Murim Login - Chapter 504
Enlightenment comes at the most unexpected moments.
It arrives in a state of selflessness, where all thoughts are abandoned.
It appears when death looms near, forcing desperation into every breath.
Or, it comes when the chains that have bound one’s body and soul for decades are finally cast off.
And so, enlightenment arrived.
BOOOOOM!
A powerful surge of energy erupted from a single person, sweeping across the surroundings.
The dark, lightless cave was now illuminated by a radiant glow.
Watching the extraordinary scene unfold, Moon Kyung whispered under his breath.
“You’ve finally… freed yourself from your Heart Demon.”
This was never his intention from the start.
He had only wanted to convey a single truth—
That Jeok Cheon-Gang was not alone.
That he did not have to isolate himself, bearing all the burdens alone.
And yet, the result had surpassed his expectations.
The supreme master known as the Fire King had shattered the chains that bound him for so long and was now stepping into a new realm.
“I suppose my meddling wasn’t entirely useless.”
Moon Kyung muttered, his gaze carrying a mix of complex emotions.
He wasn’t sure why he had even come looking for Jeok Cheon-Gang.
Why he had helped him, despite their lack of any deep connection.
No—perhaps even if he did understand, he would have pretended otherwise.
That was just the kind of person he was.
That was how he had lived his entire life.
And yet…
‘It doesn’t feel too bad.’
Moon Kyung was unaware.
That, without realizing it, a faint smile had brushed across his lips.
Just as it had a few days prior.
It had been such a brief moment that he had not noticed it.
Turning away, he stepped out of the narrow cave into the open world.
Swoooosh.
A cool breeze stirred his hair, brushing against his face.
Moon Kyung quietly observed the lush grass, the scattered wildflowers, and the gathering of small animals around the cave.
He suddenly spoke.
“A guardian is needed. If ignorant beasts wander into the cave, all that hard-earned enlightenment would be wasted.”
Creak?
A young fawn, grazing beside its sleeping mother, perked up its ears.
With wary, curious eyes, the animals stared at him.
Moon Kyung tilted his head back, looking up at the clear blue sky.
“It’s a good day. Staying holed up inside a cave would be a waste.”
Muttering to himself, he began walking—not too fast, nor too slow.
Leaving the cave behind, he disappeared somewhere into the distance.
As if seeing him off, the wind blew once more.
Swoooosh.
A sky without a single cloud. A cool breeze.
Wild creatures basking in the sunlight, lying in the peaceful meadow.
And… someone hesitating outside the cave, unable to step inside.
‘Master and disciple… they truly are alike.’
A silent smile crossed Moon Kyung’s face.
Two butterflies fluttered through the air, landing gently on his shoulder.
It was a truly beautiful day.
—
A newborn fawn is full of curiosity.
It chases after butterflies, leaps around, and sniffs the flowers and grass with its tiny black nose.
And, as always, it quickly loses interest and wanders off in search of something new.
Creak?
But today was different.
The dark entrance of the cave looked so deep and mysterious, as if it could swallow everything inside.
Its mother was asleep, exhausted from caring for it.
And most importantly, the strange two-legged creature had disappeared into the distance.
Creak. What’s in there? I want to go in.
Creak! Alright, let’s go!
But the fawn’s firm decision lasted only as long as it took to nibble on a few blades of grass.
Step.
At the sudden sound of approaching footsteps, a shadow loomed over its small head.
Startled, the fawn took a quick step back.
Its wide, dark eyes reflected the image of a towering figure.
“Not now. You can go in later.”
A gentle hand ruffled the fawn’s head.
The figure stared quietly at the cave’s dark entrance.
The fawn instinctively wanted to wake its mother, but the stranger’s presence was calm, his gaze heavy with thought.
Creak…
“There, there. Now go back to your mother.”
The fawn hesitated for a moment before trotting back to its sleeping mother.
The figure straightened and turned toward the cave.
His steps were steady, and his voice, carried by the wind, was faint.
“It’s time for me to go as well.”
The path to the cave was long.
One year and a few months had passed since the day an old man and a young man had first met.
After a long journey, they were finally about to meet again.
Not as master and disciple, not as one leading the other.
But as two people walking side by side.
—
“Jin Taekyung! Just when the hell is that brat getting here?”
Gong Gi-Bang grumbled with an irritated expression.
Hyuk Mu-Jin clicked his tongue.
“Tsk, tsk. With that short temper of yours, how do you expect to be a good beggar? You should learn some patience.”
