Murim Login - Chapter 350
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I will re-publish the earlier chapters to fix those issues with the translation. I apologize in advance if it did not meet your standard. Please comment the chapters you find that is lacking in quality so I can fix them ASAP. Thanks for understanding!
Current re-published chapters (270 - 305)
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*Thud. Thud.*
Today, I once again carried the slop bucket as I moved. Time in the underground prison crawled slowly, yet steadily, like the Defense Ministry clock. The routine of my sixth day here was becoming increasingly familiar. [1]
*Clank. Squeak.*
I stepped into the cell filled with filth and dirty water, opening the rusty bars. The old man tied to the frame greeted me with a crooked smile.
“You’ve come?”
He was a ruthless killer who joined the Demonic Sect during the Great War and killed over a hundred martial artists from the righteous factions. Now a toothless old man, he spoke with a slurred voice.
“For the last time, let me tell you…”
I interrupted him while scooping the slop with a long ladle.
“You said it was the last time yesterday too.”
“This time it’s really the last.”
“Sure, and tomorrow will be the real, real last time.”
It was something I had encountered numerous times over the past six days. Nothing new. The old man, who flinched at my indifferent attitude, shouted.
“You, become my disciple!”
“You, get hit.”
*Smack!*
The old man writhed in pain as the ladle struck his crown. The chains binding his limbs rattled loudly.
“Argh!”
“Keep it down, it’s noisy.”
“This rascal!”
The old man, about to shout again, suddenly opened his eyes wide and sniffed the air. He smelled the scent of oil that was hidden by the stench of the cell.
“What’s that smell?”
“Nothing you need to know.”
“It’s roasted duck! Is there liquor too?”
“That’s…”
“Lies! This aroma is definitely Jian Nan Chun!” [2]
“Your sense of smell is on par with a drug-sniffing dog.”
“Give it to me! Now!”
*Smack!*
“Aaargh!”
“It’s not for you. Eat your slop.”
I put down the slop bucket and moved towards the last cell. Unlike the others, it was especially deep and dark. A familiar monster awaited me there.
*Clank.*
“I’ve brought your meal.”
“You must be tired of waiting. By the way, why is it so cold here? Your sleeping conditions must be uncomfortable. Should I ask the Tang family to provide a leather blanket?”
As expected, he remained silent. Ever since that incident three days ago, Cheonryeokma had closed his eyes and mouth. Of course, I wouldn’t give up just because he was acting this way.
“Come on, don’t be like that. Try this.”
I pulled out an oil-stained paper. A perfectly roasted duck, seasoned with various spices, appeared temptingly. The mouth-watering aroma filled the cell, driving away the stench.
“This is roasted duck made by a former royal chef. The duck is tender and tastes quite stable.”
“And with roasted duck, there must be liquor. Jian Nan Chun, a famous liquor from Sichuan! Liquor and meat are perfect for a hero like Cheonryeokma. Don’t you agree?”
In the frigid cell, Cheonryeokma, who sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, remained silent. Despite my best efforts to appease him over the past three days, he rejected every proposal and convenience I offered, refusing to touch the food and clothes I brought.
“I think I’ve done enough. Are you really going to keep this up?”
“If the Tang family finds out, what do you think will happen?”
At that moment, Cheonryeokma, who had been sitting quietly with his eyes closed, spoke. His voice was hoarse, the first time I’d heard it in three days.
“Do as you wish.”
“What?”
“I’ve endured enough torture. Even if I leave this world, I have no regrets.”
Locked in the underground prison for forty years, Cheonryeokma spoke with the calmness of a monk who had achieved enlightenment. I clicked my tongue.
“You’re really difficult to communicate with. Is it so hard to just tell me what you know about Amcheon?”
“I’ve said everything I needed to. Whether you kill or torture me, do as you please.”
“What kind of old man are you…”
But Cheonryeokma’s lips were already tightly sealed. They probably wouldn’t open again.
“Stubborn old man.”
Sighing deeply, I placed the liquor and roasted duck within his reach and turned away.
“Alright, at least eat something. You haven’t eaten in three days.”
I knew that the food I left would remain untouched and cold even if I returned tomorrow, the day after, or three days later.
“Damn it.”
After finishing my meal distribution with Cheonryeokma, I collapsed in a corridor far from the cells.
‘Cheonryeokma.’
His face, hardened and unyielding, lingered before my eyes. It was evident that the name Amcheon had caused him great turmoil.
‘But it’s clear he knew about Amcheon for a long time.’
Though I didn’t hear it directly from his mouth, it was almost a given. The issue was how much he knew about Amcheon and its connection to the Demonic Sect.
Three days ago, I carefully revisited my conversation with Cheonryeokma. The most likely conclusion I could draw with my subpar intellect was:
‘Amcheon and the Demonic Sect are deeply connected.’
Perhaps they were even one and the same. Cheonryeokma’s silence, despite forty years of imprisonment and torture, indicated his unwavering loyalty to the sect.
‘If Amcheon were the enemy, he would have spoken out long ago.’
So, what exactly is Amcheon? A splinter faction from the Demonic Sect? Or another organization created within the sect?
‘Like a new branch of the cult, perhaps.’
One thing was certain: they were pests. As I pondered deeply, Cheongpung appeared, the sweet smell preceding him.
“Hey!”
“…Your grandpa lives in Hwasan, Yeonhwa Peak.”
Cheongpung swallowed what was in his mouth and responded.
“No, he’s in Hanam now!”
“Oh, right.”
What can I even say to you?
Looking at the mountain of food Cheongpung was carrying, I was speechless. I almost felt sorry for the former royal chef I’d never met.
