Murim School Record - Chapter 59

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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 59: The Meal Laid Out Is Not for Just Anyone (1)

Ra Han clung to the three-tiered stone pagoda in the courtyard before the Dharma Hall, refusing to be dragged away by the messenger of death.
Back and forth they struggled.
In the end, the messenger of death threw a punch, and the mark of it remains on that stone pagoda even now.
The fist of the messenger of death.
Many people wondered just how skilled these two were and made their way to Talpa Temple, where they witnessed something extraordinary.
The mark left on the pagoda of eternal cold iron was none other than the Man Ma Bul Gwon, one form of the Baek Bo Shin Gwon.
A fist said to suppress all horses beneath heaven.
Thus began the connection between two fists.

‘Hyeol Po Shin Gwon.’

Yi Mo Baek smiled faintly.
It was not an unpleasant sound.
Jong Ri Gun forced his body upright with all his might.
He swayed and wavered.
Yet his body continued to undulate like waves.
“I’ve reached sixty years of age and gained the reputation of a master of hidden weaponry, only to be trampled beneath your feet now!”
“Do you remember what you said to me as I was dying at Song Lim Won?”
“What did I say?”
“When you lack strength, do not dream. For the weak to harbor dreams is recklessness.”
“Did I say such a thing?”
“I’ve forgotten everything else, but that one sentence—I cannot erase it from my mind. It was bitter enough to be weak, but then to be told not even to dream. That’s when I understood how cruel a man’s words can be. My father once told me that dreams are always fulfilled, you see.”
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
A lightning-fast fist struck Jong Ri Gun’s chest five or six times in succession.
A great cavity opened in Jong Ri Gun’s chest.
Thump!
His chest, unable to bear the weight of his head, bent forward.
His lower body collapsed after it.
Boom-boom-boom!
That was when the drum suddenly began to sound.
The drum beat was swift and loud.
Anyone who heard it knew that something grave had befallen the Mo Yong Family.
Yi Mo Baek looked down at the fallen body of Jong Ri Gun.
The drum continued to sound.

‘It may not be easy, but you will see the sunrise tomorrow morning.’

He turned slowly, steeling his resolve with grim determination.
Yi Mo Baek walked from the room at a measured pace.
He passed down the corridor and descended the stairs.
At the foot of the stairs stood some fifty armed warriors bearing weapons, and the figure at their head was familiar.
It was Jong O Bang, Master of the Yuseong Hyeol Ro Dae.
Yi Mo Baek, looking down at Jong O Bang who gazed up at him for a moment, began to descend the stairs.
As Yi Mo Baek came down one step at a time, the members of the Yuseong Hyeol Ro Dae withdrew one pace back.
Crack!
Yi Mo Baek descended the final tenth step and stood in the courtyard.
Killing intent boiled forth.
“Master Jong!”
He had come to greet Yi Mo Baek.
“Speak.”
Jong O Bang’s voice trembled as he spoke.
“Have you no wish to join forces with me? There will be far greater things to come than you can imagine.”
“Kill him!”
Jong O Bang cried out loudly, as if to cast away his fear and wavering resolve.
The men did not rush forward at once.
The man who killed Jong Ri Gun and made his escape.
There was no doubt he would have died a dog’s death if he’d rashly charged ahead on mere pride.
When his men hesitated and refused to press the attack, Jong O Bang found himself without options.
“I’m going.”
Jong O Bang hurled himself forward like a ravening beast.
Bright crimson palms.
He had unleashed the Geum Gang Hyeol Byeok Sip Pal Su.
The Geum Gang Hyeol Byeok Sip Pal Su was the Supreme Family Technique of the Mo Yong Family, and it began as a pale white in its early stages.
As one’s Martial Arts grew stronger, the color shifted—turning yellow at first, then deepening to crimson at greater heights, at which point it became truly lethal.
Bright crimson was the weakest, followed by pure red, and at the highest level it shone a dark violet.
Jong O Bang’s hands resembled a sunset burning bright crimson.
Yi Mo Baek struck out viciously, slashing at Jong O Bang’s right hand.
He had already penetrated deep into Death Ground.
In such circumstances, there was only one choice—to meet force directly.
Tricks and technique would avail nothing.
Crack!
His palm and fist collided in perfect synchronization, channeling every ounce of his strength.
Gaack!
Jong O Bang cried out, his body hurled backward through the air.
Whoosh!
As Yi Mo Baek pursued the retreating Jong O Bang, blades sang in from both sides.
Many had grown up within the Mo Yong Family, but there were no shortage of those who had made names for themselves in Joong Won before coming here.
Hsssss!
Yi Mo Baek’s form, which had been chasing Jong O Bang, scattered like mist.
The supreme Bul Young Bo had unfurled.
Slash!
Swish!
Both men’s blades descended with precision, only to catch nothing.
Yi Mo Baek’s body had already slipped away—the two men had struck only at the phantom afterimage created by the Bul Young Bo.
In combat, losing your target guarantees failure.
Thud!
A fist crashed into the left man’s jaw, sending him tumbling backward; as he fell, Yi Mo Baek snatched up the fallen blade and drove it mercilessly through the right man’s throat.
Squelch!
The sword passed through the man’s neck cleanly, skewering him like meat on a stick.
Shriek!
The remaining men retreated further back.
They had watched in horror as Yi Mo Baek inflicted internal injuries on Jong O Bang in a single exchange and sent two comrades to their graves—his Martial Arts were terrifying.
Roaaah!
This time, Yi Mo Baek charged.
When outnumbered, the first strike was decisive.
Either way, it was best to finish this quickly and get out.

