260 - Murim Login

### Episode 260 “Cheong Sohyeop. Cheong Sohyeop, please wake up.” *Slap! Slap!* "Uuuh." Cheongpung awoke with a groan. Someone was slapping his cheek vigorously. It was his first time being slapped, and it felt oddly intriguing, though strangely uncomfortable. 'Ah, so this is why people dislike being slapped.' With this minor revelation, Cheongpung opened his mouth. "Excuse me—" *Slap! Slap!* "I'm awake n—" *Slap! Slap!* “I’m awake…” *Slap!* The hand finally stopped after one last determined slap. The young man with the familiar face spoke with a hardened expression. “You’re up. Do you happen to remember who I am?” “It’s been a while, Warrior Hyeok Mu-jin.” Hyeok Mu-jin let out a sigh. “So you remember.” “Of course. I didn’t expect us to meet like this, though.” In Cheongpung’s mind, Hyeok Mu-jin was remembered as a good person. But it wounded him slightly to see that this good person he hadn’t seen in a year was the one slapping him. “I apologize if I upset you. I suddenly remembered losing money.” “Pardon?” “No, I acted out of urgency without proper decorum.” “Yes, that makes sense.” Nodding, Cheongpung looked around. People were shouting and running about frantically. “Is there a festival?” “……Does it look like a festival?” “It’s not?” “No, it’s not.” Hyeok Mu-jin answered firmly and began to explain the rough situation. The monk Gyeongdo had been found dead, and the suspect was none other than... “Jong Ri-chu?” “Yes. Rising Sword, Jong Ri-chu. That scoundrel. It’s widely believed he’s an assassin sent by the Demonic Cult.” “The Demonic Cult…” A name he had repeatedly heard from his grandfather, the Sword Saint. A place known for being the gathering ground of the most notorious and wicked demons that once drenched the world in blood. But the fact that Jong Ri-chu was an assassin from the Demonic Cult? Cheongpung instinctively shook his head. “No, that’s not right.” “What do you mean…” Hyeok Mu-jin continued, bewilderment coloring his face. “Even after being attacked, you don’t remember? It seems the shock was too much for you to recall, but you nearly died by his hand.” No. Cheongpung remembered everything vividly. The helplessness felt against an unmatched opponent, the fear, and even in the final moment, the thought of facing death for the first time. 'It was terrifying. Truly terrifying.' Even thinking about it made his hair stand on end, and his palms turn clammy. But why was it then that the face of Jong Ri-chu, who had smiled brightly when he'd asked to be friends, kept appearing before his eyes? Eventually, Cheongpung’s lips, which had been firmly pressed together, opened. "He’s my friend.” “…What?” “That person, he’s my friend. There’s no way he could have done it.” “Cheong Sohyeop!” Startled, Hyeok Mu-jin frantically checked their surroundings. Once he confirmed that no one was paying attention to them, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Are you out of your mind? Jong Ri-chu is already practically a public enemy in the martial world. To call such a person a friend…” An assassin who murdered the abbot of Shaolin and fled. Just having a connection with Jong Ri-chu could bring severe punishment. Even if he were the Sword Saint’s cherished disciple, people would look upon him with disdain. “Never speak of this again. Do you understand?” “But…” Cheongpung tried to argue, but Hyeok Mu-jin’s intense gaze silenced him. “He's a demon. I don't know what cunning scheme he used to win your favor, but it was likely a guise to assassinate Master Gyeongdo.” “Are you sure? Did anyone see him kill?” “All evidence is conclusive. A squad has already been organized to capture him, and thousands of heroes have gathered to aid Shaolin and have completed preparations to depart.” “Shaolin…” “Due to the Demonic Cult's sinister plot, Shaolin is in peril. Master Jeok and General Jo have already left ahead.” Cheongpung closed his eyes steadily. In his mind's darkness, the faces of Jin Taekyung and Jong Ri-chu alternately passed by. The deliberation didn’t last long. “I’ll go ahead.” “Pardon?” By the time Hyeok Mu-jin asked in a daze, Cheongpung’s figure had already darted out into the distance. His feet were heading towards Song Mountain. * * * Song Mountain is renowned for its picturesque and serene landscapes, one of the Five Great Mountains. Yet this place, which should be green and beautiful, was stained with blood and screams. “Ahhh!” “Kill every last one of them.” *Slash! Splash!