Murim Login - Chapter 700

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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 700
Me, Su-ho-ryung. And the Nantian Demon Empress.
Less than an hour had elapsed since the battle began, but the flow thus far was, at best, an even match.
At least for now.
Crash!
“…Damn it all.”
A curse that escaped my lips unbidden.
Not merely because the Inner Palace crumbled. Even if it was the symbol and pride of the Southern Beast Palace, it remained nothing more than a structure.
The true horror lay in the fact that as the most colossal edifice in the Southern Beast Palace collapsed like a sandcastle, the darkness pouring from the ‘rift’ grew far more oppressive.
Roar!
Demonic energy. In another tongue, demonic force.
That pure yet perilous aura swept forth like a tidal wave.
It blanketed the massive dust cloud and crossed the expanse, reaching the creatures still trapped within the Inner Palace.
“Kugh, hack!”
– Screeeech!
The anguished cries of humans and beasts alike.
Eyes that had begun to regain focus were now stained white with the sclera. I watched with crystalline clarity as their convulsing bodies snapped with a sickening sound of tearing flesh.
Crack. Crunch.
The word “death” flickered across my mind—but no.
What awaited them was torment far worse than death, and the transformation that would soon befall them would make even agony seem merciful.
‘Rather, I should call it a Corruption, not merely a transformation.’
I could not help but know.
I had witnessed it once before, and experienced it firsthand.
The rift’s demonic force was potent enough to corrupt even a five-hundred-year-old Imoogi.
Though the Water Dragon had borne the force alone—a crucial distinction—even so, neither common beasts nor even seasoned Martial World practitioners could shake off the demonic influence through their own strength.
Not unless someone intervened to aid them.
‘And it seems that someone is me.’
Damn it.
My hesitation at leaving Su-ho-ryung alone, even for a moment, lasted only an instant.
Thousands of humans and beasts still remained trapped within the Inner Palace.
Their safety mattered, yes—but if they were completely consumed by the demonic force and reborn as corrupted abominations, the infernal realm the Nantian Demon Empress had envisioned would be complete.
Above all else, a horrific massacre would commence—a slaughter where all would kill and be killed.
And in that infinitesimal span of time, as these thoughts crystallized, I was not alone in perceiving them.
– Go! Now!
It was nearly simultaneous.
A thread of intent resonated within my mind at the exact moment my feet drove into the earth.
Boom!
Compression. Then detonation.
The landscape inverted as a violent wind engulfed my entire being.
Like a projectile carving a small crater, my form vaulted across more than twenty zhang of space in a single bound. Behind my feet as they touched the ground with grace, wisps of materialized qi-flame danced and flickered.
Flame Fire Path.
Kwaaaaa!
Within the slowed world, a cyan-white radiance erupted like an explosion.
The figure of Su-ho-ryung charging toward the Nantian Demon Empress with a roar that shook the heavens, and the figure of Mu Ya-ho desperately fleeing the Outer Palace at the rear of the survivors—all vanished.
Whiiiish.
A blood-scented wind swept across my entire body. Beneath my feet treading upon empty air, I could see countless beasts and humans writhing, engulfed in darkness.
And….
‘I feel it.’
After ascending to the pinnacle of mastery, I came to understand through repeated enlightenment.
That all things in this world possess a flow. That the inability to perceive something with the naked eye does not mean one cannot sense it.
A flow exists even in formless wind, in stone so hard steel rebounds from it, in still water—or perhaps, minute fissures.
That is precisely what ‘grain’ is.
‘Now!’
Shiiing!
With absolute certainty, I thrust my spear downward like lightning.
Three cycles of blazing flame wrapped around the transparent spear blade, devouring the darkness and cleaving through space.
To sever the grain existing within the suffocating darkness that enveloped thousands of lives. To sever in one breath the invisible, minute flow.
And the next instant.
Screeeech, Kwang!
With a thunderous sound as if the heavens themselves were split asunder, flames cascading along the white-hot spear blade erupted in magnificent splendor.
“…!”
My eyes widened involuntarily.