Meanwhile, the sky over Du Ong hung heavy and dark.
Rain seemed imminent, and the merchants in the Marketplace had begun gathering up their goods one by one.
Time passed in this manner, and soon came the patter of drops—rain had begun to fall.
A man stood at the window of the Tae Ha Guest House, which overlooked the Marketplace.
A handsome middle-aged figure.
The muscles at his temples twitched faintly in repetition—a habitual physical response that appeared whenever this man found himself unable to resolve some matter.
The middle-aged man’s name was Gam Mu.
He was the director of the Heuksang Dae, the intelligence apparatus of the Mo Yong Family.
He had come to Du Ong himself to investigate after receiving reports from his subordinates that they had detected problems in several of Tan Hwang’s recent actions.
Whoooosh!
The rain grew heavier with each passing moment.
“Hmm.”
After spending long years in a single field, one develops a skewed perspective.
Suspicion and distrust take root, along with causeless vigilance.
In short, every person in the world begins to look suspicious—potential enemies waiting to strike.
He questioned himself repeatedly.

‘I’m sound. Completely sound.’

And yet right now, I’m harboring fierce suspicions about one person.
I haven’t found any proof, not yet, but something is there—of that much I’m certain.
Flash!
Boom!
Lightning suddenly split the sky.
Glance.
He gazed toward the distant heavens and muttered to himself.

‘I could use a drink.’

He licked his lips.
On a sodden night like this, a cup of strong Juk Yeop Cheong would make you forget the rough tides of the world, at least for a moment.
That’s why they say wine becomes our solace in times of pain, and loosens the knots in our hearts.
Though rain had fallen more than once before, Gam Mu found himself wanting a drink more keenly than ever—and he smiled bitterly at the thought.
Spin.
Gam Mu, still wearing that bitter smile, whirled around like a bolt from the heavens.
“Ah!”
He startled badly.
A man in black, drenched head to foot in the downpour.
Drip. Drip.
Water streamed from his soaked clothes and fell to the ground below.
Gam Mu’s throat tightened.
He’d swallowed hard.
Too close.
The rain had been loud enough to mask the approach—he hadn’t sensed a thing until the man was nearly upon him.
The man in black reached into his robes and unfolded a slip of paper—parchment that shed water like rain, yet held its shape.
A portrait had been drawn on the parchment.
The man glanced between the face in the portrait and Gam Mu standing before him, then folded it once more and tucked it away.
“Seems I’ve found the right place.”
The man in black was a descendant of the Nam Hae Geommun and Sa Ryul, Vice Commander of the Danhoo forces.
He’d come seeking Gam Mu on Yi Mo Baek’s orders.
He’d thought he might arrive before the Jeon Seo Gu.
But then the rain had come to this region.
In such a downpour, it would be impossible for the Jeon Seo Gu to keep flying.
Not that it couldn’t fly at all.
But its speed and altitude would be severely diminished from their usual pace.
“He said to tell you just this: will you come with us, or will you choose death?”
Gam Mu didn’t yet grasp the weight of those words.
“Wi Ji Gwang, the family head, is dead.”
With that, Sa Ryul reached into his robes again and withdrew his hand—clenching several message slips.
Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick.
He opened his palm and the slips scattered to the ground.
Gam Mu’s face hardened, and he quickly reached out.
Whoosh.
A powerful void-grasping technique.
Gam Mu unfolded one of the slips in his hand.

