The Wizard Who Endured the World of Murim - Chapter 21

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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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Surviving in the Martial Realm as a Mage: Episode 21
“Your tongue’s sharp.”
“What? You’re saying that to me, Kid?”
Ilhyang watched the spearman’s eyes narrow and flicked his finger dismissively.
“If you’ve got a problem, come at me, you bastard. Stop running your mouth.”
“You, you insolent little punk….”
The spearman’s face flushed crimson as he stepped forward with a long stride.
The ronins standing nearby naturally took several steps back.
In the world of ronins, this kind of display of strength was commonplace.
It was essentially a greeting of sorts.
“I am Yang Cheon-jo, wielder of the Crimson Wind Spear. What is your name?”
“Ilhyang.”
“Ho? So you’re the one called the Flame Fist Master!”
The spearman’s mouth fell open wide.
That fool’s thoughts were painfully transparent.
He wanted to make a strong impression on his employer.
And during this escort mission, he wanted to show off his skills to the other ronins.
‘And he probably thought I looked easy to push around too.’
But from my perspective, this wasn’t a bad situation at all.
This kind of thing happened every time I took on a contract, so I was used to it.
I clenched and unclenched my fists, nodding as I spoke.
“How about this—whoever loses becomes the winner’s servant for the duration of the mission?”
Two birds with one stone.
Having a slave to attend to me throughout the contract would be convenient.
At the mention of a servant, the face of the Inn Server from the inn flashed through my mind.
He’d put on such a pitiful display of tears, saying today was his last day.
Impressed by his incredible acting, I’d found myself pulling out my coin purse once more and tipping him without thinking.
“Ha… A servant? This crazy bastard. You need to have your limbs broken to come to your senses. Though kids your age don’t listen worth a damn anyway.”
“Scared?”
It was a short and simple provocation, but its effect was certain.
Excellent value for effort.
A thick vein bulged at Yang Cheon-jo’s temple.
“Damn it. You little punk, if I lose to you, I’ll call you father.”
“Deal accepted.”
I grinned.
The way he added unnecessary conditions showed he’d survived in this world long enough to know better.
Then.
Whoosh—
The spearman lightly swung the spear in his hand once.
A sharp, ominous sound of the air being torn filled the surroundings.
‘Huh?’
Ilhyang’s eyes flickered with a hint of change.
It was unexpected.
Separate from his failure to grasp the situation.
He was a skilled practitioner who had learned the spear properly from somewhere.
“I’ll graciously yield the first strike. This is what you call adult composure, you brat. Hahahaha!”
Watching the spear wielder brimming with confidence, Ilhyang’s lips twitched slightly.
He brushed his hands off lightly and spoke.
“Get ready to serve a new father.”
Ilhyang snapped his fingers lightly and cast the Grease spell on the ground.
A second-circle spell that drastically reduced the coefficient of friction across a very narrow area of the floor.
Normally, one would need to draw a magic circle with mana and channel mana into it to invoke the phenomenon.
‘But not me.’
Ilhyang had long since passed that stage.
This level of magic could be activated in an instant with eyes closed.
‘Though one spell alone might not be enough.’
Ilhyang simultaneously cast another spell.
He layered a wind-attribute spell upon himself.
As his body grew lighter, Ilhyang’s form that had been charging forward suddenly—
Whoosh—
Shot forward like a projectile, as if sliding across ice.
“What?”
A bizarre movement—neither footwork nor lightness technique.
Yang Cheon-jo, completely unprepared for Ilhyang’s phantom-like mobility,
desperately exhaled and thrust his spear forward.
“Hyah!”
Shwip—
A sharp, snake-like thrust unfolded, solid in its fundamentals and quite convincing.
But.
‘Predictable.’
Ilhyang tilted his body nearly horizontal like a loach, evading the thrust,
and slipped into the spear wielder’s embrace as naturally as a child being cradled.
Then came an uppercut to the spear wielder’s ashen face.