“Listen to this guy! Are beggars not allowed to be impatient now?”
“If you don’t have patience, how do you expect people to spare you even a single coin?”
“Hey, Hyuk family’s cloth merchant, you want the Ten Thousand Beggars Sect to come take a massive dump in front of your store?”
“…Let’s not bring my family into this.”
“Then watch your mouth. We may be broke, but we ain’t out of sht!”
Hyuk Mu-Jin grimaced at Gong Gi-Bang.
“Damn it, I just ate. Do you really have to talk about crap right now? We’re about to board a ship, too.”
“Then unless you want your family’s shop covered in crap—”
“Ugh, enough already! Talking about crap right after eating makes me sick!”
As the two men argued, another figure tilted his head slightly.
Moon Kyung turned toward someone and asked,
“Are you sure he’s coming?”
The young physician, known as a disciple of Shin Eui, bowed respectfully.
“Yes. The young lord has assured us so.”
“We have to leave before the sun sets…”
Jin Wi-Gyeong murmured, looking at the sky slowly turning red.
The New Murim Alliance Proclamation in Henan was just a month away.
If they wanted to account for any possible obstacles along the way, they had to move quickly.
“No… rather, I should be grateful that we are at least bringing Grandmaster Jeok with us.”
For the past seven days, Jeok Cheon-Gang had remained completely secluded, and rumors had begun to spread.
Some claimed he had finally reached the threshold of enlightenment.
Others whispered concerns that his health had taken a turn for the worse.
And some insisted that he was simply keeping himself hidden without any real reason.
Jin Wi-Gyeong had no way of knowing which of these stories were true.
But one thing was certain—he had been secretly anxious.
“What if he refused to participate in the Murim Alliance gathering…?”
In the end, it seemed his persuasion had been effective.
Many in the righteous Murim had long forgotten, but Fire King Jeok Cheon-Gang had never truly belonged to either the righteous or the demonic factions.
This principle had defined the Yeolhwa Sect for generations.
For centuries, the sect had upheld its lineage as an independent martial order, sustained solely through a single master-disciple transmission.
Each head of the sect had defended their neutrality, relying solely on their overwhelming martial prowess.
“And yet, we are speaking of none other than Grandmaster Jeok.”
Everyone, even children, knew that the Fire King had once led the righteous faction to victory in the Great War.
However, few were aware that this supreme martial artist had been deeply disillusioned with the righteous sects—both during and after the war.
—
“That reminds me… my grandfather once told me something about Grandmaster Jeok.”
At those words, Jin Wi-Gyeong’s ears perked up.
“About him?”
“Yes.”
“I have heard that the former head of the Zhuge Clan was a wise man with unparalleled insight. May I ask what he said?”
“It was something I overheard when I was thirteen, back at the Zhuge estate.”
“I see… And what exactly did he say?”
“I remember it clearly. My grandfather was recounting the events of the Great War… Ah, have you ever heard about the role my clan played in the Great Battle of Sichuan?”
Crunch.
The sound of clenched fists.
Zhuge Pung had been casually fanning himself, but now, he froze mid-motion.
He glanced at Jin Wi-Gyeong’s tightly clenched fists and the rising heat in his face, then quickly lowered his fan.
Jin Wi-Gyeong may have been a refined martial artist, but his sheer physical presence was akin to a living weapon.
And to top it off, he was an absolute expert, wielding the corpse of the Water Dragon, a priceless treasure, in his grasp.
Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Zhuge Pung cleared his throat and spoke carefully.
“Ahem. In any case, I once asked my grandfather—when did the war first start turning in favor of the righteous faction?”
Jin Wi-Gyeong, his voice now calm and composed, responded.
“Was it because the Zhuge Clan played a significant role in the Great Battle of Sichuan?”
“No! Absolutely not!”
“Oh, that’s a relief. Please, continue.”
Zhuge Pung glanced warily at Jin Wi-Gyeong’s clenched fists before resuming his story.
“That was the first and only time I saw my grandfather hesitate before answering a question. After much thought, he finally said… Well, can you guess?”
“Since you mentioned Grandmaster Jeok, I would assume it was the Great Battle of Shaanxi. Many great warriors contributed to the victory, but Grandmaster Jeok’s achievements in that battle were beyond legendary.”
The Great Battle of Shaanxi was one of the bloodiest battles of the war, yet it had resulted in an overwhelming victory.
Jin Wi-Gyeong had carefully considered his response, but Zhuge Pung simply chuckled and shook his head.