“Is this what you went out for?”
“Yes! And I brought a letter from the Beggars’ Sect.”
“…Isn’t it usually the other way around?”
“Hehe.”
“Don’t laugh, it’s irritating.”
I took the letter Cheongpung handed me. Unfolding the dirt-stained paper, three yellow dog hairs fell out.
‘Sent by a branch leader of the Beggars’ Sect.’
As expected, the letter was from a branch leader of the Beggars’ Sect addressed to Gunggi-bang. Since Gunggi-bang was located in the Sacred Hidden Place, they must have sent it to me instead.
After reading the letter, Cheongpung asked.
“What does it say?”
“Not much. They’re still searching.”
The Beggars’ Sect, initially searching Sichuan to find Shinyi, had changed its focus. Their new target was the criminal who murdered the Poison King and Gyeongcheonshinni.
‘As expected, he wouldn’t be caught so easily.’
Even the Tang Master, who vowed to resolve it with the Tang Clan’s power alone, changed his stance after borrowing the Mandokji-hwan. Despite the Tang Clan’s active cooperation, the criminal’s trail vanished like a ghost.
“Will they be able to find him?”
“Well, let’s hope for good results. The Beggars’ Sect is not the only one involved; with the Tang Clan’s spies and assassins, they should uncover something.”
“What about the government forces?”
“They seem to be doing their part. The prestige of Prince Jusang is considerable.”
Sichuan Governor Won Gyun accepted my request to find the criminal instead of Shinyi. The government forces might not match martial artists in individual prowess, but their sheer numbers, reaching thousands, couldn’t be ignored.
“Wow, thousands?”
“I don’t know the exact number, but there are a lot. Didn’t you see the government forces when you returned to the Tang Clan?”
“Well, there weren’t that many at the time.”
“Of course not. They wouldn’t all move together.”
It wasn’t hard to imagine the government forces conducting inspections in groups. The letter stated that they were expanding their search area, moving from Qingcheng and Emei, to be ready for any situation.
‘They’re doing better than expected.’
Sichuan Governor Heo Gyun. He looked like a corrupt official, but he seemed not entirely incompetent. Either that, or the officer in charge was exceptionally capable.
‘But what if they still can’t find him?’
I was worried because I had boasted to the Tang Master. Of course, ensuring Jeok Cheon-Gang’s recovery took priority.
I glanced at the firmly closed treatment room and casually spoke to Cheongpung.
“What food did you bring?”
“A lot!”
“…Just finish what’s in your mouth. I’ll eat on my own.”
* * *
Jang Il was a disciple of the Beggars’ Sect. He didn’t join by choice but out of necessity. He had heard that becoming an official disciple after the initiation ceremony would grant him a bun.
What would an eight-year-old beggar, who hadn’t eaten for four days, know?
He clutched his starving belly and went to the Chengdu branch, becoming a beggar disciple that day.
“They only gave me half a bun. Thinking about it still makes me grind my teeth. Damn it.”
The beggars listening to Jang Il’s story yawned. They had heard it dozens of times. Even though it was a story from over ten years ago, Jang Il’s anger hadn’t subsided.
“I gnawed on that half-bun, and after much grit and determination, I became the deputy branch leader. So you guys…”
Seeing the story dragging on, the three junior disciples exchanged glances.
“Oh, suddenly my stomach hurts!”
“Me too!”
“Where’s the restroom?”
“Hey, you guys!”
Jang Il shouted, but the three beggars had already run away.
“Damn them… Just wait until they get back.”
It was then that Jang Il saw a group approaching. Their uniforms and weapons were uniform, but their lax demeanor was noticeable. Recognizing them, Jang Il muttered.
“Government forces.”
Lately, they were more common than stray dogs. Usually slackers, they seemed to be putting on a show because higher-ups were involved.
“They said they were expanding the search net, and they’re already here?”
As he thought this, a middle-aged officer, seemingly the leader, approached with a smile.
“Are you from the Beggars’ Sect?”
Jang Il nonchalantly nodded.
“Obviously.”
“Ah, I saw the knot and wondered.”
“You can tell by looking. You move quickly. You’re already here.”
“The Beggars’ Sect is said to be the best in information. I see you already knew?”
“For us, this is normal.”
The officer, smiling at Jang Il’s arrogance, asked.
“But this place is deserted. Why are you alone?”
“Don’t ask. The branch leader was nagging, so I brought a few subordinates for some fresh air. Things have been noisy with the criminal and all. This is too much.”
“I see.”
“Then take care…”
Jang Il’s words were cut off. The moment the officer nodded with a smile, something cold pierced his chest.
*Thud!*
‘…Huh?’ *Cough.*
Looking at the sword embedded in his chest, Jang Il spat blood. Why, why?
The question couldn’t escape his lips. As his vision blurred, he saw the officer’s face as his knees buckled. With his face buried in the grass, he heard a cold voice.
“Find the others. They should be nearby.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Stupid beggar. Why did you have to be here…”
Jang Il’s hearing ended there. The young beggar, aged twenty-five, died in a secluded forest two days away from Emei Sect.
***
Footnotes:
[1] Defense Ministry clock (국방부 시계): This term is a colloquial reference in Korea used to describe something that seems to move very slowly. It originates from the perception of time during mandatory military service, which often feels like it passes extremely slowly due to the strict and monotonous routine.
[2] Jian Nan Chun (검남춘, 劍南春): Jian Nan Chun is a famous brand of Chinese baijiu (a type of strong distilled liquor) from the Sichuan province. Known for its strong aroma and potent flavor, it is often referenced in East Asian literature and culture to denote high-quality liquor.