176 - Murim Login

Chapter 176 It feels like I've returned to my high school days. It's as if I'm on the run from nighttime self-study, only to be caught by the disciplinary teacher. Except, the sense of despair now is incomparable to back then. Because the person gripping my ear now isn’t a teacher but a Fire King. Crack. "Ow, ow! It hurts! There was a strange sound coming from my ear just now!" Jeok Cheon-Gang glared at me with sharp eyes. "Should I make it so you'll never hear a sound again?" Judging by his past actions, this wouldn't be unexpected of him. I kept my mouth shut and let my feet follow wherever Jeok Cheon-Gang's hand led me. "Sit down." "Yes." I sat down on the shabby wooden chair and took a look around. Inside a worn-out, dim inn, it seemed that the owner was nowhere to be seen, and a servant barely in his twenties was dozing off at a table near the entrance. ‘No customers, just perfect.’ It appears I was unconscious longer than I thought. There were only four people on the first floor. The dozing servant, Jeok Cheon-Gang, myself, and Cheong Pung, who was already so drunk he’d collapsed in a stupor and was snoring. It's an environment perfect for dying without anyone noticing or caring. ‘No, as the saying goes, even if you walk into a tiger's den, you will survive if you keep your wits.’ Still, just in case, it's always wise to think about getting life insurance. However, the only person who could stop Jeok Cheon-Gang was snoring loudly. ‘If only Cheong Pung were awake, I'd have some chance.’ Just as I slyly extended a foot under the table to nudge Cheong Pung awake— "Leave him be." "Sorry?" "I said leave him. Don't meddle with someone who's asleep." He must be some sort of supernatural being. No sound was made, and I hadn’t made any obvious movements, yet he seemed completely aware of what was happening beneath the table. "Response?" "…I'll stay still." "You're not completely clueless. Your life might just be long." Muttering words unclear whether they were praise or insult, Jeok Cheon-Gang emptied a bottle of liquor. As the cup gradually filled, cheap liquor aroma assaulted my nose. "I have something to ask you." "I'll give you a very detailed account of Elder—no, of Little Grandfather." "I already heard. Enough to know he deserves to die. He was a rather clever friend... time seems to leave many in its wake." Jeok Cheon-Gang finished his cup in one go, a bitter expression on his face. "So was that kid." "Where did you meet?" It was an abrupt question, but I understood immediately. The child Jeok Cheon-Gang referred to was Jopil. He already knew that I was associated with Jopil. The worst was becoming reality. "If you're thinking about lying, it's better to stop now. You'll end up telling the truth anyway." Jeok Cheon-Gang's voice descended into a chilling abyss, sending shivers down my spine. Any further lies or evasions were futile. He was both prosecutor and defense attorney, as well as a judge who could deliver any sentence. 'Damn it.' My mouth felt dry and sour. It was hard to believe I wasn't exhaling fire, yet I was so parched I could hardly speak properly. "Could I have a drink please?" "Cheeky brat." Though he said so, Jeok Cheon-Gang obediently filled my cup. After hastily drinking down the liquor, I could finally breathe. All right, it's not over yet. When things are severe, one must keep their wits to escape danger. Taking a deep breath, I began to speak. "It was about two months ago. When I met Jopil." "Jopil?" "Yes, the lone outlaw Jopil. He was quite a notorious wanderer." "Judging by his alias, he wasn't well-known for anything good, was he?" "…That was indeed the case." To say he was problematic was an understatement; he was nearly a madman. Back then, Jopil appeared to me as a lunatic infatuated with murder, nothing more, nothing less. He genuinely seemed to enjoy killing. "Is this the face?" Jeok Cheon-Gang took out a piece of paper. Though crumpled and yellowed with age, the face of a young man drawn on it was unmistakable. "Is this Jopil in his youth?" "I see it is him after all. It turned out like this." His response was more to himself than to my question. After a moment of silence, Jeok Cheon-Gang finally spoke again. "About twenty years ago, in Anhui province, there was a severe plague. Many commoners died, and even more orphans were left behind. He was one of them." The moment had arrived, revealing Jopil's true identity, unknown to anyone else. Depending on what is said next, my future could be decided. Holding my breath, I listened intently to Jeok Cheon-Gang's words. Slowly he continued, memory unfurling with each ripple in his clear liquor. "He was a child fighting to survive, even while being trampled by a dozen others, stuffing his mouth with the crumpled remains of a steamed bun." "I admired his fierce eyes and felt pity at the same time. I named him Jangcheon." Jangcheon lived in a hut deep within Mount Guhwa. It was the first time in fifty years since Jeok Cheon-Gang had parted from his master that an outsider had set foot there. "At first, he knew nothing. A year later, he realized I was a martial artist and desperately pleaded for me to teach him martial arts." To a destitute orphan who had lived among scorn and hunger, a martial artist seemed as remote as the heavens. He wished to become a warrior and change his life; thus, he implored the elder who had saved him. 'Please accept me as your disciple.' 'No.' 'Master!' 'Master, you say? Who is your master? You lack both the physique and talent to learn this art.' 