* With each flash of the sword, blood fountains burst forth in all directions. On a peaceful afternoon, hundreds of masked men materialized out of nowhere and continued their slaughter with cold, emotionless eyes. “Protect the pilgrims! Do not retreat!” The monks of Shaolin, with the contract mark etched on their foreheads, blocked their path, but the situation did not easily improve. Facing a horde of skilled masked fighters was daunting enough. On top of that, they had to protect the defenseless students, young novices, and countless pilgrims. “Wh-what on earth!” “Aaaaagh!” No one had anticipated today’s events. Who would dare to invade the very heart of the martial world, and that too within the precincts of the illustrious Shaolin Temple? Just as the monks were getting pushed back mercilessly by the brutal and underhanded masked men, a voice roared like thunder. “Do you even know where you are, you scoundrels?” The owner of the voice was an elderly monk of small stature who appeared suddenly. The old monk, glaring at the masked men staining the Shaolin Temple’s grounds, had eyes that burned with a fearsome fury. “Demon Gang! So, it’s those fiends from Tianshan!” The energy burst from the old monk’s hand swept across the front. *Bang!* The masked men, who had been surging forward, belatedly realizing the presence of the old monk, were caught in the wave of energy and perished. In mere moments, dozens were obliterated—a display of overwhelming power. Yet... “The Celestial Lord has commanded. Slay the enemy.” “Follow the divine command. Kill them all.” The hundreds of masked men did not halt. There was no disturbance or hesitation among them. As if possessed by spirits, they murmured and continued to brandish their swords. ### Slash, Slash, Slash! The elderly man's face hardened at the grisly scene before him. 'This is dreadful…' The masked figures continued their slaughter without flinching, even as their limbs were severed, and their insides spilled out. Watching them fall lifelessly like puppets with their strings cut, while feeling no pain or fear, chilled him to the bone. 'These are no humans. They’re demons incarnate.' If a seasoned monk who had braved the Great Demon War felt such, how must the others feel? Though a few middle-aged monks were managing to fight back, the young monks, witnessing such horrors for the first time, trembled with fear. Yet their determination not to yield came from the duty that Buddhist disciples bore when faced with evils. 'Who could have expected such a day to come.' The old monk lamented inwardly. In the previous Great Demon War, Shaolin had stood at the forefront and shed the most blood to save the martial world. Although it was a noble sacrifice that preserved peace, Shaolin suffered great loss of elders and martial skills. And now, the sacrifices of those times had returned as today’s tragedy. 'Just when the Abbot is away from the temple!' There was no choice. The only one capable of protecting Shaolin right now was himself. The elder monk, Gwangcheon, gritted his teeth and unleashed a lion’s roar. “This is Shaolin!” Despite being overshadowed by the name of Gyeongdo, he too had reached the pinnacle of mastery. Not widely known, his relentless dedication to martial arts had raised his skills above Gyeongdo's. “Come at me, all of you!” Boom! At the moment his powerful Buddhist force swept across the field, two voices pierced his ears. “Oh, Hundred-Step Divine Fist?” “That damned martial art again.” Two figures entered Gwangcheon's view as they leisurely walked towards the temple, causing the masked men to orderly retreat and lay down their swords. “Are you two behind this?” Gwangcheon spat out his words as if chewing them, to which the red-bearded old man replied while picking his nose. “Indeed, it is I.” “Ah, the infamous devilry of Tianshan.” “Devilry of Tianshan, huh. Half true, half false, but I’ll let it slide.” Gwangcheon hesitated. “You mean it's