The Wizard Who Endured the World of Murim - Chapter 72

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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 72
“Ugh, one day you’ll find a vessel that actually suits you, maggot.”
“An old elf guzzles expensive wine and spouts nonsense. If that’s all you’ve got, get out of here right now.”
“Sigh, crouching in that ill-fitting little vessel of yours, your power overflows and causes trouble for everyone around you. Trash.”
“Hey, I’ve been curious about this for a while—what do you Immortal Race bastards believe in that makes you all so foul-mouthed? Didn’t I tell you before? Death has no order, so why do you keep—”
“If you ever do change vessels, try learning swordplay instead of magic. You might actually get better results than you do now, you worm.”
“Ha, so attaching insults to the end of everything is just your way of saying hello, isn’t it? Right? Dvergar. You can hear what that weakling is saying, can’t you? Can’t you?”
“Kekeke, quite the conversation.”
The great archmage Trevallion.
He found himself wiping his flushed forehead at a private gathering held in his own duchy after all these years.
This gathering had been arranged long ago.
It was created to commemorate the death of Hero Alexid Graim.
Decades had passed since the subjugation of the Demon King.
Now the Hero was treated as nothing more than legend or myth even by the Empire.
Alexid Graim.
To honor that foolishly pure-hearted Hero.
Those who knew him best and remembered him most gathered like this once every ten years to hold a memorial service.
Of course, one couldn’t resort to violence at such an occasion, no matter how angry.
Whether Trevallion’s face flushed red and he fumed or not.
The noble High Elf, Ailanor Sillarion.
He was an overwhelmingly handsome man—the kind you could never see in the human world.
But now he was merely a drunk with eyes glazed over from alcohol. He stared at Trevallion with vacant pupils and opened his mouth.
“Fate that has been set cannot be changed. You were born as a mutation from the start, something twisted and wrong.”
“Are you pretending to be drunk right now? Where did this old bastard learn all these nasty tricks? Damn you!”
“How dare you curse before the face of a great High Elf? Your rudeness has truly reached the heavens.”
“Look at you, understanding every word. Come up to the rooftop with me right now, you bird-brained fool.”
“A great High Elf does not favor violence, you blockhead.”
“You don’t favor violence? Just counting the Demon Clan you’ve shot dead with arrows, the number would exceed a thousand! I can still hear their wails ringing in my ears!”
“How unfortunate that you’re hearing voices. You really should visit the Temple, you substandard imbecile.”
The Dwarf, who had been quietly observing the sparring between human and elf, chuckled and asked.
“What about the young Priest?”
“Dead, of course. His time had come, hadn’t it?”
“…Short-lived races are the problem. Just when they start to become worthwhile, they die.”
“He went smiling, so there’s no need to worry, old man. Right up to the end, he went with ceremonial wine pouring into his mouth? He was quite the spectacle till the very last.”
“He was the first human I ever met who loved wine more than a Dwarf. He was a trustworthy fellow in many ways.”
“Well, he was an entertaining one, at least.”
The three’s disorganized memorial service continued throughout the entire day.
They spoke whatever came to mind—curses and gossip.
They yearned for the dead.
And they spoke of themselves, those who had survived.
And so it went.
“Speaking of Manmulsang. He hasn’t shown up in a while. Has he run out of things to sell?”
“The time hasn’t come yet.”
“That fellow always appeared out of nowhere like that before, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
Trevallion wanted to ask more questions, but.
Upon noticing the elf staring at him with eyes that gleamed with mischief, I closed my mouth.
“Fine, you old geezers. I won’t ask. You’re charging quite the premium for this.”
“The hidden truths of the world are meant to be discovered through your own strength, spell-slinger.”
“Got it, pointy-ears.”
“Disrespectful wretch.”
“What? You’re one to talk, you eunuch.”
For the first time, Sillarion’s lips trembled visibly at an insult.
They had been exchanging light jabs back and forth.
But when his opponent suddenly struck treacherously with a blade, the blow landed deep.
“…A great High Elf is born with such nobility that such vulgar things are unnecessary.”
“You castrated bastard.”
“…You insane fool!”
At last, crude profanity erupted from the noble elf’s lips, and Trevallion burst into laughter.
“This bastard. You’ve really mastered the curses I taught you. You’re an excellent student. I feel genuinely proud.”
The High Elf’s eyes flickered with anger for a moment.
But soon he calmed himself and brought the wine cup to his lips before speaking.
“In any case, remember this, spell-slinger. Should you ever happen to change vessels, learn swordsmanship properly.”
“I’ve already learned it well enough.”
“Not so half-heartedly. Try to truly master it.”
“You’re such a fossil with your nagging.”
But Trevallion let it go at that.
Though the nagging was relentless, I knew at least that his words were meant to help me.
At the time, I simply brushed it aside.
But as time passed, Trevallion came to understand what the elf’s warning truly meant.
* * *
The Hyeoncheonseongdo Old Material Market.
Nearly every item needed by the Celestial Watchers was prepared here.
Among them, certain goods stood out distinctly.
“This section seems to have an excessive amount of Soft Body Cultivation Method materials.”
The Soft Body Cultivation Method is a collective term for ascetic practices that strengthen the physical body.
Among the various methods of body refinement.
The fastest approach was to refine and consume the corpses of demonic beasts.
Or alternatively, to ingest expensive spirit pills such as vital essence pills.
“Ah yes, there have been constant skirmishes with demonic beasts recently.”
“There are only three regions bordering the demon beasts, are there not? Even if we exclude the Gui Yi Continent, I understand that both the Dao Yuan Realm and the Cang Qiong Realm require a minimum cultivation level of at least the Origin Realm stage for entry.”
