Murim School Record - Chapter 63

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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 63: Small Minds and Great Minds (2)

They say praise travels like a tortoise while slander spreads like an arrow.
Yet Mo Yong Cheon had treated the Hwang Ha Suro League with such coldness that it came as a shock when they cast a dissenting vote against his removal proposal.
Today was the fifth and final session.
If it failed again today, Mo Yong Cheon’s removal proposal would be automatically shelved.
So those who viewed Mo Yong Cheon as a thorn in their side had been working desperately to bring over the Yang Family and the Hwang Ha Suro League.

‘What exactly is your reason for opposing it?’

The supporters, worn thin by frustration, pressed the question.
Mo Yong Cheon was the one who had repeatedly obstructed the proposal to elevate the Yang Family into the ranks of the Six Great Clans of the martial world.
Yet Yang Woo Bi, the Household Master of the Yang Family, still cast a vote against it.

‘To allow personal feelings to cloud such a momentous decision—that is the petty, narrow-minded conduct of no true leader.’

There was nothing to say to that.
The response was so clear—that and this are different matters—it almost seemed admirable.

The recess ended and the assembly reconvened.
Just as the meeting was about to commence, the door opened and Na Woong Seonsa entered.
He was the Buddhist monk representing the Shaolin delegation to the Murim Alliance.
He approached cautiously, handed over a small message slip, and withdrew.
Cheong Ak Seonsa, the vice-leader who had taken his position from Shaolin, unfolded the slip to read it.
The moment Cheong Ak Seonsa finished reading, his face went rigid.
“What is it?”
Tae Geuk Geom Do, the Sect Leader of the Wudang who sat beside him, asked.
Whoosh.
Cheong Ak Seonsa passed the message slip to Tae Geuk Geom Do.
As Tae Geuk Geom Do received and examined it, his expression shifted to one of shock.
“The next heir of the Mo Yong Clan has arrived?”
“The Mo Yong Clan?”
Ping!
Puck!
The message slip began flying about chaotically as the inner force of those trying to see it sent it whirling in all directions.
It was like a pack of starving wolves fighting over a single small morsel.
Yet amid the chaos, two men remained radiant with joy.
Yang Woo Bi, the Household Master of the Yang Family, and Sa Gong San, the Alliance Leader representing the Hwang Ha Suro League.

‘Heaven itself does not abandon us.’

Sa Gong San exhaled the breath he had been holding, releasing it in a long, deliberate sigh.
It had been difficult.
The central faction of the Murim Alliance—the Nine Sects and One Alliance, led by Shaolin—had been frequently at odds with them.
Yet it wasn’t as though they had committed some grave transgression or that frequent conflicts had erupted.
Rather, simply because they found that faction displeasing, whenever those people said to go east, they went west; whenever they proposed dining together, they drank wine instead.
Despite such constant provocation and obstruction, somehow the Nine Sects and One Alliance had never wavered, never fractured—holding firm in unity.
They stood as steadfast as an imposing mountain range, immovable in their position.
When the Murim Alliance Leader had been chosen not from the Nine Sects and One Alliance, but from the Five Great Clans, and moreover from the Mo Yong Clan, which had joined last—this was no cause for celebration.
There had been numerous attempts to dislodge Mo Yong Cheon from the position of Alliance Leader, yet they had failed repeatedly.
His martial prowess was beyond compare.
Countless challengers from the Nine Sects and One Alliance had stepped forward, only to be defeated again and again.
Yet the Sect Leaders themselves could not take action.
Should they remain idle, they would be respected and honored; but if they went out to fight and suffered defeat, not only the individual but the entire sect would fall into ruin.

‘I oppose it.’

The meeting resumed.
Two men resisted with stubborn resolve.
The Nine Sects and One Alliance had spent the last four Yong Ho Conferences marshaling acquaintances from the martial world who stood close to them, seeking to persuade and turn hearts.
It would be a lie to say they hadn’t wavered.
High positions had been dangled before them, yet they held firm.
In truth, it might have looked foolish.
They’d even been called foolish for it.
Yi Mo Baek had made no promises—yet a chance meeting that day, a few words exchanged with a stranger, had captured both body and heart.

‘A man of worth needs few words.’