“Wrong.”
“Then what was it?”
“Anhui Province.”
“Anhui…? Wait, you don’t mean—”
“That’s right. No one expected the Black Wind Corps, a force of one thousand elite warriors from the Demonic Cult, to be completely annihilated by a single man. Not even my grandfather saw it coming.”
Jin Wi-Gyeong nodded.
That was the day Mount Jiuhua had been engulfed in flames.
The nameless old man who had lived in obscurity until then became known as the Fire King.
And with the fall of the Black Wind Corps—the Demonic Cult’s most elite strike force—the tide of the Great War had shifted irreversibly.
“That makes sense. After all, that was the battle that revealed Grandmaster Jeok to the world.”
“But if not for my grandfather’s insight, the Black Wind Corps would not have been lured into that battle in the first place. And Grandmaster Jeok would not have earned his title as the Fire King.”
“What do you mean…?”
Zhuge Pung lowered his voice as he glanced around.
“The Black Wind Corps had no reason to pass through Mount Jiuhua. The entire province of Anhui was open to them—they could have taken any other route.”
“Wait… Then, are you saying—?”
“My grandfather never forgets anything he reads. He recalled an ancient record from over a hundred years ago, detailing a forgotten martial sect.”
Zhuge Pung smirked.
“It was a bold gamble… but it worked. A strategy that could rival the genius of Zhuge Liang himself, don’t you think?”
Just as Zhuge Pung smugly praised his own lineage, a deep, steady voice cut through the air.
“So… that’s what happened.”
“…Huh?”
Zhuge Pung turned his head in confusion—
And saw him.
A middle-aged man, walking toward them from an impossible distance.
And beside him, a familiar young man.
“Zhuge Clan, assemble.”
A gust of wind swept through the area.
Fiery red hair fluttered under the sky.
—
The Rebirth of Youth.
It is a state that all martial artists dream of attaining.
A phenomenon in which the body reconstructs itself upon reaching a level of absolute enlightenment, regaining its former youth.
But if it were that easy, countless martial artists wouldn’t have died dreaming of it.
Such a feat was only possible with the blessing of fate itself.
And now, beside me, a man who had spent decades striving for this miracle was walking forward.
“Zhuge Clan, assemble.”
The wind stirred, carrying the vibrant red of his hair.
A powerful, muscular frame, standing seven feet tall.
His voice was as heavy as an iron club.
‘…This is really hard to get used to.’
Could a person really change this much?
No matter how much I stared, I couldn’t shake the strange feeling creeping up on me.
The Fire King, Jeok Cheon-Gang I had known was a short, elderly man—so old that it seemed impossible for him to age any further.
Not a broad-shouldered, muscular man who looked, at most, in his late forties.
Jeok Cheon-Gang must have noticed my gaze because he suddenly stopped walking and muttered.
“What? What now?”
“No, but seriously, how is this possible? What age did you regress to?”
“It must have been before I turned sixty. Though my hair was never red before.”
“Just how badly did you age? Shrinking with age is normal, but… wait, did you lose your legs in your eighties or something?”
“Never lost them. But if you keep running your mouth, I just might cut yours off.”
Jeok Cheon-Gang shot me a sharp glare but then clicked his tongue.
“Anyway, stop staring. It’s strange for me too.”
“If it’s weird for you, imagine how it feels for me. Also… I don’t even know if I should still call you ‘old man’ anymore.”
“Then what will you call me?”
“Mister?”
“…Do you have a death wish?”
Good. The fact that he still spoke like that proved he was the same Jeok Cheon-Gang I knew.
That was strangely reassuring.
While I was lost in thought, I realized that the familiar faces waiting for us had all turned toward us with confused expressions.
“Uh…?”
“Commander, who’s that man beside you?”
A perfectly reasonable reaction.
But those who were already aware of the situation were different.
“M-Maknae.”
“Uh, benefactor… that person, by any chance…?”
Jin Wi-Gyeong and Cheongpung were quick to grasp the situation.
Jin Wi-Gyeong had always been the calm, analytical type.
Cheongpung, being the second strongest among us after Moon Kyung, could also make a reasonable guess.
And then there was Zhuge Pung, who was now staring at me with heavy suspicion.
“Red hair, red flames…” Zhuge Pung muttered, deep in thought. “From the reports I’ve received, no one with such a distinct appearance has entered or left this area. And what concerns me the most… is that this man appears to be quite close to you. But as far as I know, you don’t have any friends.”