Though the aftermath of consecutive battles left fatigue and injury in their wake, this strike had expended nearly all my strength in the present moment.
I had been confident enough to scatter at least some of the demonic energy, if not all of it.
‘But… they blocked that?’
It was but a brief instant, yet I saw it clearly.
The vital energy that flew like a beam of light from within the darkness. Simultaneously, a force too dark and ominous to be called merely a beam of light.
Thud.
Landing gently upon the ground, I peered into the suffocating darkness.
No—at the blurred silhouette slowly emerging from the ruins of the Inner Palace, shrouded in billowing dust clouds.
“…Masked Figure? What are you doing, you bastard?”
And the answer that returned to my question was a single flash of light that glimmered beyond a dozen zhang.
Shuwaaaaak! Screech!
A matter of mere inches.
Twisting my head like lightning, I glanced behind me. The Pavilion, which had miraculously maintained its form until now, was cleaved cleanly in half and crumbling.
Crack, crumble!
Watching the Pavilion collapse half a beat too late, I murmured inwardly.
‘Fast.’
Along with that, I sensed an unrefined, savage power. This could be called crude, but in another sense, it also meant destructive.
If I failed to evade even once, not even a corpse would remain to be found.
But that applied equally to me.
Squelch. Screeeech!
There was no need to summon anything from my inventory.
Countless weapons lay scattered across the ground. I seized one iron spear planted in the earth, gripped it in reverse hand position, and hurled it with all my strength.
Crash!
The spear bounced off harmlessly, blocked by inner energy. But this was precisely what I’d anticipated.
The moment I launched the spear, I’d already propelled my body forward, unleashing White Flame toward the enigmatic Masked Figure.
Whoosh, boom!
Compressed air erupted from the spear’s tip. The Masked Figure twisted his body by mere inches to evade the strike, then seized the shaft and took a wide step forward.
Simultaneously, a dark sword gleam flickered from his fingertips.
Scrape!
A faint sting.
I’d dodged, yet hadn’t. Blood welled from my nose where the wind from his ferocious blade strike had grazed me.
But a few drops of blood were a pittance. With this blood as payment, I would extract something far greater.
‘If you thought I was like other Murim warriors, you’re gravely mistaken.’
Martial artists revere their weapons as they would their own lives.
Most have mastered martial techniques involving weapons, knowing that crude fist techniques alone cannot ensure survival in brutal life-or-death battles.
But I am different.
Superhuman physical capabilities transcending human limits, combined with the fist techniques of the Yeolhwa Sect—worthy of being called divine arts.
And my inventory, with its nearly infinite capacity, harbors countless weapons in slumber.
Crack!
Even the most divine weapons are useless if they cannot reach the enemy.
Releasing the spear shaft, I seized the wrist of the Masked Figure wielding the sword, then extended my other hand like lightning.
With a command only I could comprehend.
‘Inventory open. Summon.’
Shwik!
Though I’d missed striking directly at his heart, the rusted dagger—now glowing crimson from the heat of friction—pierced through his protective inner energy, stronger than any armor, and burrowed into his chest.
Thud!
“…!”
The Masked Figure’s body went rigid without even a groan. But I had no intention of stopping here.
‘I must finish this decisively.’
I didn’t know the Masked Figure’s name or alias, but one thing was certain—he served under the Nantian Demon Empress.
Before his clumsy schemes could invite greater calamity, I had to sever his life here and now.
Right here. Right now.
Crunch, crack!
Still gripping his wrist, I felt bones crumble beneath my knee, driven upward like a piston.
His arm, its elbow shattered, hung limp, and the sword hilt slipped from his weakened grasp.
Slip.
With a subtle twitch of the Masked Figure’s fingers, a cutting force erupted from an invisible blind spot.
Whiiiing!
Just as everything in this world has consequence and flow, so too does the sound a weapon makes.
‘What is this?’
A sound I was certain I’d heard somewhere before.
Along with it came a flash of dissonance across my mind, but I had no time to pursue that thought further.
I was given only the briefest of moments to make a choice.
