Murim Login - Chapter 485

‘Thump. Thump.’

The sound of my heartbeat echoed like thunder within my body.
With each step closer to ‘it,’ my heart pounded more violently.

My mouth felt dry and coarse, as if I had chewed on a handful of sand. My wide-open eyes were uncomfortably dry, and I found myself blinking rapidly.

And finally, the moment my hand touched the crevice in the cliff, I confirmed the source of this foreboding sensation.

‘Beep.’

– The gate has lost most of its functions!
– Entry to the gate is not possible!
– [Gate Conquest] quest cannot be created!

The notifications ringing in my ears, the holographic windows filling my vision, and the gazes of the people around me…

Standing before all of it, I let out a slow, deliberate curse.

“…Shit.”

‘Crunch.’

Without realizing it, my hand clenched, digging into the surface of the cliff.

From the crevice—no, the gate—emanated a faint trace of demonic energy, enough to make my vision blur.

‘I had hoped, until the very end, that this wouldn’t be the case.’

But no. It was unmistakably a gate.

How? Why?

For a long time after, these unanswerable questions lingered in my mind.

—

My thoughts were in turmoil. When I had seen it through the [Fragment of Memory], I had my suspicions. But now, faced with the undeniable reality, I was at a loss for words.

‘A gate… in Murim?’

This was a massive fracture, a signal that the laws governing this world were collapsing. The first step toward disaster.

Dark Heaven.

Their true nature was far darker and more profound than I had imagined.

Separated from the others, I stared at the inky waters of Dongting Lake. Picking up a stone from the ground, I tossed it into the water.

‘Plop.’

‘The bloodbath at Shaolin spread to Sichuan, and now, it has reached here.’

The past few months had been a relentless series of carnage.

Amid the festivities of the Grand Festival in Henan, Shaolin—hailed as the beacon of righteous Murim—was attacked, and the flames of Dark Heaven spread to Sichuan.

The troubling part was the inexplicable phenomena that occurred along the way.

‘The Blood Lord, Western Heavenly Demon, and the presence of Dong-jin.’

The memories remained vivid. The sight of the Blood Lord recovering after being struck by Jeok Cheon-Gang’s ‘Fire God Ghost Dance’ still haunted me.

‘No, that wasn’t just recovery.’

The Blood Lord’s ability wasn’t healing—it was regeneration.

Fresh flesh regrew as though reversing time, bones snapped back into place, and everything that had burned to ashes regenerated in an instant.

Watching that unbelievable spectacle, a thought crossed my mind—a disturbingly familiar one.

‘A troll. It was like a troll.’

Or a potion… Damn it. Trolls and potions? It’s crazy to even think about.

What’s worse is the possibility that it might be true.

I picked up another stone and hurled it farther into the lake.

‘Plop.’

The Blood Lord’s bizarre phenomenon wasn’t the end of it. When the Sword Saint arrived and forced him into a corner, he invoked ‘Heavenly Lord’ and vanished without a trace.

At the time, everyone assumed it was one of the Demonic Cult’s bizarre techniques. But now that I had confirmed the existence of the gate, things were different.

‘Teleportation.’

It wasn’t exactly like the teleportation I had experienced through Magic Johnson, but if it wasn’t teleportation, I’d eat my boots.

‘Looking back, Western Heavenly Demon had his own peculiarities too.’

During the Sichuan massacre, Western Heavenly Demon lost an arm while defeating the Poison King.

Yet when we met him in the underground prison of the Sichuan Tang Clan, he had a new arm.

After weighing all possible explanations, only two scenarios made sense:

Either Western Heavenly Demon was some kind of biological experiment, or an unknown power was at work.

Naturally, the first option was out of the question—though I wished it were true.

‘And then there’s Lee Dong-jin.’

The formation that allowed him to move hundreds of Dark Heaven’s black-robed warriors at once.

Dark Heaven, known as the successor to the Demonic Cult—if they had such a thing fifty years ago, they would have used it then.

If they had, the Great Demonic War would have ended in their victory, and instead of the Taewonjin Clan, I might’ve been part of some Black Dragon Sect.

‘Why didn’t I see it?’

Even as an outsider to Murim, I had failed to predict this.

A fleeting doubt had crossed my mind, but it was buried beneath the narrative of ancient demonic techniques and the notion of Western Heavenly Demon’s supernatural abilities.

But now it was different.

I had confirmed the existence of the gate.

And I realized that the laws and common sense of Murim, once so familiar, were crumbling before me.

Moreover, I understood that the strange abilities of Dark Heaven, described as demonic techniques and supernatural powers, could be summarized in two simple words.

‘Magic.’

The word filled my mind, cooling the heat that had been building in my thoughts.

And then, from between my lips, a name escaped—a name referring to an unseen being yet to reveal itself.

“…Heavenly Lord.”

The being who reigns supreme in Dark Heaven.

A presence so overwhelming that the Blood Lord, Western Heavenly Demon, and Southern Demon Empress referred to themselves as mere servants.

‘Who are you, really?’

Just thinking about the Heavenly Lord made my blood run cold.

If—by some far-off chance—the Heavenly Lord turned out to be the very entity that had flashed through my mind…

‘SPLASH!’

The sound of water exploding and rippling startled me out of my thoughts.

Turning my head, I saw a familiar face approaching, one I hadn’t even noticed drawing near.

“What’s got you so spaced out?”

