Murim Login - Chapter 468

Rumble, boom!

It was a storm unlike anything anyone had ever experienced.

Every time thunder echoed alongside a roaring clap of lightning, the downpour grew fiercer, and the river writhed like a raging serpent.

And amidst all of it, a single boat was fighting its way forward.

“To port!”

At Mu Song’s shout from the stern—where he stood like a rock amidst the tempest—the crew of the Water Dragon Stronghold gritted their teeth and obeyed.
“Grrr!”

“Keep rowing! Put your backs into it and row harder!”

“Anyone who falters now, prepare for consequences later! What was it called again? Right! The ‘taste test’ punishment!”

“Aaagh!”

These men were all seasoned seafarers with hardened spines. Yet, even with Mu Song’s expert leadership and the crew’s desperate efforts to muster every ounce of strength, the ship could go no further.

Boom! Crash!

The wind, relentless and howling, ripped apart the sails, which flapped wildly like a broken banner. Rocks of all sizes, hurled by the storm’s fury, struck the deck.

Mu Song’s eyes widened in shock as he took in the unbelievable scene before him.

‘What is this madness?’

He wasn’t just a warrior; he was also a sailor—first and foremost, in fact. His master, the Sea King, had taught him more than martial arts.

In fact, mastering the art of navigation, weather forecasting, and reading the waterways had been the very first lessons he’d learned under the Sea King.

As a boy enamored with the Yangtze River, Mu Song had grown to become a captain that even veteran sailors respected. Even his cold, unfeeling master had once said:

“It’s a pity. If your determination and martial talent were half as good as your sailing skills, you’d have replaced your senior disciple as my heir.”

There could only be one ruler of the Yangtze River Waterway League. The Sea King had chosen his senior disciple as his successor, sending Mu Song to Sichuan to establish the Water Dragon Stronghold. Before long, Mu Song had risen to prominence, becoming a dominant force along the Sichuan stretch of the Yangtze River at a young age.

Yet even he, who had seen all manner of storms and tempests, had never encountered anything like this.

Not even the Sea King or the retired old sailors, who had spent their entire lives on the water, could have imagined such a scene.

‘When we left the Yangtze tributary, it wasn’t like this. So how…?’

The reason was simple: a dramatic, almost incomprehensible change in the weather.

Their current location was none other than Dongting Lake.

Summoned by Zhuge Pung, Mu Song had gathered his best men and crossed the Tianling Rapids, heading directly to Dongting Lake after tracking Jin Taekyung’s whereabouts.

But upon arriving, they encountered a storm that seemed more fitting for the open sea.

‘Is this even possible? And in Dongting Lake, no less?’

The climate of Hubei Province is generally mild, with consistent rainfall. While the Yangtze River occasionally floods, it is rarely severe and instead helps to enrich the fertile granaries of the region.

Dongting Lake, though one of the largest in the land, is still just a lake. No matter how bad the weather, its waters are gentler than the Yangtze’s currents, let alone the chaotic whirlpools of the open sea.

That’s what Mu Song had believed—until just two hours ago.

‘When we first set sail, it wasn’t like this.’

He hadn’t been particularly worried. Dongting Lake wasn’t connected to the sea routes of the Yangtze River, so they had rented a small merchant vessel to navigate toward the location where Jin Taekyung’s group had been reported.

Or at least, they had tried to.

But as they approached their destination, the weather steadily worsened, reaching catastrophic levels.

It was as if crossing some invisible boundary had triggered a series of bizarre phenomena unlike anything seen in a lake.

Whooosh!

A chilling wind howled as a waterspout rose up, towering high into the sky.

The massive whirlwind blocked the narrow passage ahead, bearing down on the merchant vessel.

Mu Song clenched his teeth and let out a low groan.

“This is absolute madness…”

If the ship got caught in the waterspout, it would be the end. Even if they managed to avoid it, the fragile merchant vessel wouldn’t hold out for long.

Caught between concern for his men’s safety and his burning desire for revenge against Dark Heaven—the one who had killed his uncle, Mu Song finally opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry, but it seems this is as far as we can go.”

A calm, elderly voice responded.

“You’ve done enough.”

And in the next moment—

Swoosh!

Behind Mu Song, a small figure, steady as a rock despite the swaying deck, leapt onto the mast.

Through the howling wind and pounding rain, the figure surged toward the waterspout, clenching a fist.

Hummm.

The air seemed to hold its breath as the rain and wind stopped in its tracks, unable to touch the fist.

At the tip of that fist, a blazing inferno ignited, ready to consume everything.

“Begone.”

With a voice like molten lava, Jeok Cheon-Gang, the Fire King, unleashed his punch.

‘Flame Extinguishing Divine Fist.’

In the next instant, Mu Song and his crew saw it clearly.

The fire from Jeok Cheon-Gang’s fist transformed into a flaming dragon, tearing through the waterspout’s core.

The swirling waters collapsed under the overwhelming force of the scorching heat, evaporating into mist. The waterspout, once a formidable force threatening the ship, dissolved into a thick cloud of steam that enveloped the surroundings.

And then—

Boom!

A shockwave dispersed the mist.

