Murim School Record - Chapter 69

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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 69: Life Is Never Easy (1)

Had she fallen from the top of such a tall pine tree, even a healthy body would have perished.
“Yi Mo Baek wins.”
Sa Bok Si announced it loudly.
Then he turned to Yi Mo Baek and asked,
“You knew, didn’t you?”
Yi Mo Baek nodded.
“I did.”
Sa Bok Si’s eyes narrowed.
To discern at a glance the nature of an opponent’s palm force and what hidden toxins lay within—that was no simple feat.
Poison-laced force carried a fishy reek; medicinal force gave off a faint fragrance.
The palm force Cheon Bang Ma had unleashed moments before was the Tang Baek Bun Mi Jang.
An ancient technique from a dying sect, it mixed in a stupefying agent called Tang Baek Bun, which caused one to lose consciousness the instant the scent was caught—earning it the fearsome name Heaven and Earth Spurn the Human, reduced to Dried Meat.
Yet despite such a name, the force could easily have killed.
“Given the power of that blow, it seems you could have ended his life?”
“He didn’t strike me as a man of irredeemable character. I spared his life as encouragement to wake and live a better path.”
Though he could not rise, Cheon Bang Ma heard Yi Mo Baek’s words.
“I… thank you. To become Murim Alliance leader even once, I mastered the Cheon In Gong No Hal Sa Gong without thinking. From now on, I will repent and live as someone who protects the weak.”
“Take Cheon Bang Ma and see he receives proper treatment.”
The first martial competition ended thus.
Yi Mo Baek descended from the arena.
From each of the Ten Major Cities of Central Plains, two candidates would be selected to advance in the Murim Alliance.
To claim one of those two spots, he would need to fight five more times.
He did not know who his next opponent would be.
Notification came only one day before the match itself.
There were several reasons for revealing the opponent only just before combat.
The secrecy served to prevent accidents.
If revealed days in advance, cases of sabotage and assassination were far from rare.
When both fighters remained ignorant of each other, their true skill could be properly gauged.
There was one more point worth noting.
Yi Mo Baek had his own reason for concealing his identity.
As an ordinary participant, opponents would bring their full strength.
Only when fighting in mutual ignorance did either side stake everything to claim victory.
Should the world know him as the family head of the Mo Yong Clan, any opponent’s spirit would shrivel, no matter how formidable.
By hiding himself, he forced his adversaries to pour forth all they possessed.

Suzhou, along with Hangzhou, was among the most resplendent and prosperous cities in all the land.
It lay east of Taihu Lake, one of the Five Great Lakes of the Central Plains, and there was a saying: “In heaven there is paradise; on earth, Hangzhou and Suzhou”—a testament to a beauty of landscape found nowhere else under heaven.
The Dongshan Inn.
A two-story establishment built on the banks of the Sa Un River, where it flowed toward Taihu Lake.
The inn was crowded with patrons.
In its rear garden, where reeds along the riverbank could be seen, there stood a small pavilion, set apart and solitary.

The Ap Gwan Pavilion.

Its name meant a place from which ducks could be observed.
As twilight descended on the river, thousands of mallards would settle upon the water.
While hardly a sight of absolute transcendence, the spectacle of thousands of ducks alighting with their calls and cries was truly worth witnessing.
Splash.
Yi Mo Baek sat in the pavilion, drinking wine.
The Dongshan Inn was a secret base of the Mo Yong Clan.
The Mo Yong Clan maintained no few secret bases scattered throughout the Martial World, all operated by the Heuksang Dae.
The primary function of such secret bases was intelligence gathering.
The countless words spilled by patrons drinking and conversing in taverns were never without value.
Casually uttered remarks became intelligence, seeds of upheaval across the realm, signs of brewing rebellion.
“Head!”
I turned at the sudden voice.
A young man stood beneath the pavilion with a bedroll strapped to his back and a conical hat pressed down on his head.
“Suk Ji Un!”
“Head!”
The man quickly approached and offered a respectful salute.
“Come up here!”
“Yes!”
The man climbed into the pavilion and swiftly removed his hat.
It was Suk Ji Un.
He looked worn from the long journey, sweat trickling down his forehead.
“Your face has filled out—it seems the leader has finally come into his full ripeness.”
Suk Ji Un smiled faintly.
“Thank you for summoning me. I was just thinking it was strange you hadn’t sent word, feeling quite lonely about it, actually.”
Yi Mo Baek had called for him.

