Murim Login - Chapter 647

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 647
The banquet was held in a vast Training Ground within the Inner Palace.
The venue, capable of accommodating a thousand warriors, overflowed with delicacies and was crowded with tribal leaders and their entourages.
And at the highest seat of the Training Ground, one figure awaited me.
“You’ve arrived.”
Beast King Miao Wang, seated upon a throne adorned with tiger pelts, spotted me and gestured.
“Sit. I’ve had a place prepared for you.”
The seat assigned to me was directly beside Beast King Miao Wang, on his left.
For an outsider, it was an extraordinary honor, but considering my status and the accomplishments I’d demonstrated the previous night, it was hardly unusual.
Of course, that didn’t mean all the members of Fire Dragon Pavilion received the same treatment as I did.
“I’ve arranged seats for your subordinates as well. Feel free to eat, drink, and enjoy….”
“Tae-san! Meat!”
Whoosh! Crunch crunch!
At the sight of Tae-san suddenly sweeping up the meat from the table, Beast King Miao Wang turned to me with a bewildered expression.
“…What exactly is this fellow?”
“…Just a madman, really. Don’t pay him too much mind.”
At my gesture, Sa Ma-pyo—Tae-san’s keeper, so to speak—sighed deeply and dragged the man away, while Nam Ho, who had been watching for an opportunity like an assassin, grabbed a nearby wine bottle and smashed it over Tae-san’s head.
Crash!
‘Water techniques of that caliber without water…?’
He must have put considerable force behind that swing.
Yet Tae-san caught the spray of wine erupting from above his head and drank it cheerfully.
“Nam Ho! Thank you! Tae-san was just getting thirsty!”
“Just die. Please, just die…!”
Beast King Miao Wang, watching the scene unfold, regarded me with a weary gaze.
“Hmm. Your subordinates seem to get along quite well.”
“They do. So well that if one of them died, the other might not even notice.”
“Is that why you didn’t send them?”
I hesitated for a moment before responding.
“You’ve heard already? News travels fast.”
“I don’t involve myself in everything, but I hear of all things. That is the position of the Palace Master of the Southern Beast Palace.”
True enough—with outsiders mixed into the scout units, it wouldn’t be strange for reports to have already reached the tribal leaders.
I found myself thinking of the three people who should be heading northeast by now.
‘I hope they’ll be all right.’
After careful deliberation, I had selected exactly three people.
Ju Hwa-ran. Song Il-seom. And Hyuk Moo-jin.
Regardless of my concerns, Ju Hwa-ran possessed superior martial prowess and experience compared to her peers of the same generation, Song Il-seom needed no explanation, and the final member, Hyuk Moo-jin….
‘Whatever else, his survival instinct is cockroach-level.’
Despite appearances, Hyuk Moo-jin had been with me since Shanxi Province, navigating countless brushes with death across numerous battlefields.
His talent for survival was so remarkable that even Jeok Cheon-gang had once remarked:
‘How has someone so weak and fearful managed to survive this long?’
So I answered like this.
‘I survived because I was weak and fearful.’
It was true that Hyuk Moo-jin’s martial prowess fell short compared to others. Nor was it wrong to say he was fearful.
But that could also be interpreted as meaning he was cautious.
‘I ghosted away from the most dangerous places, and when I couldn’t escape, I fought with all my might.’
So I had no choice but to return alive each time. It wouldn’t be strange if they changed my epithet to the Roach Hyuk.
“They will manage well. No matter what happens.”
I muttered with personal hope and suddenly gazed over the shoulder of Beast King Miao Wang.
“By the way, quite a few seats are empty. Even though the banquet has already begun.”
“They will arrive soon enough, not late.”
Though he spoke those words, Beast King Miao Wang’s eyes were heavy and sunken. Especially when he looked at the empty seat directly to his right.
‘Baek Sang.’
The tribal leaders who had departed the Great Hall with him were already seated, but Baek Sang, Yo-hee, and Hyuk-ung had not yet returned.
Beast King Miao Wang, gazing intently at their empty seats, silently tilted his wine bottle.
Glug glug.
The sun had long since descended toward Seosan.
Yet the panorama of Southern Beast Palace shone brightly even in the darkness. It was because of the festivals happening everywhere.
The Tribal Council, held only once a year, was also a gathering of harmony, and countless tribespeople pouring into the streets laughed and reveled with bright faces.
Or rather, they probably were. Though not immediately visible, the cheers and firework sounds drifting from the Outer Palace were enough to imagine it fully.
Whoosh, boom!
Waaaaaah!
Just from the sounds, it seemed like at least a samba festival.
I asked Beast King Miao Wang with a lukewarm expression.
“Um, is this… really okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“They all seem to have amnesia. Just a day ago, everyone should know what happened at Ai-nao Mountain.”
Beast King Miao Wang answered with an unbothered expression.
“They know. That’s precisely why they hold such a grand festival.”
“That?”
“Yes. They were all valiant warriors, and they died fighting for the Southern Wilderness. So we believe each has returned to the bosom of whatever god each tribe trusts in. Thinking that though they died in this life, they were reborn as divine warriors.”
“….”
I’ve heard this story somewhere before.
Suddenly, I remembered the Middle Eastern terrorist organization I’d crushed before logging in.
‘It’s not like some Crusade or ancient Vikings.’
While all manner of superstitions flourished in the Central Plains, the Southern Wilderness clearly had numerous indigenous faiths, creating a distinct difference.
Of course, as someone born and raised in the 21st century, I couldn’t quite understand it.
“Does Yalü the Great Hero think the same way?”
