Murim School Record - Chapter 12

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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 12: Departure (2)

But every time he came, the air was so foul he could barely breathe.
Though he couldn’t understand a word spoken there, the sickening stench would force him to hurry out—yet now, swept clean, it was something else entirely.
It was spotless.
Then it clicked.
Now something finally fit into place in his mind.
Seven steps, called Bullyoungbo.
They weren’t the steps needed to unfold the one-fist-one-step formula of Baekbo Shingwon.
Only by fully awakening and mastering these seven steps—this Bullyoungbo—would the true power of Baekbo Shingwon manifest itself.
“Ha! That’s it!”
Baekbo Shingwon was undoubtedly built upon Bullyoungbo as its foundation.
That’s why the footwork was so difficult.
Just seven steps, yet he couldn’t understand why they felt so awkward, why he swayed like a drunkard.
Once understanding began to dawn, everything rushed forward, clicking into place.

‘Seven Steps Reach Heaven—Hundred Fists in One Step.’

Long ago, he’d ventured a careful question to Wooshan, the keeper of the temple kitchen.
In truth, he hated speaking with anyone, but Wooshan was the only one who knew anything of Shaolin martial arts.
Eyes glistening, he’d asked.

‘Ah, Reverend—I’ve been trying to learn Baekbo Shingwon, but there’s a phrase I don’t understand.’
‘What is it?’

Wooshan’s brow furrowed instantly.
Yi Mok-baek ventured the question carefully, watching for a reaction.

‘You said “Seven Steps Reach Heaven, Hundred Fists in One Step”—what does it mean? I’m afraid my learning is rather limited.’

Wooshan’s expression shifted to shock.

‘I’ve asked the other monks, but none of them knew either.’
‘Stop wasting time and get back to work!’

He’d fled like lightning had struck, vanishing in terror.
But now—now it came back to him.

‘Seven steps and you touch the heavens; a hundred fists contained within a single step.’

He couldn’t say whether his interpretation was right or wrong.
But it had blazed across his mind with blinding clarity.

People possessed intuition—a gift of the spirit.
Before understanding or judgment could even form, instinct pierced straight through to the heart of things.
Strange how his thoughts seemed to ring with truth, how certainty flooded through him.
Swish!
Swish-swish-swish!
He didn’t walk through the darkness—he flowed through it.
No breaks, no stutters. Motion endless and unbroken.
Soft as silk.
And for a moment, he lost himself in the rhythm of his own steps.
He hadn’t yet reached heaven on seven steps, hadn’t yet packed a hundred fists into one stride—but his spirit soared.

‘Pig of the swine, Wooshan of the monks.’

Is it the good mood talking?
A tune slips unbidden from his lips.

‘Shaolin’s pride, Cheongdong Seonsa among them.’

He takes a blow from Cheongdong Seonsa and adds him to his mental list of grievances.
Slip!
His feet slide beneath him.
He’s been walking on ice.

The Martial Alliance’s travel provisions were sparse.
A few sets of spare underclothes, Gold Wound Medicine to prepare for unexpected injury, and twenty taels of silver coins distributed from the Arhat Hall—that was all.
Of course, Dang Du-chun held custody of the silver.
A smile doesn’t leave the corners of Yi Mok-baek’s mouth.
His eyes keep stealing glances at Wooshan, who had come to see them off.
His heart feels light.
He’s beyond pleased—almost gleeful—to be free of the nagging priest.
But there was more.
Over the past few days, turning things over in his mind and analyzing what he could piece together, he’s cautiously inferred one fact.
Shaolin is now in high alert over a missing Daewhanhwan.
Without clear evidence he can’t be certain, but the way things are unfolding strongly suggests that what entered his mouth that day was indeed the Daewhanhwan.
Moreover, he’s heard that the Eighteen Blessing Dharma Protectors conducting the investigation have extracted testimony from some monks about how fondly Cheongmong Seonsa regards him.
The likelihood that Cheongmong Seonsa administered the Shaolin First Energy Technique Daewhanhwan to him is very low.
He considers the possibility only because of the strength now moving within his own body.
After taking that medicine, his condition improved dramatically.
If not the Daewhanhwan, what else could explain his sudden recovery?
Yet objectively, the possibility remains slim.
“I shall take my leave.”
Dang Du-chun spoke toward Wooshan, the kitchen steward.
“Be careful out there.”
There would be no armed escort.
“With famine piled upon famine, people’s hearts have grown vicious. There’s an old saying—don’t judge an elder by appearance alone.”
Hunger breeds bandits and highwaymen everywhere.
He meant: don’t be deceived merely because someone approaches with a kind face.
“Once you reach Taeping County in Anhui Province, our men will be waiting to receive you.”
The Martial Alliance was located at Seochen Moksan.
Seochen Moksan lay roughly a hundred and twenty li northwest of Hangzhou in Zhejiang Province, and the road ran from Shaolin Temple through Luoyang and across Anhui Province.
Once you reached Taeping County at the foot of Mount Huangshan, on the border between Anhui and Zhejiang, Shaolin’s men would be there to greet you.
“Mind yourself!”
“Don’t go boasting that you killed Byeok An-mihui, or there’ll be hell to pay.”
With warnings and concerned farewells from his fellow disciples to avoid trouble wherever possible, the three men began to leave the kitchen.
“You there, Yi Mok-baek.”
An unexpected shout made them all flinch, and the smile vanished from Yi Mok-baek’s face.

