172 - Murim Login

Chapter 172 Jeokcheon River wore a triumphant smile. 'Heh heh, feel the heat, you little rascal.' At his fingertips was the scorching energy of the Great Yang, having reached its zenith. Though his power only amounted to three successes, it was beyond the level a mere young fledgling could withstand. 'This should snap him to his senses.' While he had no inclination to bully the young, this one needed a lesson. From earlier, it had been a challenge listening to the nonsensical ramblings about some divine crown thing or other. 'I’ve moderated my strength, so with any luck, he might just avoid serious injury.' With this in mind, Jeokcheon River reached out. As his thin and wrinkled fingers brushed against the youth's broad chest, Jin Taekyung inhaled sharply at the tidal surge of intense yang energy. "Hhhuuupp!" "How does it feel? Like a fire igniting within, right?" Seeing the youth's face flushed red, Jeokcheon couldn't help but chuckle. The age-old truth that a stick is the best remedy seemed to hold. "Now, enough of your nonsense and let's get to the truth—" Swish! Shwick! Jeokcheon's words were cut short. Two swords flew in like lightning, slicing at his waist and hand. "Wha—? It... worked! Young Master Cheong, it’s a success!" Heok Moo-jin expressed his joy with a bewildered look, while Cheongpung scratched the back of his head. In front of him was not a bleeding form, but Jeokcheon's figure vanishing like mist. "Uh-oh, a true return to tradition and shifting form... it seems we’ve stumbled into something quite troublesome." Sitting atop a fence in the distance, Jeokcheon laughed heartily. "You’ve got quite the sharp eyes." "I’ve seen it a lot since I was young." "Seen it?" Jeokcheon was taken aback by the implications of those words. True return to tradition and shifting form were domains granted only to the elite of the elite. This implied that someone of equal caliber to Jeokcheon was in Cheongpung's surrounding. "Who is your master?" "My grandfather, actually." "How would I know who your grandfather is, you imbecile?" "My grandfather always said that a man who hides behind another's name deserves to lose his balls." "Hahaha! Wise words, indeed!" Jeokcheon burst into laughter and gazed intently at Cheongpung. "Do you think you can bear the sin of daring to point a sword at me?" Cheongpung pursed his lips with a troubled expression. "Well, since I didn’t use any sword Qi, could you let it slide?" "Would it have mattered if you had?" "Probably not." Jeokcheon smirked. Whichever dojo he hailed from, this youth was certainly amusing. "Then why did you step in?" Cheongpung pointed to Jin Taekyung, who stood statuesquely, his entire body reddened and emitting steam. "I owe him a debt. Grandfather says not to stand idle when my benefactor is being oppressed." "Must be a significant debt to risk your life for." Cheongpung widened his eyes. "Are you going to kill us?" Of course, Jeokcheon had no intention of killing anyone present. However, he feigned a stern face, lowering his voice. "Naturally." "Uh-oh, that’s problematic. I still have so much left to experience." "This is the martial world. Should I really consider such circumstances?" Cheongpung pondered before opening his mouth. "Probably not." Listening nervously to the exchange, Heok Moo-jin exploded. "Don’t just agree like that, you fool!" "Why?" "Because, that elder, he’s going to kill us!" "Well, he's not wrong... um, plus—" Cheongpung added calmly. "You never know whether you’ll die or survive until you try." "...Damn it. Fine, let’s give it a shot. Staying still would just get us killed by the leader later anyhow." Resting his chin on his hand, Jeokcheon watched the two. Indeed, they were amusing fellows. One risking his life for a debt, and the other complaining while stepping into an obvious outcome—a fight with a determined result. Some would call it recklessness, while others might call it chivalry. Whatever it was, they had it. 'These kinds surely do die early.' It had been the same forty years ago, and it was no different now. Thus, Jeokcheon found a slight fondness for these young ones. At the very least, they had the courage to lay down their lives for others. Just as they were doing now. "Well then, shall I teach you a lesson?" Jeokcheon slowly rose. Simultaneously, an imposing aura emanated from his small frame, suffocating the surroundings. Cheongpung and Heok Moo-jin gripped their swords, while Jang Tae-boo's face drained of color as he slumped to the ground. "You’d best step aside." With a slight gesture, Jang Tae-boo's body floated over the fence. It was as if an invisible hand had grasped and lifted him. Witnessing this, Cheongpung murmured. "Telekinesis..." He had lifted a man as large as an average guard with just a flick. It was proof that the old man before him possessed immense power, not unlike his grandfather. Heok Moo-jin also mumbled blankly. "Damn, just like in a novel." The level was on a different plane. In that moment, everything around Jeokcheon River was his weapon and shield. Even the corners of his wrinkled mouth lifted slightly. "Come." That word served as the signal. Cheongpung and Heok Moo-jin charged with all their might. Having sparred countless times, both were familiar with each other's martial skills, precisely coordinating their attacks. Swish! Swoosh! As the two blades threatened