At my question, Beast King Miao Wang, who had been about to raise his wine cup, chuckled.
“Amusing.”
“What is?”
“And why shouldn’t I laugh? An old Miao clansman born and raised in the Southern Wilderness, daring to pose such a question to the Beast King Miao Wang himself.”
“Ah.”
“But the reason I laughed was different. It reminded me of someone else who asked me the very same question, a very long time ago.”
I could sense where this was heading. My eyes narrowed with understanding as I opened my mouth.
“You mean Old Master Noya? Or rather, Master?”
“Jeok Cheon-gang? No. He showed no interest in whether indigenous deities existed or not. Though he did once ask me to call on him if the Demon Cult ever set fire to the Southern Wilderness. He said he’d be happy to help, at least once.”
“….”
That heavy-bottomed old man had even promised to undertake a massacre on assignment. It seemed the resentment from Jiuhua Mountain ran bone-deep.
I reflexively nodded and asked in return.
“Then who asked you such a question?”
And in the next moment, Beast King Miao Wang’s answer came—simple and straightforward, yet laden with mystery.
“A god.”
“Pardon? What?”
Bewildered by this incomprehensible answer, Beast King Miao Wang caressed his full cup and continued.
“Mu-shin. A being whose name, age, and even face remain unknown to the world. One born human who transcended into something greater—a divine being. That person asked me: Do you truly believe your god exists?”
“…!”
“So I answered: Truthfully, I’m not certain. But it seems I’m facing one now.”
A crescent moon rippled in the cup. Beast King Miao Wang drained the wine and the moonlight in one gulp, then laughed aloud.
“A foolish answer, but there was no other choice. That day, Mu-shin alone felled five Demon Masters who had reached the pinnacle of cultivation, along with five hundred members of the Blood Ghost Squad. That was my first meeting with that white-bearded figure who moved like an immortal, and at our second encounter—which became our last—he appeared as a young boy.”
“…”
“Fifty years have passed, yet the memory of that day remains vivid.”
I sat with my mouth agape, rendered speechless.
The Blood Ghost Squad. A name I’d heard before. It had appeared countless times whenever Jeok Cheon-gang regaled me with old stories.
The Blood Ghost Squad, the Demon Cult’s elite strike force that swept through the Central Plains at the vanguard of a hundred thousand demon soldiers, was said to consist entirely of masters at the pinnacle of cultivation.
‘Five hundred masters at the peak. And on top of that, five Demon Masters who had transcended to the ultimate realm.’
Yet this man had annihilated such overwhelming force single-handedly.
Had it not been for those two characters—Mu-shin—preceding his account, I would have dismissed it as mere fantasy, no matter who spoke it.
‘…Just how far does he reach?’
Jeok Cheon-gang. Moon-kyung. Mae Jong-hak. And countless others.
I had listened until my ears bled to stories of Mu-shin from those whom even this ancient history of the Martial World would not hesitate to call giants.
Yet I still don’t understand. What realm of mastery has he truly attained? Or is he even human at all?
And why did such a great and magnificent being suddenly vanish without a trace, and where is he now, what is he doing in this very moment?
Thoughts cascaded endlessly, and suddenly, a single name surfaced in my mind.
‘…Wait.’
In that instant, my fingers, which had been tapping the table in rhythm with my thoughts, froze completely.
My eyes, reflexively widening, turned not toward the banquet hall spread before me, nor toward the Martial World.
Instead, they fixed upon the humid wind blowing from afar, the air itself, and beyond that inexplicable realm—another world and the one person who dwelt there.
‘Cheon Tae-min.’
The savior who rescued humanity from Demon King Asmodeus. An immortal legend, and to his followers, a living god.
Yet a being who one day severed himself from the world and fell into deep slumber.
The reason Cheon Tae-min came to mind in that instant was unmistakable.
‘They resemble each other. Mu-shin and him.’
It could have been a simple misunderstanding, but the commonalities between the two were far too numerous to dismiss as trivial.
Their exploits during the Righteous Demon Tournament and the Great Upheaval, and the path they walked immediately after.
‘Could it be? No. No, that would be impossible.’
But my thoughts could proceed no further. The musicians had ceased their merry performance, and the dancers had stilled their movements—all attention now converged upon a single figure ascending the stairs.
“Welcome, brother.”
In response to the warm greeting from Beast King Miao Wang, my sworn brother, Baek Sang appeared—flanked on either side by the great clan leaders as though he were the palace master himself.
“I apologize for my tardiness, Palace Master.”
Awakening from my reverie, I finally could meet it.
His glacial gaze—cold enough to freeze all directions.
* * *
– The banquet has commenced.
– Security in the Outer Palace has been reinforced beyond usual measures.
– Two hundred elite warriors from the Inner Palace are currently moving through the North Gate.
As the successive whispered reports of subordinates pierced the darkness, a figure shrouded in shadow rose from his seat.
– Final report. The target?
– The Blood Monk of Gwiju. The targets are moving for reconnaissance and contingency combat purposes, and under Jin Tae-kyung’s orders, they include Ju Hwa-ran, the young lord of Yongbong Escort Agency, the wedding guest Song Il-seom, and Hyuk Moo-jin of the Taewon Jin Family.
It would have been remarkable for anyone to know of Song Il-seom’s past, known only to the rarest few—but not for the shadow and his subordinates.
“Ha.”
The shadow’s form pivoted smoothly as a low chuckle escaped his lips.
Crack. As fingers collided sharply in the darkness, a single spark ignited, blazing through the gloom.
Whoosh.
Dark, ominous crimson flames. Watching them flicker and dance, the Nantian Demon Empress smiled wickedly.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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