Standing tall in midair, Jeok Cheon-Gang looked down at the merchant vessel. His voice, deeper and heavier than usual, carried over the silent lake.

“What are you waiting for? Hurry and follow me.”

Those words were not directed at Mu Song or his subordinates. Their roles had already been determined, and they had fulfilled them admirably.

The battlefield that was about to unfold… was a place reserved only for true masters.

As everyone’s gaze turned to him, one figure stepped forward.

“To cross the Yangtze River on a single reed— even the great Bodhidharma of Shaolin needed a reed leaf to traverse it. You’d best save your strength and come down now.”

His voice was utterly devoid of emotion, dry and monotonous.

The warm and compassionate young medic who had cared for the sick just days ago was nowhere to be found.

As Mu Song and his subordinates hesitated and moved aside, Moon Kyung clicked his tongue internally.

“East Peak… You truly got what you wanted in the end, didn’t you?”

For forty years, Moon Kyung had lived as a medic.

With hands that had taken over a thousand lives, he had treated and cared for countless patients.

He had vanquished epidemics instead of demons and earned the hollow title of a “divine doctor,” yet he never sought wealth or fame.

It had been nothing but atonement—a vow he made to himself.

But now, the inner tower he had painstakingly built over decades as a medic had collapsed.

No, perhaps it had begun crumbling the day he boarded the swift ship leaving Sichuan.

“This, too, is the path I chose. Who can I blame but myself?”

Suppressing a bitter smile, he stepped forward. Behind him emerged a middle-aged man in disheveled scholar’s robes.

“This junior will accompany you, esteemed seniors.”

The current head of the Zhuge Family, the Reclining Dragon, Zhuge Pung, spoke with a respectful tone, to which Moon Kyung replied dryly.

“Of course, you will. Why else would I drag a burden like you here?”

“You have a knack for making people feel small, senior.”

Moon Kyung frowned slightly, showing no intention of entertaining Zhuge Pung’s chatter, who was, in comparison to him, little more than a child.

“Enough nonsense. Climb on.”

“You underestimate me, senior. While my enlightenment may not rival that of the other family heads, my strength at least—”

“There’s a reason you were brought here. If martial arts were the priority, I’d have brought Hyun Gong from Wudang instead. But someone had to stay behind, didn’t they?”

Hyun Gong was a master of Nine Great Sects rank, respected across the martial world. Hearing Moon Kyung refer to such a venerable figure as “that kid” startled Mu Song and his subordinates, who couldn’t pinpoint the true extent of Moon Kyung’s abilities beyond his youthful appearance.

“H-He’s… who is he?”

None dared voice the question, but Moon Kyung had no intention of answering.

He extended his hand, and Zhuge Pung’s body floated effortlessly toward him, drawn by Spatial Manipulation.

With Zhuge Pung securely in tow, Moon Kyung lightly stepped onto the deck and leaped into the air.

Whoosh!

The stealth and precision of his footwork were unparalleled.

No one left on the ship could recognize the supreme Phantom Ghost Steps technique he was employing.

With his subordinates staring in awe behind him, Moon Kyung’s figure darted through the space ahead.

“Is this the right direction?”

As they dashed across the water at breakneck speed, Jeok Cheon-Gang asked without turning his head.

Swaying slightly as he hung in Moon Kyung’s grasp, Zhuge Pung answered, “According to what the Jin Taekyung who told us, we simply need to keep heading straight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. However…”

“However?”

Zhuge Pung hesitated before continuing.

“It’s still uncertain whether Jin Taekyung is there.”

“He is. Without a doubt.”

Jeok Cheon-Gang shook his head firmly, his tone nearly certain.

“This weather… it’s no coincidence. Something unknown is here, and it’s clear Taekyung is its target.”

“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. First, we need to identify what ‘it’ is,” Moon Kyung interjected.

Jeok Cheon-Gang subconsciously reached into his robes.

His fingers brushed against something as sharp as a blade and as sturdy as armor.

When Moon Kyung had first brought this object and presented it to them, both Jeok Cheon-Gang and Zhuge Pung had been in disbelief.

“What is this? What on earth is happening here?”

The unease swelling in Jeok Cheon-Gang’s chest grew alongside their speed as they darted across the river using Leaf on Water Technique.

Suddenly—

Boom!

A thunderous roar tore through the mist and torrential rain ahead, causing all three to snap their eyes wide open.

“This…”

It wasn’t thunder from the heavens.

The dark skies above them were calm, and the deafening sound had clearly come from hundreds of meters ahead.

“You bastards!”

With a resonant roar, Jeok Cheon-Gang’s figure shot forward, splitting the water around him. Moon Kyung, still clutching Zhuge Pung, followed closely behind.

But moments later, all three abruptly halted.

An overwhelming shock struck them silent.

There was no need to move closer to confirm its identity.

At last, the figure revealed itself in the distance. The three stood frozen, speechless.

* * *

Boom!

A cliff collapsed with a deafening crash.

Massive boulders, seemingly part of the cliff for centuries, rained down like a deluge, sending towering sprays of water into the air.

But none of that mattered.

I stared with trembling eyes at the figure rising amidst the chaos.

No, more precisely, I focused on the system window hovering above its head.

[Lv. ??? Mutated Divine Water Dragon]