Chapter 551
In the night, six young men and women quietly departed from Henan, two others clinked their glasses under the moonlit pavilion.
Clink.
A crystal-clear sound rang out as the cups tipped. The Fire King, Jeok Cheon-Gang, downed his drink in one go and muttered quietly.
“Doesn’t taste so good tonight.”
Across from him, Ma Jong-hak gave a faint smile.
“Seems your palate doesn’t agree with Nü’erhong today.”
“Don’t know. My throat’s been scratchy, and my tongue tastes bitter. You sure you didn’t poison this?”
It was the sort of remark no one else could joke about.
Only Jeok Cheon-Gang could say something like that—and only to Ma Jong-hak could it be brushed off with a laugh.
“What, me poisoning you? That would never happen. Though, perhaps I’ll give it a try someday.”
“Be sure to check properly first. I’m confident I can endure even [Formless Absolute Poison] now.”
“Oho, then I’ll marshal the full strength of the Murim Alliance to find something more potent.”
Jeok Cheon-Gang grumbled.
“Scary. Say that around someone else and they’ll think you’re serious.”
“Oh? Was that a joke? I hadn’t realized.”
…Seriously?
Watching Ma Jong-hak nod solemnly as if he’d just realized it, Jeok Cheon-Gang felt a chill.
‘Is this old lunatic still out of his mind?’
Only his appearance had grown younger. When it came to madness, he was the same as forty years ago.
Then again, he didn’t need to look far. That brat Cheongpung was evidence enough.
‘Like master, like disciple…’
Just then, his hand faltered while pouring another drink.
‘Disciple, huh.’
Ssshhk—
The wine overflowed slightly, and reflected in it was the face of a man with a bitter expression.
Familiar, yet still distant—his own.
Gazing silently at that reflection, Jeok Cheon-Gang suddenly spoke.
“Nothing will happen. Right?”
Ma Jong-hak, refilling his own glass, asked in return.
“Are you worried?”
“Worried? What nonsense. The boy’s over twenty—he should walk his own path. He’s old enough to start a household.”
He boasted, but the taste in his mouth remained bitter.
Because by now, he knew someone was already headed south—and their face lingered in his mind.
And Ma Jong-hak didn’t miss the flicker of emotion that passed across his face.
“He can’t have gone far.”
Lured by the offhand comment, Jeok Cheon-Gang replied bitterly.
“…We’ve already said our farewells. Meeting again would only make it harder to walk away.”
“When you put it like that… I suppose so.”
“So? The answer?”
“Hm? What answer?”
“What, did becoming the Alliance Leader make you deaf? You know… what I asked earlier.”
Jeok Cheon-Gang toyed with his cup and carefully repeated,
“Nothing will happen. Right?”
Ma Jong-hak paused, deep in thought, then answered.
“Maybe. Or maybe not.”
“…How is that even an answer?”
“Well, technically it is. I just said it, didn’t I?”
“Damn it. You’re driving me mad. Anyone could say that kind of thing.”
“Oh. You’re right. Anyone could.”
“Then how about you give me a proper answer—as the Murim Alliance Leader. A proper one!”
As Jeok Cheon-Gang snapped in frustration, Ma Jong-hak simply smiled.
“He’ll pull through. Just like he always has.”
“You mean that?”
“Of course. If I didn’t believe in him, why would I entrust such a crucial mission to the Fire Dragon Pavilion?”
Jeok Cheon-Gang’s voice softened slightly.
“Do you… have a backup plan in case something happens?”
“The Silver Spirit Pavilion’s eyes and ears are everywhere. Southern Barbarian is no exception.”
“You sent the Fire Dragon Pavilion because it was the fastest and most reliable method. Gathering a full army would’ve taken too long.”
The Murim Alliance today wasn’t any smaller than it had been during the Great War of Justice and Evil.
If anything, it had grown.
Though a few sects like Shaolin and Sichuan Gate had taken heavy hits, not a single province within the Nine Provinces had collapsed.
The issue was the time and resources required to gather troops and send them all the way to Southern Barbarian.