to pierce his side and neck, Jeokcheon’s hands extended. His hands, engulfed in white flames, seized the swords. "Will that be enough?" Crrrack. Heok Moo-jin's eyes widened. His beloved sword, forged from the toughest Baekryeon steel, began to bend. And soon after, it melted like molten iron, dripping away. "What in the—!" It had been an attack with all the strength he could muster, yet it had not even scratched the enemy. Witnessing the sword's blade half-melted, he heard Jeokcheon's voice in his ear. "Your courage was commendable. Now rest." In an instant, Heok Moo-jin's vision turned white as he crumpled to his knees, struck in the chest. Cheongpung let out a cry akin to a scream. "Young Master Heok!" "Don't worry. It's likely just a minor internal injury," said Jeokcheon River, glancing at the sword caught in his other hand. Unlike the bent and melted sword, this one was cloaked in a soft, violet sword energy. It triggered a memory long dormant in Jeokcheon River. "Zaha Divine Art... Were you from the Hwasan Sect?" Instead of answering, Cheongpung thrust out a fist. It was the powerful Bokhokwon, a martial art said to subdue tigers, and it impacted Jeokcheon's chest with force. Wham! The sound came as Jeokcheon's white eyebrows arched like crescents. "Oh ho, look at this brat." Despite an attack powerful enough to shatter his chest, that's all the reaction it elicited. Cheongpung felt as if he were facing his grandfather, the Sword Saint, Mae Jonghak. 'He's overwhelmingly strong.' However, he couldn't give up just yet. Taking a deep breath, Cheongpung stepped forward, the energy of the Zaha Divine Art raging stronger through his entire being. "Very well, let’s see you run wild." Jeokcheon River smiled, releasing the grip on the sword. Freed, Cheongpung's sword unleashed a series of Blossom Sword Techniques. Swish! The sword moved elegantly, painting plums in the air. One became two, two became five, five became nine... Finally, twenty-four plum blossoms took form, pouring down on Jeokcheon River like beams of light. Even Jeokcheon was genuinely impressed at this moment. 'A remarkable talent has emerged from the Hwasan Sect.' It also reminded him of someone. A figure synonymous with the Hwasan Sect, revered by all swordsmen across the land! "What relation do you have with Mae Jonghak?" The word "friend" caused the twenty-four plum blossoms to waver precariously. And then, the sword energy narrowly missed Jeokcheon, devastating the surroundings. Boom! As the dust settled, Cheongpung, swallowing a mouthful of it, coughed. "Cough, cough. You know my grandfather, huh? Cough!" Jeokcheon River laughed warmly. "I met him a long time ago." It was no less than forty years ago. The Ten Thousand Demons of the Demonic Cult had swallowed half the world, and as the war turned against them, the orthodox martial world sought out even the hidden recluses in the deep mountains. The Sword Saint, Mae Jonghak, had visited Guwhasan during those times. 'Help us.' That was his first plea. Although surprised by the visit from a formidable equal, Jeokcheon River already had his answer. ‘No.’ 'Even though the world is endangered?' 'Speak correctly, it's the orthodox martial arts world in danger, not the whole world.' The world wouldn’t change just because the masters of martial arts shifted. There were villains in the orthodox sects, and good men in the Demonic Cult. Jeokcheon River intended to stay at Guwhasan forever. After pondering for some time, Mae Jonghak had clapped his forehead. 'Well, thinking about it, you're right.' 'Aren’t you here to persuade me?' 'That's that, and this is this, isn’t it?' 'What on earth... Stop talking nonsense and leave.' 'Then let's do this. Let's follow the rules of the martial world.' 'The strong will lead?' 'If I lose, I'll leave quietly. And I'll keep your existence a secret forever. But...' 'If you win, then I must assist the orthodox martial world, right?' 'Exactly. So, what do you say?' 'Draw your sword.' For seven days and nights, they battled. It was a duel rooted in the centuries-long legacy of Hwasan and the individual principle of unyielding lineage, a fight to the death between two martial gods. The result was a draw, with no winner or loser. 'It's a shame. With such skill, why are you stuck in these mountains?' 'Why do you care? It's my affair.' 'Hmm. Thinking about it, you’re right.' '...Listening to you is exhausting. What now?' 'Honestly, I want to continue, but... demons already crossed Gansu and Sichuan a fortnight ago. Unfortunately, we'll have to stop here.' For Jeokcheon River, it was a relief. Had they fought a few more days, defeat would have been inevitable. Despite Mae Jonghak being ten years younger, he was already a formidable warrior. Without considerable martial power, he wouldn't have lasted. 'They may come to Anhui soon. Be careful.' 'No problem. I'll just defend Guwhasan.' 'Hmm, yes indeed.' '...Please just leave.' Sword Saint Mae Jonghak departed, and soon the demonic forces surged forth, crossing Anhui. Two weeks later, the Demonic Cultists passing by Guwhasan made a grave error. 'Set it ablaze!' As Guwhasan burned, Jeokcheon River emerged to the world. Of the thousands of demons, not a single one survived. People began to refer to him by a new name. "So my grandfather..." The Fire King, Jeokcheon River, smiled faintly in response instead of answering.