Should I trust my instincts and the Flame Dragon Armor to finish the Masked Figure completely? Or should I abandon the already grievously wounded Masked Figure and prioritize my own survival?
In that inescapable moment of binary choice, having steeled my resolve, I spun around and extended my hands simultaneously.
No—I unleashed both palms.
Toward the Masked Figure and the two streaks of light that had closed to within arm’s reach.
Boom! Crack!
The Masked Figure’s body, struck in the chest by the Flame Divine Palm, shot forward like a projectile and embedded itself in the ruins of the Inner Palace.
But….
Crash!
Catching two rabbits with one stone—had I been too greedy?
My body was driven backward by the tremendous impact, and only after retreating ten paces while carving a deep furrow did the searing pain arrive.
Drip. Patter patter.
Blood rolled down my fingers and soaked the ground. I staunched the bleeding from my left hand, where flesh and muscle hung tattered and torn, and bit my lip.
From pain? Wrong. I’d endured injuries and suffering of this magnitude countless times during my days as a Hunter.
Damaging one hand in a situation where I needed to conserve maximum strength was undoubtedly a misfortune, but it wasn’t as though I couldn’t use it at all.
The real problem wasn’t the injury or the pain, but rather the identity of the light that had caused such dissonance—the tremendous rebound force and piercing power I’d felt the moment my Flame Divine Palm struck the Masked Figure’s chest.
‘This is.’
Aside from differences in form and size, it was unmistakably a weapon I recognized.
Staring at the Twin Wheels gripped in my left hand, I slowly turned my body.
Recalling a certain old monster who had left behind a final message that he would wait in the afterlife.
“What’s your connection to the Great Snow Ghost?”
Even as I opened my mouth, I hoped no answer would come. I also wished that the tremendous rebound force I’d felt at the end was merely my own delusion.
But my ominous suspicion was already revealing itself as reality.
Crack. Whoosh.
Within the dust cloud that hadn’t yet settled, heavy iron bars and timber shifted, and a pale silhouette rose up starkly.
Immediately after, a glinting light streaked across twenty-some paces and rushed forward.
Screech, crash!
Truly ferocious momentum.
I caught the light with my hand, channeling all my power into it, and closed my mouth.
A hidden blade.
The very same hidden blade I had driven into someone’s chest with these hands just moments ago.
The short blade, covered in rust, bore blood that wasn’t mine—evidence that the attack had succeeded.
‘If that’s the case, they should have suffered a fatal wound… How is this possible?’
I knew it all too well.
Humans—especially supreme masters—don’t die as easily as one might think.
They are monsters capable of taking on a hundred enemies single-handedly, even with a hidden blade lodged in their chest.
But if the one who drove that hidden blade possessed skill comparable to him—or even surpassing his level—the situation would be entirely different.
‘This isn’t some back-alley brawl between street thugs.’
In a life-or-death confrontation between masters, the greatest danger lay not in the sharpness of the weapon itself, but in the inner force channeled through it.
Inner force that seeps through the wound, flows into the body, and tears apart the meridians.
Even the most supreme master could not escape internal injuries from such a strike.
Even the Great Snow Ghost, with his exceptional martial prowess and profound inner force, was no exception.
And yet….
‘Not only did he rise as if unaffected, but he pulled the hidden blade from his chest and threw it? With this level of inner force channeled through it, when simply suppressing internal injuries should be taxing?’
Moreover, that blade had been one of the most grievous wounds he’d sustained.
One arm was at minimum crippled. And on top of that, he’d taken a direct hit from the Flame Divine Palm at the end. Even a master of the Ten Kings’ caliber couldn’t be this unscathed.
“…Who the hell are you?”
A sense of wrongness now enveloped my entire being. And a chilling wariness.
But before the Masked Figure could answer my question, a tremendous roar shattered the air.
Kwaaaaaang!
A silver silhouette crashed down like a meteor onto the ground.
Above Su-ho-ryung’s scarred body as he gasped for breath, the Nantian Demon Empress stood with a smile etched across her face.
“My hunting dog. Trained with such meticulous care.”

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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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