And Jin Taekyung’s Fire Dragon Pavilion was one of the few reliable cards the Alliance could play confidently.
But even so, Jeok Cheon-Gang’s anxiety didn’t fade.
He stared wordlessly at his cup until Ma Jong-hak mumbled under his breath, barely audible.
“There is one sure backup…”
“Hmm? What did you say just now?”
“Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself.”
“You dare lie to me? I heard it with my own ears!”
“Calm yourself and finish your drink. I’ll think it over.”
Jeok Cheon-Gang scowled as he fixed his gaze on Ma Jong-hak.
“…Damn old fox.”
“Why do you keep offering me tasteless liquor?”
“Sir Jeok.”
“What now?”
Jeok Cheon-Gang replied bluntly, but Ma Jong-hak looked at him with a serene gaze.
“You’ve already emptied five jars of that tasteless liquor.”
“You’re drinking the sixth now.”
“…Let’s just drink.”
Jeok Cheon-Gang fell silent and tilted his glass.
The fragrant scent of liquor passed down his throat—it wasn’t as bitter as he’d claimed. The soft moonlight brushed his face as it leaned back with the cup.
‘He should be somewhere down there by now.’
Heartless brat. He could’ve at least shown his face once before leaving.
The muttering in his heart scattered like mist on the wind.
* * *
Clop, clop.
The footsteps of the old horse were slow, and the straw covering his body was stiff and scratchy.
Outside the cart, the voices of peddlers and crowds faded away into the distance.
‘Did we make it out?’
As that thought crossed my mind, a whisper suddenly slipped into my ear.
“Captain, I need to take a dump.”
This lunatic Hyuk Mu-jin just can’t stop.
We couldn’t move right now, and using force would draw attention. I hissed back in a low voice.
“You crazy bastard. I told you to go before we left.”
“It’s the nerves. I’m nervous.”
“Then hold it in, you son of a—”
“Why are you swearing? I’m just being honest.”
“How could I not swear?! What if you crap here, what about the smell?”
Even a fart under the covers deserves a curse, and now we were buried in straw together. That kind of disaster was unthinkable.
“I was actually thinking—maybe if I just went, the stench would help us slip through checkpoints easier?”
“Just die. Please, just die.”
“Sorry. I really held it in, but I don’t think I can anymore. This might be the end for me.”
“Wait, Mu-jin. Just hold on. Just wait a second—”
“I’ll take my punishment later.”
No! You bastard!
Just as I panicked and started to rise—
“We’ve passed the central district of Luoyang. It’s a remote mountain path now. You may step out briefly.”
“Hah!”
“Pfft!”
Rustle!
Hyuk Mu-jin burst through the straw and sprinted into the bushes.
Saved from the brink, I bowed repeatedly toward my savior.
“Thank you. I’ll live a righteous life. Really. Thank you.”
“Seems he was really holding it in. Guess the checkpoint delay almost got him. Glad he made it in time.”
A familiar voice—but the woman smiling gently had a completely unfamiliar face.
Under the moonlight that streamed through the high branches, her freckled cheeks and dry, patchy skin stood out clearly.
‘No matter how many times I see it—it’s impressive.’
Just a few tweaks to her features, and her entire impression changed dramatically.
Noticing my stare, Ju Hwaran touched her face.
“Ah, I changed a bit, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. But your eyes are still the same.”
A smile flickered in those deep, blue-black eyes.
“I couldn’t change that with a disguise. If it weren’t for Lord Song, I wouldn’t have gotten a mask of this quality.”
From the driver’s seat, Song Ilseom added bluntly,
“It’s nothing. Just a survival trick I picked up.”
“For a survival trick, it’s impressive.”
“I’m sure you don’t mean it, but I’ll take the compliment anyway.”
That guy’s ridiculously prickly—I meant it, though.
The completely transformed face of Ju Hwaran was Song Ilseom’s handiwork.
I’d known he’d lived rough, scraping by from the bottom, but I hadn’t expected him to be skilled in disguise crafting too.
‘More useful than I thought.’
