Murim School Record - Chapter 17

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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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Episode 17: The Making of a Man (1)

Bun-gwang Kwae-geom’s inner transmission continued with difficulty.

‘Moreover, what Cheonmong Seonsa, Shaolin’s greatest master, fed to you as you were dying—whether it truly was a Great Returning Pill or not, I cannot say—but judging by the energy in your body, the Buddhist force is formidable.’

Then, abruptly, Bun-gwang Kwae-geom laughed.

‘Heheheh! Fate is a terrifying thing indeed. When you spoke of Clear Stone Jade and Great Returning Pill, those two energies are extreme yang—they can never merge. Only an energy cold enough to border on extreme yin, an absolute extreme, can bind the two into one.’
‘What could that be?’
‘Only the foundation built through the Bun-gwang Cold Flame Heart Method can merge those two energies.’
‘Then?’
‘To meet an old master who possesses the only martial philosophy capable of uniting two energies—this is what life is.’
‘Mm!’
‘Do not concern yourself. Simply use the Suction Technique to draw in my True Qi. The rest will unfold naturally.’

It was gentle.
The Bun-gwang Cold Flame Heart Method’s energy swiftly cooled the heat of the Great Returning Pill and Clear Stone Jade.
And so the two energies naturally merged into the infused Bun-gwang Cold Flame Heart Method.
To transform the three combined energies into a clearer, unified True Qi, he began a Complete Circulation.
The three energies departing from the Dantian passed through the Perineum Point and reached the Baihui Point at the crown of the head in an instant.
The True Qi lingering briefly at the Baihui Point descended through the solar plexus and Dantian, then entered the lower Dantian—the Yongquan Point at the soles of the feet.
Crack!
Something burst open.
Depending on the listener, the sound might have seemed different, but one thing was certain: a small but sharp explosion erupted from Yi Mo-baek’s body.
“Urrgh!”
He coughed up a mouthful of blood, his cry short and sharp.
And when Yi Mo-baek opened his eyes, he remained motionless for a moment.
His body had changed.
The Life-Death Gate had opened.
“Yi Mo-baek.”
He turned quickly to face him.
Bun-gwang Kwae-geom stared with lifeless eyes.
Death clung to him.
“Watch carefully.”
Bun-gwang Kwae-geom slowly raised his right hand and, pointing it at empty air, performed several movements.
Swish—
Seeing his whole body tremble, it appeared tremendously difficult.
“Can…can you do it?”
At the question of whether he could recreate what was being demonstrated, Yi Mo-baek raised his right hand without hesitation.
Whoosh!
Whishhh!
Swift.
As if it were nothing difficult, he matched every movement in an instant.
Then, toward Bun-gwang Kwae-geom who showed little reaction, he spoke.
“Shall I show you once more?”
Slash!
Swishhhhh!
“Was any part wrong?”
“Heheheh!”
Bun-gwang Kwae-geom suddenly laughed.
“Truly exceptional. I have met an extraordinary man. A Life-Death Person. People call me Heaven’s Greatest Assassin, yet I remain bound within the Eight Stars.”
He spoke a few more words about the Life-Death Technique, which could be wielded both with sword and bare hand, then quietly rolled to his side and went still.
Yi Mo-baek quickly dug a pit and buried Bun-gwang Kwae-geom’s body.
If discovered, the corpse would surely never be left undisturbed.
He carefully covered it with grass and branches, shouldered his carrier, and departed from the scene.