A brusque voice broke through my reverie.

Despite the gruff tone, the emotion in Jeok Cheon-Gang’s eyes—hidden between the deep creases of his weathered face—was unmistakably one of concern and worry.

I couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle at the sight of him before I spoke.

“You startled me. What’s the matter?”

Jeok Cheon-Gang plopped down beside me with a thud and replied casually.

“You were out of sight for too long, so I came to check on you.”

“If you were coming, couldn’t you do it quietly? Did you really have to throw a rock?”

“Watching you toss stones like a seven-year-old was too frustrating. You got a problem with that?”

“What if I do?”

‘Whoosh!’

Before I could even finish my sentence, I ducked. A sharp burst of energy grazed my hair, slicing through the air where my head had just been.

Clicking his tongue, Jeok Cheon-Gang scowled.

“Your reflexes are damn good.”

“Not my first time dealing with this. I could dodge with my eyes closed now.”

“Then close them.”

“…I’d rather not.”

“You cocky little brat. But seriously, what had you so distracted just now? In Murim, spacing out like that will get you killed.”

“So… were you planning to kill me just now?”

“If you want it, I could make it happen.”

“Then you’d have to find a new disciple. Or maybe it doesn’t matter since I’m not officially your student?”

‘Ahem. Ahem.’

Jeok Cheon-Gang coughed awkwardly before abruptly changing the subject.

“Anyway, what’s got that rock-filled head of yours so troubled?”

“I was wondering where to dump the rocks.”

‘Smack!’

This time, I didn’t dodge in time. He succeeded in landing a strike on the back of my head, complete with ‘Golden Fist Technique’.

“You trying to piss blood?”

“Why? What’s wrong with a guy thinking about rocks when his head’s supposedly full of them?”

“Answer me properly before I swap your mouth and ass around.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rubbing the back of my stinging head, I paused to gather my thoughts before speaking.

“To be honest, I’m not from this world. And the evil force that exists in my world… it seems to have a deep connection with Dark Heaven. That water dragon that went berserk recently? It’s all their doing.

The crack in the cliff is called a gate, and if it fully opens, a flood of monsters will pour out.

And, though I hope it’s not the case, there’s this being in my world—Demon King Asmodeus. If he’s still alive and aiming for Murim, it would spell absolute doom—”

“Got it.”

I stopped mid-sentence, stunned by Jeok Cheon-Gang’s reaction.

“…What?”

“I said I got it.”

“You mean… you understood what I said?”

“I heard it all loud and clear. No need to repeat yourself.”

What’s with this reaction?

Confusion turned to something deeper—a raw, indescribable emotion welling up from the depths of my chest.

‘He believes me? This absurd story? No, he believes in ‘me’?’

Looking into Jeok Cheon-Gang’s steady gaze, I felt a lump rise in my throat, and an unfamiliar warmth filled my heart.

A year. It had been a little over a year since I’d arrived in Murim.

In that time, I’d faced countless challenges alongside this old man. The look in his eyes now was one of absolute trust—an unshakable belief in me.

‘…He’s really trusted me this much, all along.’

There are moments when emotions swell, rendering words impossible. Moments when even I don’t know what to say.

But now, I realized it was time to finally express what I’d been keeping to myself.

“Master. No… I mean…”

I hesitated, but the words finally came out.

Jeok Cheon-Gang smiled warmly, nodding.

“Understood. That’s a long-winded way of saying you want to die.”

“…Excuse me?”

“‘Excuse me’? What kind of stupid excuse is that?”

‘Bam! Bam! Bam!’

Before I could process it, dozens of strikes rained down on me, each one more punishing than the last.

As the searing heat coursed through my battered body, I thought bitterly.

‘Master is a ‘real’ piece of work.’

Getting emotional just now? That was my mistake.

—

“If you ever spout that nonsense again, I’ll rip you in half. Got it?”

Jeok Cheon-Gang’s deadly serious warning was met with a groan from Jin Taekyung, who lay sprawled, thoroughly beaten.

“Oh, hold on! I seriously feel like I’m about to die right now,” I groaned, barely able to lift my head.

“Shut it. You’re slower than my grandmother!”

“…By the way, Master, now that it’s been brought up, you wouldn’t happen to sneak out your smartphone when you go to the library, would you?”

‘Whack!’

Jeok Cheon-Gang delivered one final blow to my already battered head before clicking his tongue and walking off.

The oppressive aura radiating from him caused everyone around to hold their breaths and hastily clear a path.

‘Step, step.’

His steps echoed as he headed off into the distance.

Left alone, Jeok Cheon-Gang’s face showed an indescribable mix of emotions, a rare sight for someone as hardened as him.

‘…That brat. Always spouting nonsense.’

Still, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. Jeok Cheon-Gang, who had spent his entire life dismissing rumors and superstitions, couldn’t bring himself to ignore Jin Taekyung’s words.

No matter how absurd the story might have seemed, Jin Taekyung was a uniquely important existence to him.

‘Come to think of it, the brat was about to say something back there.’

Could it be? No, surely not.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Jeok Cheon-Gang looked up at the moon hanging above the cliffs.

Under the brilliant moonlight, he noticed a figure standing not far away, gazing out at the flowing river—someone who shared a similar burden.

“Care for a quick chat?” Jeok Cheon-Gang called out.

Moon Kyung responded without even looking back.

“No. Go away.”