‘To hold that position completely, you need someone you can trust.’

It was something Mo Yong Cheon had said.
A man whose heart could be laid bare.
A leader’s silence stems from never knowing when a trusted subordinate might drive a blade into his back.
Words are the spark that invites death.
It’s important to have someone for official deliberation, but equally vital to have someone with whom private feelings can be exchanged.
Private communion—
it grants respite from the rushed and tense life, offering leisure and peace.
Suk Ji Un was the person who knew him best.
That’s why he’d sent a messenger to Dan Hu Jam, the head of the Red Mountain Bureau, and he sent Suk Ji Un in return.
“Have a drink.”
“Drinking the moment we meet?”
“The sage said that men communicate through wine.”
“Is that so?”
Suk Ji Un accepted the cup and regarded me closely.
Anyone else would simply believe such a claim about the sage.
But Suk Ji Un was different.
He had a habit of verifying everything.
That was precisely why Suk Ji Un had been summoned.
‘I haven’t had a proper education. But don’t go spouting anything before me either. I have a habit of checking facts.’

It meant he wouldn’t tolerate anyone boasting and preening.
That was what made him someone you could communicate with—someone without pretense.
“Your habit of verification remains unchanged. I don’t know either. My father did it, so I learned it the same way and use it as he did.”
“There are plenty of frauds among the elders, or so I’ve heard. Just because someone’s aged doesn’t mean they speak truth. There are plenty of adults who deal in half-measures and guesses. Of course, that wouldn’t be true of your father.”
At the end, he softened his words for Yi Mo Baek’s sake, assuring him his father wouldn’t be among them.
It was pure Suk Ji Un—witty and shrewd.
“Ji Un.”
“Yes, Head! Or would it be better if I called you Patriarch?”
“Call me whatever feels natural.”
“Honestly, I prefer ‘Head.’ It feels more intimate, and we were a shared destiny—companions through life and death.”
“You’ll be staying here for two weeks. The martial competition is the reason.”
“Why hide that you’re the patriarch of the Mo Yong Clan? It’s not some cheap calculation to get an impartial evaluation, is it?”
Hah!
Yi Mo Baek laughed.
“Do you know of the Heuksang Dae?”
“Of course. Anyone making a living in the Martial World has to know of the Heuksang Dae. They’re a fearsome organization, aren’t they? I’ve heard they’re connected to everything—even the emperor’s morning table, completely removed from the Martial World.”
He was right.
It was the Martial World’s assessment that they were even more formidable than the intelligence apparatus of the Murim Alliance.
The reason given was that the Mo Yong Clan was in Gangsu Province, so they entered the competition from this region, but one report from Wun Ak Mountain had caught his attention.

‘A considerable number of the competitors are unknowns.’

Only the Murim Alliance’s Suzhou branch division master knows who competed, whether they were male or female, young or old.
But the fact that the Mo Yong Clan’s Heuksang Dae member Wun Ak San had caught a glimpse meant someone among the Murim Alliance’s branch division officers was in contact with them.
The martial world contains more invisible masters than visible ones.
Yet not all who remain hidden—whether in seclusion or averse to fame—are masters at the peak of their art.
Still, according to Heuksang Dae’s tracking and surveillance, the contestants who had registered were far from ordinary.
“Have another drink.”
“You’re drinking quite a lot right after arriving. If you make a mistake, that would be a problem—”
Even so, he quickly offered the cup.
The large cup brimmed with liquor, and Suk Ji Un drank with confidence.

