255 - Murim Login

Chapter 255 Crash! Jeok Cheon-Gang shot up from his seat with such force that he didn't even notice his chair toppling over. All his senses were focused on one person—Jong-Ri Chu. "This is..." It was an instant, barely more than a blink, but he felt it for sure. The qi wave emanating from Jong-Ri Chu. It was powerful enough to make one's eyes widen in astonishment. "Returning to Simplicity... He was hiding his power." Bub Wang Gwang-Doh muttered in a voice filled with awe and disbelief. Returning to Simplicity. A state where one appears completely ordinary despite possessing martial prowess. The bulging nodes of energy become unnoticeable, and even one's presence can be completely masked. To achieve such a state, one must step beyond the pinnacle into a realm beyond. The transcendent domain granted only to legendary warriors. "That young man is a supreme master? Are you all out of your minds? That's inconceivable." Pak Ryeok Do Wang's incredulous words were met with shakes of the head from Gwang-Doh and Jeok Cheon-Gang. "Amitabha. Then, Pang, how do you intend to explain this situation?" "He's reached the level of Returning to Simplicity. Even deceiving our eyes perfectly." The elite who'd been listening to the conversation dropped their jaws in shock. Until now, Jong-Ri Chu had barely scraped through each preliminary round. So much so that he was mockingly called 'Endurance Sword,' implying he survived by luck alone. But that was no longer true. The brief surge of power felt from that seemingly fortunate young warrior was chilling—even the masters of the Nine Great Sects and the Five Great Families felt a shiver down their spines. "What in the world..." Pak Ryeok Do Wang found himself at a loss for words. Though he was likewise a supreme master and one of the Ten Kings, he struggled to accept what his heart already acknowledged alongside Jeok Cheon-Gang and Gwang-Doh. "How could someone not yet in their thirties become a supreme master?" Just when Pak Ryeok Do Wang's musing reached its peak, a quiet observer unexpectedly spoke up. "It’s possible." "What?" Heads turned towards a single direction in unison. Facing their inquisitive gaze, Cheon-Myeon Ginseng So Ho explained briefly. "If it's the Return to Youth." "...!" Ignoring the growing murmur of shock that spread through the audience, So Ho leaned back against his chair, fixing his gaze on Jong-Ri Chu with eyes simmering with curiosity. "Who are you?" The question in his mind grew in intensity, matching the forgotten pain from decades ago. He now understood that this was not simply coincidence. There was an undeniable connection between the day he lost his leg and Jong-Ri Chu. "Reveal who you truly are." At that moment, the judge's flag shot up energetically into the sky. * * * Swoosh! A red line swung without hesitation. Standing rooted in place with a blink of an eye, Cheong-Pung belatedly twisted his body. But Jong-Ri Chu's strike was quicker than he imagined. Slash! A searing pain spread from his chest as though it had been scorched. Crimson droplets welled up from the long cut across his front. The sharp scent of blood filled the air. "...Ah." Staggering back in disbelief, Cheong-Pung stared at Jong-Ri Chu. The man he had considered a friend—no, his first-ever friend—was now watching him with a detached gaze, one too overwhelming to fathom. "Regrettably, it was too shallow." As Jong-Ri Chu articulated, the slash was shallow. It barely grazed Cheong-Pung's skin, leaving no significant injury. Yet, the wound Cheong-Pung sustained was not limited to his flesh. "Jong-Ri Chu." His first friend in the world of martial arts, or indeed in his entire twenty-two years of life—the one who had reached out first—was now pointing a sword at him. He had struck without hesitation, slicing the chest of someone he only recently met. "Why...?" "I don't understand what you mean." Jong-Ri Chu nonchalantly wiped the blood from his sword. "This is the martial world, is it not? You didn’t expect to fully trust a mere acquaintance after exchanging just a few words, did you?" "...!" "From your expression, it seems you did. Goodness, how have you survived with such naivety? As I heard, you are a student of the Huashan Sect." Casting a glance at the Huashan Sect's leader amid the supremacy, Jong-Ri Chu clicked his tongue. "The sect leader taught his disciple poorly. Absolutely pitiful." At those words, Cheong-Pung's tightly sealed lips parted. Unlike before, his voice had shifted to formal speech, and it sank to a low rumble. "My master is my grandfather. Not he." "Really? Whoever it is must be a senile old man. What's his old nickname?" "Sword Saint." "Sword Saint Mae Jong-Hak?" Nodding, Cheong-Pung sparked gasps of disbelief in the audience once more. No one here was unaware of the Sword Saint's legendary name. His name had ascended into living mythology long ago. But now, the disciple of the Sword Saint, who had vanished with the changing tides, appeared before them. And in this very place! Many widened their eyes in shock, yet one person, Jong-Ri Chu, remained unchanged. "A disciple of the Sword Saint, huh..." Jong-Ri Chu rubbed his chin as he habitually flicked a smile. "Then the Sword Saint isn’t much either." "...!" "No matter how strong a child is, they're still a child. You shouldn’t leave such a child near a river, lest they be swept away in the blink of an eye." Cheong-Pung recalled his grandfather's oft-repeated words. 'Always remember—the world is vast, and there are many strong. Your skills are not yet complete, so beware of the sly-hearted.' At the time, those words didn’t resonate with him, as Huashan was peaceful, and time with Mae Jong-Hak was enjoyable. But an ever-growing curiosity about the outside world eventually spurred him to slip away, unbeknownst to his grandfather. Then... 