not the Demonic Cult…?” “What does it matter? All you need to know is that we are the ones here to wring your shiny bald head.” The old man, who resembled a great scholar, replied with a gentle smile. “Yeomho, so you’re taking charge?” “Of course. Now that I’ve seen the Hundred-Step Divine Fist, I can’t just overlook it.” “I told you to curb your temper.” “I’ll ponder it later. For now, I’m more intent on killing this monk.” Gwangcheon, his eyes wide open, alternated his gaze between the two old men. The name Yeomho and the overwhelmingly powerful aura emanating from these contrasting figures left no doubt. “Are you…?” Yeomho let out a fierce laugh and nodded. “Judging from how long it took you to recognize us, you’re still a young monk. Those with the 'Beom' lineage have long perished… Are you that youngest disciple of the Dharma King?” "...!" “Going by your reaction, I suppose I’m right. Hansu, what was the name of the old monk you killed last time?” “Beomgong.” As Gwangcheon heard the Dharma name of the senior who perished during the Great Demon War, his fists trembled. ‘It has to be them.’ How could he not recognize the infamy of Yeomho, Hansu, and those who slaughtered countless Shaolin disciples? “The Yin-Yang Twin Horrors.” It was a tale from the distant past. Two demons who separately ruled the southern rainforests and the northern snowy mountains emerged into the martial world, drenching it in blood. The effort to capture them was torn apart by the Demonic Cult's invasion. Barely escaping death, the two demons entered the Demonic Cult's ranks and wreaked havoc during the Great Demon War. “The Yin-Yang Twin Horrors… Hearing it from another’s lips brings back memories.” “Those were glorious times. Rarely have I had such enjoyment.” Yeomho fondly remembered the dreadful past with a chuckle but then shook his head. “No, no. I like the present better.” “Indeed. We couldn’t reach Henan back then.” “Because of that damn Wushin.” “But Wushin is no more.” “Neither are the Ten Kings nor the Three Sages.” Watching Yeomho’s gleaming eyes, Hansu, with a smile, suddenly bowed toward Gwangcheon. “Oh, I almost forgot. Please accept my deepest condolences.” Gwangcheon, who had felt the foreboding from the presence of the two old monsters, asked, his heart heavy with dread. “Condolences? What do you mean?” “I heard on the way up, someone was killed. Your elder brother, the Dharma King Gyeongdo.” "...!" The world seemed to collapse around him with an overwhelming shock. The thought of his senior, who should be at the Murim Alliance, being dead was inconceivable. “Nonsense!” Watching the turbulent Gwangcheon, Hansu smirked. “Whether you believe it or not is up to you. And…” Yeomho’s intense voice followed. “Every monk here will die along with you. That’s our judgment.” In response to the leaders' commanding aura, the masked men advanced a step forward with their vacant stares. The chilling energy from hundreds of sword edges filled Shaolin. Gwangcheon’s eyes fluttered as he witnessed this sight. ‘Senior… is it true?’ But his distress soon subsided, and light returned to his eyes. A monk who had dedicated eighty years to martial arts, he clenched his fists. “Never thought I'd face both of the Yin-Yang Twin Horrors at once. Come then, you wretched old fiends.” “Hahaha! This fellow, for a monk, he’s got quite the sharp tongue. His vigor is refreshing.” Yeomho laughed uproariously and stepped forward. “Unfortunately, one seasoned soul like me is all you'll need. Hansu, our friend here has other pressing matters.” “Very pressing indeed.” With an amused grin, Hansu continued. “Now, would you mind stepping aside? We have a visit to make to the Contemplation Cave.” Contemplation Cave. The mention of that place made Gwangcheon feel as though his heart dropped. Within lies Mumin, the lone disciple of his senior. And… ‘The Jade Palm Buddha.’ Finally realizing the true objective of the enemies, Gwangcheon unleashed a lion’s roar. “Stop them at all costs!” “Stop us? That won’t be enough.” The Yin-Yang Twin Horrors smiled broadly, raising their hands. Like a ghost of fifty years past, a dreadful, murderous aura erupted from their entire beings. “Kill them all.” *Shriiiiiing!*