Murim School Record - Chapter 61

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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 61: The Table That’s Set Is Not for Everyone to Eat From (3)

‘Even the Ga Ju Ui Ji Gwang is dead.’

So who would become Ga Ju, even if they won the fight?
A leader doesn’t become one just because they wish it.
Someone must champion them, and others must follow.
It wasn’t just one person thinking this.
As everyone shared the same thought, the air in the hall began to flow strangely.
It was then. A man appeared.
He was none other than Un Hak San, the Sub-Commander of Heuk Sang Dae.
Nearly a hundred warriors of Heuk Sang Dae followed behind Un Hak San.
“Un Hak San, Sub-Commander of Heuk Sang Dae, greets the new Ga Ju, Yi Mo Baek.”
Thump!
He bowed slightly at the waist and offered the Respectful Fist Salute.
“We greet our Ga Ju.”
The Heuk Sang Dae warriors following behind cried out in unison.
No one had seen this turn of events coming.
Among the Yu Seong Pal Lo Dae warriors, save those from Heuk Sang Dae, not a soul was unmoved.
The most taken aback was Jong O Bang.

‘I don’t think I heard that wrong.’

Jong O Bang steadied his breathing and studied Un Hak San.
“Sub-Commander Un?”
The question was asking what had just happened to that form of address.
“Sub-Commander Jong, the warriors of Heuk Sang Dae and I have resolved to swear loyalty to Ga Ju Yi Mo Baek.”
“What did you just say?”
“We recognize and accept Yi Mo Baek, not Ui Ji Gwang, as the Ga Ju of the Mo Yong Clan.”
“You… you can’t be serious!”
“This… this is rebellion.”
The Yu Seong Pal Lo Dae warriors gasped in shock.
“Where… where is the Minister? Where is he?”
“By the information I’ve gathered, he rejected this succession and died at Doo Ong.”
Yi Mo Baek had been quite startled when he first met Un Hak San.
Just as with the imperial household, intelligence agencies of great houses operate to extremes.
Only the master’s orders are right, and they obey only his commands.
Simple and clear.
To expect betrayal from them would be foolish.
Of course, to prevent defection, they grant not only generous financial treatment but also the maximum authority possible.
Even among executives who share the same organization, those belonging to an intelligence agency rank far above ordinary members.
They operate within rigid chains of command, bound and hardened by absolute obedience to superiors.
Yet Un Hak San was different.
He was quite gentle, and he had received Yi Mo Baek—known then as Tan Hwang—with utmost care.
At that time, Yi Mo Baek observed Un Hak San and thought one thing.

‘He’s open.’

He was the sort of man who could change his path whenever circumstances permitted, seeking profit wherever it led.
Such men posed a danger of turning their heads toward another road should one appear later, but there was nothing to be done about it.
That was simply his nature.
In any case, that earlier judgment had proven sound.
Though not certain, he had identified Un Hak San as someone who would be the first to switch sides if Yi Mo Baek secured an advantageous position within the Mo Yong Clan—and he had been right.
He must have received a message bird carrying word that the Minister at Doo Ong was dead.
The Heuk Sang Dae warrior who sent that message bird would surely have written something like this.

‘Arrest Tan Hwang at once.’

But the news that the commander had died also meant one thing: the tide was turning against them.
He had come here to unite his subordinates, align their minds, and elevate Yi Mo Baek to power.
“Why hesitate, Maeng Ju Jong?”
Jong O Bang exhaled slowly.
The moment of choice had arrived.
A single choice could determine the course of a life—sometimes it became the beginning of a family’s rise.

‘The Jong Clan as a Great House.’