His varied experiences from life as a wanderer would definitely come in handy down the road.
As I admired Song Ilseom internally, a thought suddenly hit me.
“Wait. Why didn’t I get one?”
If I had a mask, I wouldn’t need to ride in a ticking poop-bomb disguised as luggage.
At my unjust complaint, Song Ilseom clicked his tongue.
“Every face is different. Just making the mold takes several days. How was I supposed to craft yours with so little time? If anything, a sloppy mask would’ve made you more suspicious. If it bothers you that much, go learn disguise techniques yourself.”
Having returned from his business, Hyuk Mu-jin joined in, face looking totally refreshed.
“Then what about Miss Ju? Didn’t you say it takes days?”
“Her mask…”
Song Ilseom trailed off, then scowled.
“This is pointless. Shut up and bury yourself back in the straw. Don’t stink up the air.”
“Says the guy who shits too…”
Muttering, Hyuk Mu-jin crawled back into the straw. Song Ilseom shot him a glare, then turned to me.
“Can I stab him?”
“No.”
I answered firmly and turned to Ju Hwaran.
“By now, the others should’ve made it out too, right?”
She, of course, knew exactly who I meant—and nodded slightly.
“Most likely. They went toward the west gate, where the inspection is weakest. They probably left Luoyang before we did.”
Taesan’s size made me worry, but Ju Hwaran wasn’t careless, and with the Alliance Headquarters and the Silver Spirit Pavilion backing us, we’d be fine.
Rustle.
Hyuk Mu-jin poked his head through the straw.
“So we’re heading straight for the Great Byeol Mountain Range?”
“Of course. We’ll switch horses once, but until then, nothing should go wrong.”
Ju Hwaran continued smoothly,
“If we don’t stop, it’ll take two shijinns. If there’s a thorough inspection, maybe up to three. After regrouping with the other two at the Great Byeol Mountain Range…”
“We exit Henan immediately afterward. Correct?”
Ju Hwaran smiled and nodded.
“Exactly as Pavilion Lord instructed.”
“…Pavilion Lord?”
“Why? Isn’t that the correct title?”
Technically, it was. But it felt strange—like wearing clothes that didn’t quite fit.
I smacked my lips and gave a small nod.
“Well, I guess you’re right. So, we shouldn’t have any issues getting to the Great Byeol Mountain Range?”
“Of course not. You could take a good nap and wake up there.”
Since Henan was the base of the Murim Alliance, it wasn’t an exaggeration to say the chances of an enemy ambush were almost nonexistent.
Even so, I gave a faint smile—not quite agreement, but not denial either.
“Why the expression?”
“It’s nothing. Really.”
What was I supposed to say? After a moment of thought, I continued.
“It’s just… thinking about dreaming again after so long—it feels strange.”
“Dreaming?”
“Yeah. Sometimes I have dreams. So deep, I wouldn’t notice even if someone carried me off.”
At my cryptic answer, Ju Hwaran tilted her head in confusion, while Song Ilseom furrowed his brow as if I were spouting nonsense.
Ignoring their reactions, I nestled deep into the straw stacked in the wagon’s cargo hold.
‘Two shijinns at best to the Great Byeol Mountain Range. That should be enough.’
Starting now, it was time for a dream I’d put off for far too long.
‘Logout.’
Dding.
With a clear chime, my once-sharp consciousness slowly began to fade.
(T/N: Finally! We are going back to the modern world! No more murim terms at the mean time. Translating them is a pain!)
* * * * * *
Translator’s Note:
Hey everyone, just a quick heads-up — starting next week, chapter releases might be a bit inconsistent for a while. My wife and I just had our baby, and I’ll be prioritizing taking care of them during this time. Depending on how things go, I might still be able to post chapters here and there, but I can’t promise a regular schedule just yet.
I really appreciate your patience and support. I’ll do my best to keep updates coming when I can, and I’ll let you all know once things start settling down and we’re closer to getting back to a steady rhythm.
Thanks again for sticking with me and this story. It means a lot.
(T/N: Yup! Sorry guys.)