'Ah, so this is what he meant.' Only now did he begin to grasp their meaning. However, coming to this understanding only after bleeding from his first friend's sword was a bitter pill to swallow. 'Grandfather.' Cheong-Pung tightened his grip on his sword, his mind cleared and the lingering scent of blood faded. Srrrng. With a chilling sound that made one's hair stand on end, a pristine sword blade emerged into view. Simultaneously, the internal power that had been coiled up within him expanded like a cloud, enveloping and spreading throughout his meridians. *Tzzt Tzzt Tzzt!* The distinctive purple aura of the Jahwa Divine Art began to radiate from Cheong-Pung's entire being, while his eyes, burning like the setting sun, fixed on Jong-Ri Chu. "You will regret this." "Then let's see..." Jong-Ri Chu rested his sword casually over his shoulder. "Show me what you've got." *Swish!* Cheong-Pung leaned back, narrowly avoiding Jong-Ri Chu’s blade, which lacked killing intent but was tarnished with a deep red rust instead. 'So fast!' Despite having mastered advanced eye techniques under his grandfather's guidance, Jong-Ri Chu's movements were beyond his grasp. The warning bells rang in his mind as a barrage of sword strikes followed like waves. *Swish! Swish swish swish!* The blade, aiming for his chest, altered its course mid-air. What seemed to be a thrust transitioned into a slash, and a sudden palm strike veered toward his shoulder. *Thud!* "Ugh!" Caught off guard, Cheong-Pung took the unexpected palm strike on his shoulder and was sent flying several yards away. It was just as he spun through the air, landing like a spinning top. *Crash!* As he landed, smashing the stage's floor, causing the stone to burst into dust, Cheong-Pung surged toward Jong-Ri Chu once more, faster than he had been thrown back. His sword, now exuding strands of purple sword energy, danced elegantly, blooming into brilliant flowers. *Swoosh!* Thirty-six strokes of the Plum Blossom Sword Art swirled around Jong-Ri Chu from all directions. Surrounded by the violet sword aura, Jong-Ri Chu suddenly curved his lips into a smile, inappropriate for such a dire situation. "This is more than I expected." Even before he finished his sentence, the sword in his hand moved. A brilliant flash and deafening roar erupted, blinding those who watched. *Boom! Ka-boom!* Exploding sword energy scattered fragments into the air. As the dense cloud of dust split, the figure of a person emerged. Cheong-Pung's eyes grew wider than ever as he watched Jong-Ri Chu, casually stifling a few coughs. 'This man... This time he saw it clearly. Jong-Ri Chu had flawlessly deflected every single sword attack. What faced the dozens of deadly sword energies capable of piercing steel was none other than his rusted sword. Bereft of any sword aura, it diverted all the attacks effortlessly, as naturally as though it were letting water flow. 'How is that possible?' Alongside astonishment, Cheong-Pung found himself experiencing a peculiar feeling for the first time. His heart pounded like thunder in his ears, and his grip on the sword wavered. A bead of sweat gathered on his forehead, rolled down over his nose, and fell just at that moment. "Are you scared?" Jong-Ri Chu's steps toward him were leisurely, as if taking a stroll. His deep and piercing gaze made Cheong-Pung's heart skip a beat. He then realized that what Jong-Ri Chu called out was the name of this strange emotion. Fear? It was a sensation he had never felt before—until now, he'd only heard it described past his grandfather’s lips. Now, the alien emotion gripped Cheong-Pung’s body and mind. 'My dear boy, do you know fear?' 'Fear? What's that?’ 'It lies hidden deep within every heart. Not knowing fear is your greatest flaw.' The Sword Saint Mae Jong-Hak deeply cherished his unrelated grandson. He always watched over him with warm eyes and cared for him night and day. Nurtured in good soil, Cheong-Pung grew into a lovely child. 'This is my fault. It was never meant to be like this…' Having grown up surrounded by love, he only knew how to love in return. On the mountain peak he shared with his grandfather, there was no overflow of outside intrigue, greed, jealousy, or anger. Thus, Cheong-Pung grew without ever knowing the terror of human malice, nor feeling the grasp of fear. 'When the time comes, do not let fear consume you. That's all I can tell you.' Words his grandfather had spoken on the eve before Cheong-Pung sneaked away from Yeonhabong. Perhaps his grandfather had foreseen this outcome all along. Yet, face-to-face with a martial expert unlike any he had ever encountered, Cheong-Pung was unconsciously retreating. 'Grandfather, what should I do now?' *Step* Whenever Jong-Ri Chu took a step forward, Cheong-Pung stepped back. Then once more. Step by step, the gap between them didn't close until Jong-Ri Chu lifted his sword after crossing five yards effortlessly. "There's no end to this. I had high expectations being the disciple of the Sword Saint, but is this all there is?" "I-I..." "You must know what losing in the martial world means." *Ssssshh* Moving like a phantom. Paralyzed by fear, Cheong-Pung was unable to react. In what seemed like a slowed-down world, only Jong-Ri Chu moved vividly. The gap, once unbridgeable, disappeared with his single step, and the sword glided toward him. The rusted blade aimed for Cheong-Pung's neck when suddenly— *Whish! Bang!* A terrifying tearing sound and a boom loud enough to deafen followed instantly. Jong-Ri Chu pivoted his sword to block the unforeseen attack and chuckled as he looked at the transparent spear tip. "Turns out, you've got a good friend." "Not a friend—a savior, perhaps. But..." Jin Tae-Gyeong spat on the ground before continuing. "Just who the hell are you?"