‘Of course. He’d never let me leave in peace, the stubborn old mule.’

Yi Mok-baek turned around.
“Y-yes, sir?”
Yi Mok-baek lowered his stance respectfully.
A parting was no time to sour the mood with impertinence.
“Listen well to the Deputy Kitchen Steward and conduct yourself accordingly. This is the Martial Alliance, not Shaolin. Your bearing and actions will weigh upon Shaolin’s authority and honor. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I do.”
“Should even the slightest rumor reach us that something is amiss, you must be prepared for severe punishment.”
“I shall remember.”
Wooshan’s severe gaze did not ease.
“May I depart now, sir?”
“Keep your wits about you and act with purpose.”
“I beg your trust in me.”
Yi Mok-baek answered firmly and turned to go.
Dang Du-chun and Seol Yeo-chul were waiting ahead.
As Yi Mok-baek approached, the two men turned and began walking abreast beside him.

‘Ugh, this is tedious.’

Yi Mok-baek grumbled to himself and quickened his pace.

Whoosh!
Gasp!
Yi Mok-baek tilted his head back, opened his mouth wide, and drew in a breath as though he meant to inhale the sky itself.
“Ah! The moment we step outside the gate, even the air feels completely different!”
Yi Mok-baek took several deep breaths in succession as if shaking the stuffiness from his chest, raising both hands high above his head.
“It’s truly a beautiful world.”
Dang Du-chun and Seol Yeo-chul watched Yi Mok-baek and laughed with delight.
“You’re that happy about it?”
“Most of all, not seeing that pig anymore is so wonderful. Ahbrichacatipaho!”
Yi Mok-baek put force into his lower belly and let out a cry.
The wild shout echoed and rang for some time, and the three men hurried away from the temple gate with quickened steps.

A loud and raucous march it was.
All manner of chatter tumbled out of their mouths.
Most of that chatter came from Yi Mok-baek’s mouth.
It was an intentional stream of talk meant to keep boredom at bay during the long journey ahead.
Meanwhile, Seol Yeo-chul stopped walking.
Whoosh!
Then he began extending and retracting his right fist left and right in rapid succession.
“Hyah!”
Yi Mok-baek, watching Seol Yeo-chul suddenly shout, asked him a question.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing much. Hup!”
Shush-shush-shush!
He raised his voice toward the punching Seol Yeo-chul.
“I’m asking what you’re doing.”
“I’ve been training in martial arts lately.”
Yi Mok-baek’s eyes widened.
Seol Yeo-chul’s entry into Shaolin Temple had been similar to Yi Mok-baek’s.
Only instead of his father like Yi Mok-baek, it was a devoted friend of his mother who made the introduction.
“You remember the incident at Mount Qingyang. Watching you beat Byeok An-mihui to death, I was honestly shocked. I thought to myself—I should learn martial arts too. Learn them and help others, I thought.”
“I didn’t capture Byeok An-mihui through martial prowess. It was cunning.”
“Whether it was cunning or martial skill hardly matters. The fact is that you killed Byeok An-mihui. Your name has already spread through the Four Seas Eight Directions.”
“The Four Seas Eight Directions.”
Yi Mok-baek grinned.
“Hehehehe—the Four Seas, Eight Directions… now that’s something.”
Yi Mok-baek laughed loudly.
“I’ll catch myself a woman in a year.”
Seol Yeo-chul shouted and swung his fists even more vigorously.