‘Family head dead. Family head dead.’

The characters were scrawled in desperate haste.
He unfolded another slip.

‘Family head dead. Presumed deceased.’

These characters too were written in frantic haste.
Gam Mu unfolded them all, and the messages were nearly identical.
Wi Ji Gwang was dead.

The greatest obstacle to Yi Mo Baek’s purge of the Mo Yong Family was Gam Mu, who commanded Wi Ji Gwang and the Heuksang Dae.
Since Wi Ji Gwang was already Yi Mo Baek’s responsibility, he needed only to neutralize Gam Mu.
Before he could devise a meticulous plan, an opportunity had fallen upon him unexpectedly, and in his eagerness to seize it, he’d left many details wanting.

‘Too perfect a fortune is no fortune at all.’

Yi Mo Baek had pushed forward regardless.
In any case, he’d borrowed O Chuk Ma from each relay station, but he couldn’t outpace the messenger hawks.
So he’d conceived of the Yong Bi Dan.
He’d sent word to the Yong Bi Dan to intercept and eliminate every messenger hawk entering Du Ong.
Even a hawk that flies high will descend as it approaches its destination.
Particularly, the male hawk that the Yong Bi Dan raised was savagely fierce.
Using that hawk, he’d hunted down every messenger hawk entering the Du Ong region without mercy.
Then the rain came, further disrupting their passage.
As for the message slips, he’d recovered them from the leather tubes tied to the hawks’ legs.
All of this had happened around midday today.
As he’d anticipated when departing from Geum Neung, he’d ridden through the night on O Chuk Ma, but he’d still fallen a day behind the hawks.
Had he not arranged cooperation with the Yong Bi Dan beforehand, the Heuksang Dae members and Gam Mu in this place would already be on their way back by now.
Whoosh!
Light erupted from Sa Ryul’s body.
The Cho Hyung Il Seom sword technique of Nam Hae Geommun.

‘There is no blade that surpasses the Cho Hyung Il Seom when it comes to speed.’

After learning of Sa Ryul’s origins, Yi Mo Baek had inquired about the Cho Hyung Il Seom from various people well-versed in Kangho martial arts.
Few knew anything of it.

The Nam Hae Geommun rarely ventured into Kangho, and consequently, those who had witnessed the Cho Hyung Il Seom were scarce.
One of those who answered his question spoke of how the Kangho had evaluated the sword technique of a Nam Hae Geommun descendant who had appeared a century past.

‘It was said to be so swift that once the blade leaves the house, blocking it becomes difficult.’
‘How does it compare to the Bun Gwang Kwae Geom?’

Suddenly, he’d wanted to make the comparison.
And the man had answered without hesitation.

‘If they are equally swift, then the one with superior Internal Energy will gain the advantage.’

It was a fair answer.
Even with identical speed and equal destructive force, the potency would differ depending on whether one’s Internal Energy was higher or lower.
“Ugh!”
Gam Mu let out a gasp.
A diagonal slash had split his chest garment, and blood trickled down.
From Gam Mu’s expression, it seemed he’d sensed his opponent possessed a swift blade and had prepared himself to some degree.
But the extreme speed, far beyond his expectation, had prevented him from evading properly.
Shwip!
Sa Ryul’s blade moved again.
Gam Mu extended his sleeve guard to swat the sword away.
Whoosh!
The Sword Aura that had been boring in dissolved like mist.
Shwip-shwip-shwip!
Then three more strands of Sword Aura came piercing through.
For one who wielded a swift blade, direct frontal collision offered no advantage.
Of course, it wasn’t entirely impossible, but one preferred to avoid it when one could.
If the opponent’s superior Internal Energy inflicted internal injury, the blade’s potency would plummet precipitously.
Sa Ryul quickly released his Sword Aura and unleashed three fresh strikes in rapid succession.
Thump-thump!
Thud!
The sound was different.
Both sword auras shattered under Gam Mu’s tension.

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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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