Silence.
The Murim Alliance moved as it always had since the first day of their arrival—unchanged, unremarkable.
“Ah, that’s strange. A dying man wouldn’t lie.”
As if nothing had happened, the Murim Alliance remained too peaceful.
Crack!
He spat into his palm to grip the axe handle, then swung it down against the logs.
“That can’t be right.”
Thwack!
A thick trunk split cleanly in two.
“What can’t be right?”
Seol Yeo-chul approached.
He leaned on a walking staff, though his knees looked much improved.
“Take it easy. There’s no nagging old master around anymore—so what just now made you say something can’t be right?”
“The Kitchen Hall’s fine, isn’t it?”
“Of course it’s fine. Why should something be wrong?”
“It shouldn’t be like this. Come closer, brother.”
Yi Mo-baek told Seol Yeo-chul, who had drawn near, that the Murim Alliance Lord Mo Yong-cheon had been attacked by an assassin.
“Gasp!”
Seol Yeo-chul’s whole body trembled.
“Y-you’re serious? Where did you hear this?”
He told him he had met Moo-geuk Sa-gun while cutting wood on the mountainside.
“His eyes were bloodshot, completely wild. The black robes he wore had turned into filthy rags.”
“R-rags…”
Seol Yeo-chul had heard of Moo-geuk Sa-gun’s reputation.
The Four Guardian Deities protecting the Lord.
“They only move when the Lord’s safety is threatened.”
“Right.”
But he did not mention that he had met Bun-gwang Kwae-geom and heard it directly from him.
It seemed better to keep his mouth shut about something he didn’t fully understand yet.
“Is that story true?”
The two men started.
Na-ong Seonsa had approached.
“Tell me again. Quickly.”
This was not the gentle gaze of Na-ong Seonsa.
Yi Mo-baek realized his mistake, but it was too late.
He told Na-ong Seonsa that two of Moo-geuk Sa-gun were chasing someone with bloodshot eyes.
Na-ong Seonsa’s expression grew grave.
Moo-geuk Sa-gun moves only at the Lord’s command.
This spoke of a threat to the Lord’s person.
Yet if the Murim Alliance’s atmosphere remained peaceful, it meant one thing.
That word of Mo Yong-cheon’s attack must not spread.
Clearly, everything was being carefully concealed and blocked at Cheonggung, the Lord’s residence.
“I asked whether anyone had seen an elderly man in black robes. Then a whistling sound came, and he vanished in that direction.”
He fumbled somewhat in his telling, but conveyed all that mattered.
If word were to escape from his own mouth that the Murim Alliance Lord had been attacked and his life hung by a thread, the realm would surely be swept into a maelstrom.
The water had already been spilled.
Better then to speak it with proper weight than to let it dribble out.
And his listener was Na-ong Seonsa—a man of high trustworthiness.
Yi Mo-baek smiled wryly.
A peculiar smile.
“You’re certain of it?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then keep your mouths shut for now.”
Na-ong Seonsa’s form blurred and vanished.
Hee-hee-hee!
Seol Yeo-chul laughed as he watched Na-ong Seonsa disappear.
“Why are you laughing?”
“You know what’s the most entertaining sight in the world, Mo-baek?”
“I know.”
“Know what? Tell me then.”
“That’s not a real fight. A real fight is one where the other man’s nose bleeds or doesn’t, where his teeth shatter or stay intact, and it’s all nothing to me—that’s what makes it thrilling. The best kind of fight is a street brawl, you understand? Martial artists’ duels are tedious.”
Yi Mo-baek laughed aloud at the mere thought, his voice carrying genuine delight.
“Grappling, rolling on the ground, pinning a man down and hammering his belly. Biting with your teeth, grabbing his hair and shaking it until chunks come out. Cursing all the while—’You bastard, I’ll kill you, today’s the day I’ll end you.’ That’s the real thing.”
“Ah… I see you do understand.”
“Imagine what a spectacle it would be. Once word spreads that the Murim Alliance Leader has taken to his bed after an assassin’s attack?”
Seol Yeo-chul flinched.
“The Sma-oe Outlaws will certainly seize this chance, and the Righteous Martial Sects will wage fierce battles among themselves for dominance. That much is obvious.”
Seol Yeo-chul’s eyes widened.
Listening to Yi Mo-baek’s reasoning, Seol Yeo-chul realized that circumstances could spiral into full-scale war.
If that happened, it wouldn’t be mere entertainment.
It could become a war that shakes the heavens.
“Mo… Mo-baek, are you perhaps…?”
Yi Mo-baek’s eyes narrowed as he smiled.
“What can I do? The game’s already rigged—might as well overturn the whole board and be done with it. That would feel satisfying.”
Yi Mo-baek’s grin broadened.
“This is going to explode.”
“Aren’t you afraid?”
“Of course I’m afraid—anyone who says they aren’t is lying. But there’s no turning back now, so we might as well see where this leads. If death comes, let it come quick. Those meant to live will live no matter what foolishness they commit.”
“Hearing you say that somehow eases my own heart.”
“What is life anyway? I just want to see a real fight for once.”
Seol Yeo-chul swallowed hard.
The fight he had mentioned was an alley brawl—the sort of thing that happened in back streets.
Two drunk men colliding on a market street, grabbing each other’s collars and trading blows.
But Yi Mo-baek was talking about something else entirely.
A different scale altogether.
Yi Mo-baek picked up an axe and began splitting firewood.
Crack!
Crack-crack!
Seol Yeo-chul remained rooted to the spot, watching Yi Mo-baek split the logs.