Yi Mo Baek was no ordinary figurehead.
Though he spoke modestly, his words carried weight, and his eyes burned like a volcano.
The decisive factor was Man Bi Ong, the military strategist of the Yang Family.

‘Household Master, draw closer to him.’

The moment he laid eyes on Yi Mo Baek, he trembled.
His astonishment was so profound that his mouth hung open.
He was too startled to properly express his own emotions.

‘A remarkable man. One who treads upon heaven and gazes down upon the world—Man Sang Seong Jae.’

He himself knew the physiognomy of Man Sang Seong Jae.
It was an old oral tradition passed down through the martial world, rumor and gossip, yet also undeniable fact.
Man Sang Seong Jae—one who rules all under heaven.
A man bearing this destiny would unify the martial world and hold dominion over it.
Had these words come from anyone else, he would have doubted them; but they came from Man Bi Ong, the only man he truly trusted.
There was no reason to hesitate.
By fortunate timing, Sa Gong San arrived that very day, and he too was utterly captivated.

‘I am unconditionally on Yi Mo Baek’s side.’

From that moment until now, Sa Gong San had eyes only for Yi Mo Baek.

‘Life is an investment. A single choice in a single moment determines the course of your entire existence.’

Such was Sa Gong San’s philosophy of life.
It was then that someone muttered under their breath.

‘This is turning into complete chaos.’

A voice thick with despair.
Mo Yong Cheon’s decision to throw open the selection for Murim Alliance Leader was born from a single calculation.
Among the masters of the great martial houses—encompassing the Nine Sects and One Alliance and the Five Great Clans—there was no one as young as Yi Mo Baek.
All were seasoned veterans past fifty, absolute masters holding sway over an era.
Mo Yong Cheon had driven home the principle that regardless of station or sect affiliation, any person should be able to challenge for the Murim Alliance Leader position.
Until now, there had been certain qualifications required to become Murim Alliance Leader; not anyone with high martial prowess could simply enter the tournament.
But by suddenly removing all qualification restrictions, Mo Yong Cheon signaled one unmistakable fact.
If that were the case, every nobody and their brother would throw their hat in the ring.
Those lacking self-awareness, driven by pride, or hoping merely to make their names known—riffraff of every stripe would rush forward to compete.
That said, not all of them were mere riffraff.
Among them would appear formidable masters, and eccentric recluses untethered from the secular world might well emerge.
The real problem lay with the masters of the great houses who desired the position of Alliance Leader.
If they entered the tournament to become Alliance Leader, only to fall to an unexpected unknown—that would be catastrophic.
The martial world was deep as the sand upon a shore, hiding untold masters.
Should they lose, their influence within the Murim Alliance would wither, and the reputation they had painstakingly built would crumble to dust in an instant.
Thus they could not easily participate.
By removing qualification restrictions for participants, Mo Yong Cheon had placed them in an impossible bind.
The leaders of the Nine Great Sects and One Alliance and the Five Great Clans, who formed the core of the Murim Alliance, could hardly help but hesitate.
Perhaps they would all step back.
If that happened, the situation would become decidedly favorable to Yi Mo Baek.

‘Not just anyone becomes Murim Alliance Leader.’

Sa Gong San and Yang Woo Bi exchanged glances and smiled.
It was a meaningful smile.

Two elderly men stood before the Mo Yong Hall, where the Mo Yong Clan of the Murim Alliance resided.
They were Moo Ha Ram, the Murim Alliance’s dispatch commander, and No Haeng Dok, the Black Martial Inspectorate’s chief.
Moo Ha Ram was sixty-five this year, No Haeng Dok in his early forties, and both men enjoyed Mo Yong Cheon’s trust.
But that was only information from when Mo Yong Cheon was in good health.
Now that he had announced his abdication of the Murim Alliance Leadership on the Mid-Autumn Festival, no one but he himself knew what lay in his heart.
Clatter!
The sound of carriage wheels rolling filled the air as Yi Mo Baek appeared, driving the carriage himself.
The carriage entered the courtyard, and the two men stepped forward a few paces.
As Yi Mo Baek descended from the driver’s seat, both men bowed deeply and performed the Respectful Fist Salute.
“We greet the Household Master.”
Formal and respectful.
Yi Mo Baek brushed the dust from his robes and smiled faintly.
“Here?”
He had come here once before, long ago when he briefly belonged to Shaolin’s Gongyang Kitchen.
Of course, that time he hadn’t come by choice—he’d stumbled in after losing his way.
He’d nearly been beaten by the sentries.
“Let us enter.”
“This way.”
As Yi Mo Baek moved toward the main hall where the central staircase was visible, Moo Ha Ram guided him to the left instead.
Rounding behind the main hall, a single-story structure appeared, surrounded by a small pond and winding pines packed densely together.