It landed squarely on his chin.
Gack—
With a single blow,
the light vanished from the spear wielder’s eyes.
His consciousness severed in an instant.
Thud—
Watching the spear wielder collapse like a paper doll to the ground,
Ilhyang opened his mouth as he observed the senior bounty hunter standing behind him with a dazed expression.
“As you can see, there are no significant injuries.”
“Y-yes, it does appear that way.”
Jochang, the senior bounty hunter, swallowed hard and looked at Ilhyang.
The Dongpae Ronin was treated as a first-rate master in this field.
So what level should one consider a young boy who knocked out such a first-rate master with a single strike?
‘A far more formidable expert than the rumors suggested!’
From the escort bureau’s perspective, it was cause for celebration.
It was already a long-distance escort mission, and now a skilled master had joined their ranks.
‘And to think we’re employing someone of Dongpae caliber or higher for merely an iron-rank fee!’
This was a remarkably profitable arrangement.
He could already envision the pleased faces of his superiors.
In the meantime.
“I’m called Jang Geo. I carry the Dongpae rank.”
“A pleasure to meet you. I’m Ilhyang.”
Once Ilhyang displayed his prowess.
The other ronin who had been watching quickly stepped forward to introduce themselves.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Young Ho-myeong. In the eastern regions of Kangho, I’m known as the Tyrant’s Force. I also hold the Dongpae rank.”
“I’m So Il-hyeon. In Kangho, they call me the Sword of Flames, and I’m likewise Dongpae. But your skill is quite impressive. I was genuinely moved.”
“The opponent was simply too easy.”
Ilhyang brushed dust from his sleeve and responded matter-of-factly.
So Il-hyeon, with his weathered features, widened his eyes and spoke.
“Whoa~ that was quite a cool thing to say. Still, the Bloodwind Spear is a fairly renowned master in these parts.”
“It seems this is a generous region.”
“Puhaha, you’re actually more entertaining than I expected!”
Thus, Ilhyang engaged in pleasant conversation with the other ronin, excluding the unconscious Yang Cheon-jo, and established his position among them.
Meanwhile.
Yang Cheon-jo, who had been briefly unconscious, finally regained consciousness.
“Ugh… what on earth just happened…”
Ilhyang crouched down in front of Yang Cheon-jo, who was shaking his head and rising to his feet, meeting him at eye level.
Upon spotting Ilhyang, Yang Cheon-jo’s pupils flared with unmistakable fury.
“You… you cowardly bastard, ambushing me while I was careless…”
“Try calling me father.”
“…What?”
“You can even call me dad if you prefer.”
“…”
Yang Cheon-jo’s pupils trembled like a candle flame before the wind.
Only then did the wager he had made before the match resurface in his mind.
Yet he still could not bring himself to utter the word father.
‘…Did I really lose to this kid?’
His opponent was merely a half-grown brat compared to his own stature.
Yang Cheon-jo cast desperate glances around, seeking aid from those nearby.
Yet they merely watched as though observing some amusing spectacle, their lips curling in smirks.
‘Damn it! Have I lost my mind? Why did I spout such nonsense….’
His master had warned him countless times to guard his tongue.
And yet here he was, having caused this disaster regardless.
Whether Yang Cheon-jo regretted his actions or not mattered little.
Ilhyang’s lips curled into a slight smile as he whispered near the man’s ear.
“My boy. From this moment forward, you are Il Cheon-jo.”
“….”
In a single morning, Yang Cheon-jo had become Il Cheon-jo.
His surname had changed.
“Remember your new name well. Ah, and I always eat breakfast, so make sure to prepare it for me every single day. I’m particularly fond of warm tofu, so don’t forget to bring that.”
“…!”
As Yang Cheon-jo stood gaping in utter shock, the Ronins gathered nearby began to snicker and laugh.
The preparations the Escort Bureau had been making were finally complete.
“It appears the preparations are finished. There will be a simple ceremony followed by a departure ceremony, so please join us as well, warriors.”