He murmured it to himself.
He’d grown accustomed to dreaming of it, and it sounded no worse than any other name.
Ui Ji Gwang himself had risen in rebellion to escape the Jong family’s servant status across three generations.
The birth of a great house required someone’s sacrifice—blood spilled and layered upon blood.
But in this moment, it seemed better to take a step back.
“Listen, all Yu Seong Pal Lo Dae. From this moment, your master is the young lord Yi Mo Baek. The true Ga Ju of the Mo Yong Clan—the one our late Ga Ju established—is he whom we must follow and serve.”
All eyes of the Yu Seong Pal Lo Dae turned toward Jong O Bang.
“If you do not wish to follow my command, you are free to return home. There will be no harm done to you, I swear it. But if you choose to follow, then kneel before the young lord Yi Mo Baek standing there.”
Thud!
Someone knelt.
Then, here and there, the men began to kneel.
In moments, some fifty warriors had knelt, though nearly half still stood.
They hesitated.
Crack!
Whoosh!
Yet one by one, more continued to kneel.
About twenty remained standing.
“Good. You are free to go. Your hearts, unable to accept him as master—that too is loyalty.”
“Are we truly free to leave?”
One man asked.
Jong O Bang spoke clearly.
“Of course. Go. Go in peace.”
“Maeng Ju Jong.”
Then Yi Mo Baek, who had been silent, opened his mouth.
“These men have served faithfully all this time. Why send them away with nothing? Give them sufficient travel coin and send them off with honor.”
“Understood.”
The moment Jong O Bang replied, suddenly about ten of the men knelt again.
“We will offer our loyalty.”
Thud-thud-thud!
And the remaining ten also knelt.
A master with a warm enough heart to send men away with travel coin would never abandon them, no matter what came to pass.
Such a master was worth serving.
“We greet the Ga Ju.”
The warriors of Heuk Sang Dae and Yu Seong Pal Lo Dae bowed deeply once more, their voices strong with respect.

Mo Yong Cheon’s complexion had grown even more pallid.
His once-confident frame had withered, and his appetite had diminished.
News from Gangho arrived constantly, and his sighs grew ever more frequent.
Outstanding physicians had come and gone, yet his condition did not improve.
The inexplicable bitter cold embedded in the Bun Gwang Kwaesuk—the Bun Ha Bing Ki.
He had known long ago that the Bun Ha Bing Ki was something to fear, but he had never been struck by it before and had not truly grasped its dread.
Had he known, he would have avoided direct confrontation; yet regret, no matter how swift, always comes too late.
“Ugh…”
Sitting on a hard wooden chair, he was sighing repeatedly when he heard hurried footsteps approaching.
“Maeng Ju!”
The owner of that familiar voice was Poong Gun.
Unlike usual, Poong Gun’s voice carried a note of excitement.
“News has just arrived. It seems the young lord has put his household in complete order.”
“Say it again. Is that truly so?”
“A reliable report, sir. They’ve eliminated Ui Ji Gwang and purged every last dissenter.”
“Yi Mo Baek… Yi Mo Baek, or should I say Mo Yong Mo Baek now. Hah, hah, hah!”
Mo Yong Cheon burst into loud laughter.
“Woo Gun.”
Woo Gun, standing to one side, answered.
“Yes, Maeng Ju.”
“What did I tell you? Didn’t I say I may be a warrior, but I have the eye of a merchant?”
“You did indeed, sir.”
“And you blocked me at every turn, insisting my judgment to make Yi Mo Baek the next leader of the Mo Yong Clan was wrong?”
“Of course, sir.”
“I was right.”
“As expected of our lord.”
“This is how you make a deal. Life itself is a transaction. Kwang was a capable man, but what’s to be done? In the violent world of Gangho, everything settles according to strength. Why blame anyone for that?”
“Indeed, sir.”
“He had potential.”
A disciple he had chosen and cultivated himself.
A Nominated Disciple.
Upon discovering Ui Ji Gwang’s superior bone structure and physique, Mo Yong Cheon had immediately taken him under his wing.
Ui Ji Gwang’s father, Ui Ji Sang, kept insisting the boy would be spoiled and urged Mo Yong Cheon to keep his distance, but Mo Yong Cheon never wavered in his resolve.
Ui Ji Gwang’s grandfather, Ui Ji Gon, had been formidable, and his father a fierce warrior.
Yet Ui Ji Gwang possessed a talent that eclipsed them both utterly.
From that moment on, Mo Yong Cheon poured paternal devotion into training and teaching him.
At some point, he noticed the boy’s thoughts had begun to offend his sensibilities, but he let it slide.
When a disciple is exceptional enough, a master’s heart wishes to overlook his flaws.
“Mul Wae Mul.”
“Sir?”
“Cheon Wae Cheon.”
Poong Gun’s eyes narrowed as he watched Mo Yong Cheon murmur to himself in this manner.
What was he saying?
Mul Wae Mul and Cheon Wae Cheon—both were similar phrases.
Mul Wae Mul meant something beyond the world, or a being of extraordinary singularity, while Cheon Wae Cheon denoted a realm beyond the mortal world—both describing a lofty state or something utterly unrivaled.
“He speaks of Yi Mo Baek.”
A sharp intake of breath.
Ui Ji Gwang had been so brilliant that Mo Yong Cheon made him a Nominated Disciple, yet Yi Mo Baek surpassed even that.
Both Mul Wae Mul and Cheon Wae Cheon were terms meant to describe Yi Mo Baek.
Different people see through different eyes.
Poong Gun was no exception.
He had never thought Yi Mo Baek superior to Ui Ji Gwang, but Mo Yong Cheon had pushed so relentlessly that he’d been forced, despite himself, to concede and step aside.
Yet now, hearing that Yi Mo Baek had eliminated not only Ui Ji Gwang but also a great many of his followers and seized control of the Mo Yong Clan, Poong Gun knew he had failed to read the vessel, while Mo Yong Cheon had seen it perfectly.
“You seem rather pleased, sir?”
Mo Yong Cheon’s face shone like sunlight.
“Pleased. Very pleased indeed.”
Though he did not speak it aloud, the rage burning in his chest was immense.
The first threat had been the one who’d hired the Bun Gwang Kwaesuk to take his life.
Many contenders sought the position of Maeng Ju.
Among them, the Gu Dae Mun Faction had been the most suspicious.
They boasted themselves the finest martial faction and looked upon the Five Great Clans as inferior.
They most despised any suggestion that they stood as equals with the Five Great Clans.
That a Maeng Ju had now emerged from one of those Five Great Clans must have felt an unbearable insult to them.
The second threat came from the remaining three of the Sa Dae Clan, excluding the Mo Yong Clan.
Beside their long histories, the Mo Yong Clan was a newcomer.
They themselves had yet to produce a Maeng Ju, and now Mo Yong Cheon wore that mantle—their hearts could hardly be at ease.
The Gu Dae Mun Faction and the Sa Dae Clan were the most formidable candidates seeking his downfall.
“Heh-heh!”
Mo Yong Cheon laughed.
Though not the vigorous, wholehearted guffaw one might expect, it was the first unguarded smile seen from him in a long while.
“Huh-huh-huh!”
The laughter stretched on, and the smile began to narrow.
Then Mo Yong Cheon’s face began to melt away like snow beneath the sun, flowing downward.
It was not a smile at all.