Gajae Hall.

The hall where the Household Master dwelt.
Here, the Household Master was Moo Ha Ram.
Yi Mo Baek was led into Moo Ha Ram’s quarters, Gajae Hall, which proved to be quite lavish.
“It is because this is the Household Master’s residence,”
Moo Ha Ram explained that the extravagance had not been created by himself but by the authority of being the Murim Alliance Leader’s quarters.
There were even handmaidens sent by the Alliance, and they brought steaming tea.
Slurp!
Yi Mo Baek drank a sip of the hot tea.
“How are things at the Murim Alliance these days? Coming in, I didn’t sense a bad atmosphere.”
He asked Moo Ha Ram abruptly.
Moo Ha Ram smiled wryly.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Well, if it appears so to the Household Master, that is fortunate. But from where I stand, it seems to be finished.”
“Finished? What do you mean?”
“After forcing Sect Leader Mo Yong Cheon out and attempting to change the Martial Arts Tournament regulations, those plans have come to nothing now that you’ve arrived, have they not? Do you know Yang Woo Bi and Sa Gong San well?”
“Why do you ask?”
“They are relentless. The Yong Ho Cheong council has dragged on this long precisely because those two have obstructed our efforts.”
“Obstructed?”
“They opposed us to the end. We employed every method to persuade them, but they stubbornly refused.”
Yi Mo Baek’s expression grew satisfied.
He had heard through third parties something of how the Murim Alliance was turning, but he hadn’t known those two men would go so far to protect Mo Yong Cheon.
To protect Mo Yong Cheon was to stand on his side.
Moo Ha Ram had advocated for granting a special privilege to the descendants of the Nine Great Sects, the Five Great Clans, and certain great families—allowing them to advance directly to the main tournament held by the Alliance without competing in regional preliminaries.

‘Complete bastards, the lot of you. Rigging things for yourselves—that’s what this is.’

Curses and rage erupted from corners of the martial world against them.
But the reality is, once those in power make a decision, others have no choice but to follow it.

‘As if things will go your way.’

He had thought the initial chaos would subside once a verdict was reached.
But as time passed, the outcry grew louder—voices condemning the unfair treatment, faces flushed with indignation.
An announcement came at last: the matter would be forgotten, as if it never happened.
“Are they close, then?”
“You speak of the Household Master and the Murim Alliance Leader?”
“Even when words bordering on threats passed between them, neither so much as blinked, or so I’m told.”
“They are not distant. Those two are formidable people—make no mistake.”
Yi Mo Baek smiled oddly.

From between the teeth of Cheong Ak Seonsa, newly appointed Vice Leader, came a constant stream of disapproving clicks.
Sa Dae Geumangang sat near him, their expressions equally dark.

‘Yi Mo Baek.’

Strictly speaking, he was a Shaolin man.
Not a formal disciple, but belonging to the Gongyang Kitchen—there was no denying he could be called one if pressed.
In any case, few paid him any attention.
Or rather, someone did.
It was Cheong Mong Seonsa, the elder brother of Cheong Ak Seonsa, who served as both Vice Leader and Sect Leader.

‘Does the master’s eye truly not see that boy?’

Cheong Mong Seonsa had once spoken while watching Yi Mo Baek chop wood.

‘In my eyes, he is merely an assistant in the Gongyang Kitchen.’
‘Tsk, tsk. Shaolin is finished. A Sect Leader who cannot recognize a pearl buried in the earth.’

He had dismissed it as the ranting of a madman.
To his eye, Yi Mo Baek was not a talent worthy of such effusive praise.
His aptitude lay slightly above the ordinary—a level of potential scattered abundantly among Shaolin disciples.
Still, because those words came from his elder brother, whenever he passed the Gongyang Kitchen, he would glance at the boy once or twice. Nothing ever changed.
And yet that same youth had become the successor to the Mo Yong Clan.
But that was not all.

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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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