Senior Bounty Hunter Jochang suppressed his barely contained laughter and led the assembled Ronins toward the Jinseong Escort Agency’s Training Grounds.
During the journey to the Training Grounds.
Everyone present shared the same thought.
Perhaps this escort mission would prove more entertaining than expected.
Of course, the thoughts of the Blood Storm Spear Yang Cheon-jo were entirely different.
Naturally, no one gave his thoughts any consideration whatsoever.
* * *
Song Gwang-sik, the Bright Moon Swordsman.
As the Assassination Squad Leader of the Namgung Family.
A month ago, he had struggled desperately to save his subordinates from a master of the Mansizong.
Song Gwang-sik, who had traversed a two-day journey in mere half a day and joined forces with the Branch Family masters of the Namgung Clan.
Upon arriving at the actual scene, found himself utterly dumbfounded.
There were no corpses of his subordinates.
And that young monster girl from Mansizong had become nothing but charred rubble, fragmented and burned.
Without time to process his shock, he followed the marks left on the ground and rushed frantically to Giyang County.
There he encountered Na Han-il, the Deputy Commander of the Assassination Squad and the Storm Sword master.
“What in the world has happened? Are you alright?”
Na Han-il.
He gazed intently at Song Gwang-sik, whose face was etched with worry.
His lips, cracked like a tortoise shell, were the first thing to catch his eye.
His disheveled hair and dust-covered garments came into view next.
That dignified gentleman who always maintained meticulous appearance, even leaving his post to bathe alone during surveillance duties.
Seeing him arrive in such a battered state felt strangely unsettling.
So Na Han-il lifted his scarred face toward the ceiling, then let out a soft chuckle and cracked a joke.
“I suppose I wasn’t fated to die after all. You really can’t predict people’s fortunes, can you? I made such a grand exit back there, and yet here I am, alive and breathing. Ugh, I’m so embarrassed I could die.”
“You crazy bastard. You’re alive—that’s what matters. Forget the embarrassment.”
Song Gwang-sik collapsed onto the edge of the bed, kneading his aching limbs.
Over the past two days,
he hadn’t stopped moving, not even for a single sip of water.
He’d poured everything into reaching this place.
So much so that despite no actual combat, he’d sustained some internal injuries.
“Remarkably, the others made it through unscathed too. It seems they took extraordinary care of themselves in the chaos. The Chussal Daeju was dying up front, yet these men came out without a scratch. I don’t understand how that’s possible.”
“Our people have grit, I’ll give them that. The chain of command is a mess, though.”
Watching Na Han-il ramble on so coherently, Song Gwang-sik felt considerably relieved.
Despite his cracked lips bleeding, he broke into a grin.
Na Han-il laughed like a madman in return and spoke.
“By the way, I noticed reinforcements from the Branch Family arrived earlier. Was requesting backup really necessary?”
“It’s fine. They got their outing and proper travel expenses. They’re probably happy about it. Besides, they’re handling the cleanup at the scene, so I don’t even have to write a report. Works out perfectly for me.”
“Our Lord looks like he might collapse any moment now. Why don’t you go rest in the room next door? The medical clinic doesn’t seem to be doing much business—there are plenty of empty beds.”
“You brat. You’re fond of our Lord, aren’t you? When did you stop calling me Brother Gwang-sik? I thought we were friends. There’s a ten-year gap between us in seniority.”
Only then did Na Han-il avert his gaze from Song Gwang-sik, his expression turning sheepish.
“That was just what I called you in the heat of the moment. There’s nothing urgent now, is there? And don’t people usually curse and carry on when things are urgent anyway?”
“Sigh… when did our Assassination Squad’s hierarchy become such a mess? I never even stepped in the shadow of the previous Chussal Daeju back in my prime.”
Just as Song Gwang-sik was about to launch into tales of his glory days, Na Han-il quickly opened his mouth to cut him off.

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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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