The three men rested for about a quarter hour, drinking tea at a teahouse in Deungbong County at the foot of the mountain, before setting out on the road in earnest.
They had no need to worry about food and lodging.
While their provisions weren’t abundant, they received enough support that they wouldn’t face any great hardship.
But by the third day after their departure from Shaolin Temple, their bodies began to grow heavy.
Seol Yeo-chul was the first to suffer.
Blisters formed on the soles of his feet, and his right knee swelled.
“We should rest!”
They were meant to keep to the established schedule.
But with Seol Yeo-chul groaning and struggling, they could not simply push forward as planned.
“I’m sorry, Deputy Abbot.”
Seol Yeo-chul looked toward Dang Du-chun and his spirits fell.
“It’s all right. You didn’t do it on purpose.”
They still had at least ten more days of walking ahead of them.
Even under normal circumstances, it would take ten days.
Snap!
Dang Du-chun withdrew a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and unfolded it.
It was a map.
“We’re near Seongnang right now, so we’re around here.”
His finger traced along the road, then stopped at a particular spot.
“We’ll stay the night in Yongseong.”
Yongseong was a county situated near the border between Henan and Anhui Province.
Their original plan had been to push another thirty leagues to Baekpa, but given Seol Yeo-chul’s poor condition, they decided to rest a little earlier.
“I’m truly sorry. Yi Mok-baek, I have no words.”
Yi Mok-baek laughed.
“Stop it. I mean it.”
When you hear apologies too often, they start to sound hollow.
Of course, from Seol Yeo-chul’s perspective, it was reasonable to feel sorry for delaying their progress.
But when apologies come too frequently, the mood grows heavy, and it hardens everyone’s hearts.
“Understood. I won’t do it anymore!”
“I know your heart means well, but keep it measured. Even apologies lose their meaning when overdone.”
Seol Yeo-chul laughed awkwardly.
“Now that you mention it, you’re right.”
Dang Du-chun grinned.

Yongseong.
It was a bustling waypoint.
A gateway into Anhui Province with main roads running through it, the town saw constant traffic.
In particular, salt produced in the salt works of Changnam in Zhejiang Province passed through here on its way inland through Anhui, drawing many merchants.
“Welcome!”
As the three entered, the innkeeper greeted them with a broad smile.
“This corner table here is cozy and warm—you’ll find it quite pleasant.”
Noon had passed, and it was still early for the evening meal.
For that reason, the inn wasn’t crowded, and the group settled into the secluded spot the innkeeper had shown them.
“What can I bring for you three?”
“Bring us dumplings. Three portions.”
As Dang Du-chun spoke, the innkeeper’s beaming expression clouded over instantly.
Dumplings were the cheapest dish at this establishment, the Yongmun Inn.
More than that, one portion meant only two dumplings.
Despite their solid frames—especially when looking at Dang Du-chun—the innkeeper’s eyes narrowed in clear displeasure.

‘A man that size looks like he could put away a whole pork leg without batting an eye, and the other two are no lightweights either—yet all they order is three portions of dumplings.’

At a glance, he saw through them: beggars in all but name.
“Just wait!”
His personal creed stirred to life—lavish treatment for the wealthy, bare minimum for the poor.
“How’s your leg?” Dang Du-chun asked.
Dang Du-chun inquired.
Seol Yeo-chul frowned slightly, wrinkling his brow.
“I’m fine.”
If their purse were fuller, he would have sought out a physician nearby to examine it, but their funds were far too tight.
No matter how he turned their remaining silver coins over in his mind, there simply wasn’t spare money to pay a physician.
Thud!
Something clattered onto the table.
The sound was so loud it was nearly a crash, and all three looked up in alarm.
The innkeeper had hurled the plate of dumplings onto the table and was walking away.
“Rude bastard!” Dang Du-chun muttered.

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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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