Rain began to fall.
At the front of the Shaolin Kitchen Hall, a cart drawn by a single horse stood waiting.
They had to travel down the mountain to Hangzhou to buy supplies.
Shortly after, three figures emerged from the Kitchen Hall.
All three wore straw raincoats, though Dang Du-chun and Seol Yeo-chul removed theirs and climbed into the back of the cart.
Yi Mo-baek, however, kept his raincoat on and placed a broad-brimmed hat over it as he took the driver’s seat.
“Mo-baek! I’m sorry to trouble you.”
Dang Du-chun’s apologetic voice came from inside the cart.
“Trouble? I’ve handled horses before—it’s safer with me holding the reins.”
Yi Mo-baek snapped the reins and set off.
The cart slowly departed from the Kitchen Hall.

*

Ma O, guardian of Cheonggung and one of the Eighteen Protectors, moved swiftly through the corridor.
He was forty-five years old this year.
He was one of Leader Mo Yong-cheon’s most trusted confidants, along with Moo-geuk Sa-gun.
He turned right down the carpeted hallway and stopped before a door draped with a crimson curtain.
“It is Ma O.”
“What brings you?”
A sharp voice emerged from beyond the curtain.
“Cheongak Seonsa, the Master of Shaolin, wishes to see the Leader.”
“What?”
Surprise rippled through the room.
“Send him in.”
Whoosh!
Ma O drew back the curtain with his left hand and stepped inside.
Two elderly men sat across from each other at a round table on the carpeted floor.
Both wore black robes, and a tyrannical air emanated thickly from their entire bodies.
The Moo-geuk Sa-gun.
Originally there were four, but two died not long ago—the remaining ones were Pung-gun and U-gun.
Pung-gun was the eldest and leader of the Moo-geuk Sa-gun.
Behind the round table where they sat hung a curtain of Blood Spider Silk, thick and deep, and beyond it dwelt the giant who moved this age.
Blood Spider Silk was thread spun by spiders called blood spiders.
The difference from ordinary spider silk was that it was woven with care and precision, as if fashioned from damask itself.
That was why it was called silk.
It was supple and tough, impervious to most weapons—and the hazy silhouette behind it was surely Mo Yong-cheon, the Murim Alliance Lord whom he had sworn his life to protect.
“Tell me—why has the Shaolin Abbot suddenly come to Cheonggung?”
Cheongak Seonsa had appeared without warning.
Pung-gun and U-gun turned their stern gaze toward Ma O.
“He arrived with the Four Diamond Kings of Shaolin.”
“The Four Diamond Kings, even.”
Mention Shaolin, and one speaks of the Four Diamond Kings.
It was accepted wisdom throughout the Gangho that they were second to none in martial prowess—certainly not inferior to the Shaolin Abbot himself.
That he had come accompanied by the Four Diamond Kings, who trained in the depths of the Arhat Cave and devoted themselves solely to martial cultivation, meant he must have learned of some change in Mo Yong-cheon’s circumstances.
But how had he discovered it?
Yet there was no evidence.
So he had come to verify it himself.
Bringing the Four Diamond Kings was a silent pressure—his will made manifest: meet with Mo Yong-cheon, and let no pretense or obstacle stand in his way.
“I shall go out to meet him.”
U-gun rose to his feet.
“Brother, there must be no conflict, whatever happens.”
“Of course. Let us go.”
U-gun led Ma O from the chamber.
Left alone, Pung-gun stared at the Blood Spider Silk curtain.
No eye technique, no divining art could penetrate it.
Pung-gun gazed at the curtain for a long time, then exhaled slowly.

‘How did he find out?’

They said there were no secrets, but this was far too swift.
‘We must escape this peril.’
Pung-gun clenched his teeth.

The doors of the Guest Hall opened.
The Guest Hall was where those who came to meet Mo Yong-cheon at Cheonggung waited while taking tea.
The position of Alliance Lord was one of receiving visitors.

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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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