Everyone held their breath.
Yet their eyes had widened to their full extent, fixed on a single point.
Upon a table the height of a palm lay a corpse.
The body, caked in blood, was none other than Ui Ji Gwang.
Those gathered in the hall were the responsible administrators representing each organ of the Mo Yong Clan.
Some had sworn their loyalty, while others still maintained a watchful stance.
There was no time to persuade them or wait.
Once the Mo Yong Clan’s affairs were settled, they would need to move immediately into preparations for the Maeng Ju Martial Tournament.
Since there was no guarantee that rebellion would not break out in the interim, everything had to be made certain—and so, after much deliberation, the corpse of Ui Ji Gwang had been placed on display.
The body of Ui Ji Gwang, struck by the Baek Bo Sin Kwon, was gruesome; especially with his eyes wide open in death, it sent a chill through anyone who looked upon it.
Hearing that someone is dead and actually seeing the corpse are two very different things.
“If there is anyone among you who wishes to follow one who is dead, you are free to choose. I will not compel you.”
Would anyone truly wish to follow the dead?
Only a fool would do such a thing.
It was rather like asking if any fool present would raise their hand.
Silence.
“Ga Ju!”
Someone spoke up.
All eyes turned toward the man who had opened his mouth—it was Un Hak San, who had become the leader of the Heuk Sang Dae.
“If I may be so bold, might I offer a suggestion?”
“Speak freely. This is a place where we must be forthright with one another.”
“Every pledge requires a token of commitment.”
“Indeed it does.”
“Thus, I would like to propose something. Those of you gathered here doubtless have no difference in your willingness to accept the Ga Ju. Yet, to make your intentions all the more clear, would it not be fitting if each of you were to leave a mark of your martial art upon that wall as a neutral symbol of your pledge?”
Everyone started in surprise.

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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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