“…That’s annoying, but not inaccurate. So?”
“So, using my brilliant intellect, I have come to the following conclusion: the man beside you must be none other than the reborn Jeok Cheon-Gang… But haha, what nonsense, right?”
“Nope. You’re correct.”
“No, he’s not. It’s nonsense.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’? I’m telling you he’s right.”
“Just call it nonsense. Please.”
“It’s the truth.”
This time, I wasn’t the one who answered.
With a firm step, Jeok Cheon-Gang stepped forward—and the atmosphere around us shifted drastically.
“H-Hah!”
“Rebirth of youth…? Then his identity is…!”
The temporary dock was packed with warriors.
There were Wudang disciples, Zhuge Clan martial artists, and even the Water Dragon Stronghold members who had been assigned to transport us.
All of them stared wide-eyed at the reborn Fire King.
Zhuge Pung’s pupils shook violently.
“Why is the Fire King here?!”
It was practically written all over his face.
As the murmurs spread, Zhuge Pung eventually lowered his head respectfully and offered a martial salute.
“It is an honor to see you again, Grandmaster Jeok. I was deeply concerned when you went into seclusion…”
Jeok Cheon-Gang’s expression remained cold.
“So, the reason the Demonic Cult ignored all other routes and came straight to Mount Jiuhua… now I see why.”
Zhuge Pung let out an awkward chuckle.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“If you feign ignorance one more time, I won’t let it slide.”
“…May I ask how much you overheard?”
“From ‘if not for my wise and discerning grandfather’s judgment,’ onward.”
“Ah. So you heard… everything.”
“Yes. Everything.”
“If I were to say that you’ve misunderstood—”
“I would burn the Zhuge Clan to the ground.”
“Ahem…”
“I always thought it was strange. Why did those bastards from the Demonic Cult deliberately take that path, when they had countless other options?”
Jeok Cheon-Gang’s gaze turned razor-sharp as he clenched his fists.
Even in his frail, elderly state, this glare had been enough to make men cower.
Now that he had regained his youth, his sheer presence was overwhelming.
“I woke up from a nap, and Mount Jiuhua was on fire. What do you think about that?”
“…Not ideal.”
“And?”
Zhuge Pung swallowed dryly.
“I imagine that must have been… deeply upsetting.”
“Deeply upsetting? Hah. If I hadn’t rushed over in time, my entire home would have been reduced to ashes.”
“But it wasn’t, was it? That’s good.”
“Everything except my home burned down. Including my patience.”
“Ah…”
“Now, I’ll give you two choices.”
Jeok Cheon-Gang raised one finger.
“First option: I line up every Zhuge Clan member in a row and slap them all across the face.”
For a brief moment, I thought, That would be quite a sight.
But before I could process it further, Zhuge Pung immediately responded.
“I’ll take the second option.”
“Do you even know what it is?”
“Whatever it is, I’ll take it.”
I mean, if it were me, I’d pick option two too.
Pride was one of the most valuable things a martial artist could have.
If word got out that the entire Zhuge Clan had been publicly slapped by Jeok Cheon-Gang, they might as well shut down immediately.
Even a great noble house like the Zhuge Clan wouldn’t recover from such a humiliation.
So Zhuge Pung had made the smart choice.
But still, he couldn’t shake off the uneasiness gnawing at him.
“And… what exactly is the second option?”
Jeok Cheon-Gang stroked his short red beard, glancing around at everyone—including me.
Then, he uttered a single sentence.
“Do better from now on.”
“…Grandmaster, forgive me, but could you clarify—”
“The war has already begun. So, do as well as your grandfather did during the Great War—or even better.”
Jeok Cheon-Gang’s voice carried the weight of absolute authority.
“Your grandfather didn’t order the Demonic Cult to burn down Mount Jiuhua, after all. There’s no point in getting angry at someone already buried in the ground. I can’t exactly go digging up his grave just to scold him, can I?”
Then, turning to me, he continued.
“Besides, if the Demonic Cult hadn’t set fire to Mount Jiuhua that day, certain fateful encounters would never have happened… But why do you look like that?”
I hastily corrected my expression.
“This is just my normal face.”
“…I have my doubts, but I’ll let it slide.”
To be honest, I had fully expected Jeok Cheon-Gang to suggest pissing on the former Zhuge patriarch’s grave in retaliation. If I had said that out loud, he probably would have tried to kill me on the spot.
Judging by the looks on everyone else’s faces, I wasn’t alone in that thought.