“Hmm, yes, many people are dying in those places. It seems the Senior cultivators of at least the Origin Realm stage are working hard to manage the situation.”
“Even so, the quantity flooding the market seems excessive…”
“Most of them are likely farmed creatures. Their value would be considerably lower than those hunted directly, but the supply is stable on that front.”
So there existed somewhere a place where demon beasts were being bred.
On a truly massive scale, no less.
It was also the location Ilhyang needed to find.
“Could it be you’re interested in the Soft Body Cultivation Method? What a coincidence! I know a shop quite well—it’s run by a rather skilled appraiser, so I can vouch for the quality of their products.”
Man Chong explained his regular shop with the enthusiasm of a tour guide introducing a tourist attraction, his expression bright with opportunity.
Ilhyang listened to this without particular interest.
Yet suddenly, I recalled the advice the Elf had given me before—to properly master swordsmanship.
‘Would it be worthwhile to learn one Soft Body Cultivation Method if I’m to master swordsmanship?’
The Soft Body Cultivation Method was a celestial technique that caused the body to grow stronger.
Yet strangely, I harbored resistance toward such methods.
To truly master swordsmanship, one shouldn’t elevate their realm by consuming something prepared externally like this.
Rather, it should be learned by rolling through dirt and grime with one’s own hands—that was the authentic way.
‘What meaning is there in learning swordsmanship while sitting in the Training Hall?’
Even as I recognized my own thinking was somewhat stubborn and old-fashioned, I simultaneously believed there was no point in learning it any other way.
“I was merely curious, Senior.”
“Is that so? I’ve heard such demon beast corpses are quite rare in the Lower Realm.”
When Man Chong saw his guest wasn’t following his lead, he displayed obvious disappointment—though Ilhyang paid it no mind whatsoever.
Then, on a whim, I decided to test the waters with a subtle suggestion.
“The Lower Realm has almost no demon beasts, so it’s fascinating. I’d like to see them moving about alive at least once.”
As expected, Man Chong immediately took the bait.
“Eh? You have such refined tastes! How fortunate—I know someone who’s become incredibly famous in this surrounding area for demon beast breeding and training. They call him Ban Eun-pae of the Red Whip, and the very mention of his name makes the demon beasts in the area lose control.”
“Oh!”
Listening to Man Chong speak with such excitement, a thought suddenly occurred to me.
‘What exactly does this fellow do with his time?’
Man Chong’s connections were suspiciously extensive.
He was barely at the Decisive Realm stage.
Yet he seemed far more occupied with gallivanting about than with cultivation.
Every time he opened his mouth, it was either about a shop he knew
or a place where he was a longtime regular.
‘At least it’s proven useful.’
Watching Man Chong with his slightly elevated spirits, I continued to scratch his back gently.
“Could it be possible for this Junior to visit the place where the demon beasts are kept, thanks to the Senior’s connection?”
“Haha! Not difficult at all. Ban Eun-pae was my childhood neighborhood friend. He was always strangely interested in animals and insects, and grew up to become a demon beast trainer.”
The way he puffed out his chest and boasted seemed honest enough that it wasn’t distasteful.
‘That’s quite a skill in itself.’
Because his nature was always so transparent, despite his talkativeness, he was someone who would never make enemies.
And so Man Chong strode forward with eager steps.
To the eastern edge of Hyeoncheon Holy City.
Guiding me toward the residential quarters of the outer districts.
“I understand the pastures are located outside the Holy City. However, a select few of the more valuable beasts are brought inside and raised here. Ban Eun-pae mentioned it himself. He said the expensive and rare ones require special training. He insisted on handling it personally.”
This was genuinely useful information.
On the way to the dormitory of Ban Eun-pae, the beast trainer.
I paused mid-step when a familiar sound reached my ears.
Clang—! Clang—! Clang!
Screeeech—!
The sound of hammering metal and cooling steel tickled my ears.
This was from long ago.
When Dvergar, the Dwarf King, visited villages and demonstrated weapon maintenance.
A sound that purified the soul.
“A place where magical artifacts are forged.”
Most people associate metalwork with weapons.
But the Purple Cloud Sect dealt primarily with garments and jewelry rather than weapons.
So we had no blacksmith shop of such grand scale within our sect.
Only a small furnace with the bare essentials.
“This is the largest blacksmith shop in the Beast Market. They specialize in swords, which is why it’s called Ju Geom-dang.”
“Do they have skill? Well, they certainly appear skilled.”
“One of the two most renowned craftsmen in the Beast Market operates this place, so the skill is beyond reproach.”
The rhythm of the hammer strikes was indeed consistent.
You could tell just from listening.
This was a sound that only someone who had devoted themselves entirely to the craft for years.
Could ever produce.
Because of it, a sensation long forgotten awakened within my mind.
An anticipation unseen in the Lower Realm flickered in my eyes.
“Would it be alright if I took a moment to look around?”
“Hmm? Of course.”
I moved slowly before pausing and turned to look at Man Chong.
And asked with a skeptical expression.
“Don’t tell me you’re a regular here too?”
Man Chong beamed at this talented junior who recognized him.
“Ha! The successor there is an old friend of mine. He used to boast about making swords from magnetite back in the day, and would you believe it—that guy was already…at twelve years old.”
…
Now I understood why the Purple Cloud Sect had assigned Man Chong to me.
At first, I thought he was merely a supervisor.
But this man truly was well-connected throughout the Beast Market.
I let out a silent laugh and turned my gaze back to the blacksmith shop.
And so I recalled memories of the sword—something I had long forgotten.

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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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