The second match was against a man named Mok Yi Chi.
His frame was so slight that one might easily mistake him for a woman, yet he wore a sword at his side.
His long black hair was tied back neatly, and his complexion was as pallid as that of a sickly person.
“State your age.”
The official wanted to verify it matched the registration documents.
“Twenty-two.”
Sa Bok Si proceeded with the simple identity confirmation.
“Yi Mo Baek.”
At the name, he nodded lightly.
Yi Mo Baek, too, was asked once more about his age and personal details, and he answered.
“Any questions?”
“None.”
Mok Yi Chi answered curtly.
“Neither do I.”
Yi Mo Baek said the same.
“Injury means defeat, death means defeat.”
“What if we both get hurt?”
Mok Yi Chi asked.
“We judge victory and defeat by the severity of the wound and the magnitude of the danger.”
“That seems fair.”
Mok Yi Chi looked satisfied.
“Take your positions.”
Both men stepped back and took their places at the marked boundary line.
“Begin!”
Boom!
The word had barely left his lips when a massive drum sounded.
The two men did not move.
Most competitors rushed forward before the drum’s echo had even faded.
In some cases, the fight was already over before the drum’s sound ceased.
Quick resolution.
Some had taken to calling such matches “flash-bang” competitions—over almost as soon as they began.
But these two remained motionless in their starting positions.
“Why aren’t they fighting?”
“There’s no such thing as a draw.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
After watching matches where bodies clashed in savage tangles, some spectators grew restless at the cold, unflinching stare-down before them.
“When are they going to start?”
“Just finish it already!”
They were clamoring for speed.
Yet the two men did not budge.

Gulp.
At the judges’ table below the arena, three men sat across from one another.
The lean elder seated in the center was Ga Mu Ok, the branch division master of the Murim Alliance’s Suzhou division.
At sixty-five this year, he was a seasoned veteran rich in combat experience; to his left sat the deputy division master Seo Mang, and to his right, the chief marshal Hwa Mu Sun.
The division master Ga Mu Ok, who had always watched the tournament with his upper body reclined back against his chair, now sat perfectly upright.
And he swallowed hard, again and again.
This was no ordinary stalemate.
In this martial competition, he had read that these were the most outstanding masters present.
“What do you make of it?”
He turned quietly to Seo Mang, who stood beside him as the deputy commander.
“I’m nervous.”
Snap!
At the mention of nerves, Ga Mu Ok gritted his teeth.
This time he turned his head the other way to look at Hwa Mu Sun, the chief inspector.
Hwa Mu Sun spoke without being asked.
“They appear to be the most formidable individuals.”
The competitors themselves might harbor dreams of the Alliance leadership, but from the Murim Alliance’s perspective, it was different.
Finding promising talent.
A strong Murim Alliance does not rest on the shoulders of a single leader alone.
No matter how powerful the leader is, if the individual martial skill of each warrior forming the various branches is unremarkable, the entire organization appears diminished.
What makes the Demonic Sect fearsome is not merely the overwhelming presence of the Heavenly Demon, but the extraordinary individual abilities of the Demon Kings and Dharma Protectors beneath him.
This is why the Demonic Sect turns like a well-oiled machine even without the Heavenly Demon.

The spectators had fallen silent.
The crowd spread out and realized that the two were not refraining from fighting out of mere hesitation, but because they were such exceptional masters that neither dared to move carelessly.
At this, the spectators themselves clenched their fists and their eyes gleamed.
Brawling martial competitions with heavy blows and grappling were entertaining enough, but the tactical duel unfolding within this breathless standoff was also a supreme spectacle.
“One carries a blade while the other fights empty-handed. Yet neither can land an attack and they remain at an impasse—which means they’re evenly matched, so shouldn’t Yi Mo Baek, the master of Jeok Su Gong Gwon, have the advantage?”
“You could see it this way too: when the skill levels are similar, the side with a weapon holds the upper hand.”
Both observations held merit.
In an evenly matched state, it was indeed fact that the side possessing a weapon gained a slight edge.
The crowd’s gaze slowly shifted to Mok Yi Chi.

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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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