“Still, it’s kind of touching that he thinks this much about it.”
As Jeok Cheon-Gang had said—if he had remained hidden as a recluse in Mount Jiuhua, we wouldn’t be here together now.
We would have lived in completely separate worlds, never even knowing of each other’s existence.
But fate had pushed me into the world of Murim.
It had led me to Jeok Cheon-Gang.
And now, whether by fate or coincidence, we had another destination to reach.
Henan.
As the name filled my thoughts—
Moon Kyung, who had been standing apart with an unreadable expression, suddenly spoke.
“The sun is setting.”
The western mountains were already dyed a deep red.
And standing before me, his fiery-red hair glowing even brighter under the evening light, Jeok Cheon-Gang grinned.
“Let’s go, then.”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
To Henan.
To the New Murim Alliance.
—
“So, they’ve all left?”
The first to speak was a serene-looking elder.
His skin was smooth, unblemished by age, and his flowing white robes shone under the light.
The man who brought him the news was also elderly, but his tattered, patchwork robes reflected a humble and frugal nature.
Clink.
Setting down his teacup, the raggedly dressed Taoist, Hyun Gong Jin, responded.
“Yes, Grandmaster.”
Once, long ago, these two men had been young disciples, studying under the same master.
Now, they stood as pillars of Wudang—respected by all.
Hyun Gong Jin had reached the pinnacle of martial arts, renowned as one of the greatest grandmasters.
And his senior brother had inherited their master’s position as the head of Wudang Sect.
This was Hyun Cheon Jin, the leader of Wudang.
“I had hoped to see him before he left…”
There was a note of regret in his voice.
Hyun Gong Jin responded,
“It couldn’t be helped, Grandmaster. It’s not as if you avoided meeting him on purpose.”
“That’s true, but still… I wanted to see him. As well as the Twin Dragons of the Taeweon Clan and Mount Hua’s prodigy. And now, I hear that Jeok Cheon-Gang has also attained enlightenment. I should have met him as well… Hah.”
“Don’t worry too much, Grandmaster. You’ll see them all again soon enough.”
“Yes… if this letter is to be believed.”
Hyun Cheon Jin glanced at the sealed letter on the table.
On the envelope, written in bold, powerful calligraphy, were three words:
Murim Alliance.
Just three characters.
Yet, the weight they carried was undeniable.
The Murim Alliance was the very symbol of the righteous Murim.
And its revival signaled the return of a war rivaling the Great War of Righteous and Demonic.
“So… it begins.”
A grim expression settled on Hyun Cheon Jin’s face.
He could almost hear the echoes of his fallen senior and junior disciples from the past war—their cries as they died on the battlefield.
The horrors of his youth were about to repeat.
“Master… I think I finally understand how you felt back then.”
As he was recalling the face of his late master, who had succumbed to injuries sustained during the Great War—
Suddenly—
“Grandmaster!”
A desperate voice rang out from outside the hall.
Sensing something amiss, Hyun Cheon Jin flicked his sleeve.
A gentle pulse of inner energy opened the doors effortlessly.
Upon seeing the familiar face at the entrance, Hyun Gong Jin furrowed his brows.
“You…?”
The man gasping for breath was one of Wudang’s elite second-generation disciples.
He had been assigned to the pursuit team tasked with hunting Sal-Gwi —the Demon Ghost.
Hyun Gong Jin’s eyes widened.
“Don’t tell me…?”
“Yes! We caught him!”
“That’s excellent! The vile monster who has committed unspeakable atrocities is finally—”
Hyun Gong Jin stopped mid-sentence.
Because Hyun Cheon Jin’s face had turned deadly serious.
His senior brother was not rejoicing.
Instead, he was staring intently at the disciple.
“You’ve captured the Demon Ghost… so why do you look so uneasy? What happened?”
“W-Well…”
“Did someone else die? Or was someone injured?”
“No, Grandmaster, it’s not that…”
The disciple hesitated, unable to bring himself to speak further.
Finally, he bowed his head and muttered.
“We have brought the Demon Ghost’s body here. It would be best if you saw it for yourself.”
“What do you mean—?”
Hyun Cheon Jin’s confusion didn’t last long.
Barely fifteen minutes later, when the disciples brought forth the corpse of the Demon Ghost,
He was silent for a long time.
After a heavy pause, he finally spoke.
“It seems… we have yet another reason to go to Henan.”
Reflected in the Taoist’s sharp gaze was something neither man nor beast.
Something… in between.