'I will do it. Somehow, I will make it happen. Even if I die trying, I won’t disappoint you!' '…Useless babble.' Jeok Cheon-Gang thought Jangcheon would not last long. However, the boy's passion proved more tenacious than he had imagined. For a whole year, Jangcheon daily tried to persuade him and even resorted to harming himself or going on hunger strikes. Every time Jangcheon vowed to end his own life, Jeok Cheon-Gang found himself in a difficult position. “You foolish boy. Why go to such lengths?” “I want to learn martial arts. Please accept me as your disciple.” “…I cannot.” “Is it because I’m lacking?” “It’s an unavoidable decision for the continuity of the martial sect’s lineage. It will be a tough road for you.” “No matter how hard it is, I can endure it!” “I cannot. If you keep insisting, I’ll have no choice but to send you away from the mountain. Is that what you want?” In truth, it was Jeok Cheon-Gang who did not want to part with him. Old age had left him longing for companionship. Over the past year, he had formed a bond with the taciturn boy marked by many scars. Yet... “Go ahead, do as you must. Life is over for me anyway.” “What did you say?” “If I cannot serve you as my master, I shall end my life. No, why don’t you kill me here and now, with the hand that saved me?” “You, insolent one!” What was martial arts worth, for Jangcheon to be willing to throw away his life for it? Jeok Cheon-Gang felt both sadness and anger at the sight of Jangcheon’s determination. However, a thought crossed his mind. “Even if he lacks talent and physique, with such tenacity, he will certainly achieve greatness one day. That’s what I thought.” Jin Taekyung, listening quietly, asked with a puzzled expression. “Tenacity… Is that why you accepted him as your disciple?” “Yes.” Jeok Cheon-Gang added with a sigh, “It was a mistake.” From his birth until now, it was the most excruciating mistake in his nearly century-long life. “For a few years, everything went smoothly. Contrary to my initial fears, he grew significantly.” Jangcheon dutifully followed his master’s instructions. Rather, it was near total obedience. All day long, he wielded his sword with frenzy, rigorously honing his physical endurance. Even when practicing basic techniques, he executed each move with the dedication as if mastering the world’s greatest skill. Seeing such dedication from his disciple, Jeok Cheon-Gang was deeply moved and he, in turn, did his utmost to support Jangcheon’s growth. Despite possessing merely modest talent, Jangcheon gradually improved his physique and martial abilities under Jeok Cheon-Gang’s guidance through a technique known as ‘Cleansing Marrow and Cutting Hair.’ A master and disciple trusting and relying on each other, achieving great accomplishments. It seemed everything was unfolding seamlessly. “The problem started afterward.” While the old man remained old, the boy became a young man. However, his martial ability did not keep pace with his physical growth. Frustrated by years of stagnation, Jangcheon’s anger finally reached its limit. “I remember that day well. I couldn’t sleep and was sitting on a rock when the boy, who had been missing for days doing closed training, came climbing up from below.” Jin Taekyung tilted his head in curiosity. “Coming up from below? What does that mean?” “It means he visited the village. His scent carried hints of musk used by courtesans.” “Oh. A brothel?” “I understood. For over a decade, he hadn’t ventured outside and focused solely on martial training. As his master, who gained little from external influences and solely devoted himself to perfecting his skills, how could I say anything?” At that time, Jeok Cheon-Gang was immersed in training to open his subriceptal core. Opening the subriceptal core, a mark of martial prowess, meant elevating his martial arts to another level while simultaneously curing the age-related illness slowly eroding him. “But it was not an easy task. It required long preparation, time, and enlightenment.” Thus, encounters between the master and disciple gradually decreased. Jeok Cheon-Gang trusted his ever-diligent disciple to find enlightenment on his own and focused intently on opening his subriceptal core. Only on days when various scents blended in the air did he realize Jangcheon had come down from the mountain. “Then one day, an unexpected visitor arrived.” “A visitor?” “The Sky Sword King. I had never seen the man before, but I recognized him immediately. As rumored.” Jin Taekyung gaped, “The... Sky Sword King, one of the Ten Kings?” “Yes, he was also the Supreme Elder of the Namgung clan.” “Why did he come?” Jeok Cheon-Gang silently drank more sake. Though he’d downed several bottles by now, his mind grew ever sharper. The words from the sudden visit by the Sky Sword King were equally clear. ‘My children are clamoring lately. There’s a ferocious villain causing havoc in Anhui Province, and they say they can’t catch him. So, I came to ask for your help.’ Jeok Cheon-Gang was baffled. The influence of the Namgung Clan in Anhui Province was overwhelmingly powerful. If they were unable to deal with a threat to the extent that the Sky Sword King himself had to step in, just how formidable was this adversary? ‘Then why seek me out? Are you saying this person is a martial god?’ ‘A martial god wouldn’t select only innocent women and hapless ronin as his targets. I saw him from afar once and let him be.’ How could this be… ‘Isn’t a master responsible for correcting a disciple’s misdeeds?’ Soon after the Sky Sword King departed, Jeok Cheon-Gang stood on the rock in disbelief as the slightest scent carried by the wind reached his nose. It was the scent of blood.