ISS 73

chapter 73

The Murim Alliance was busy preparing for the Murim Tournament.

Those in charge of the guest quarters cleaned the rooms to welcome Murim’s notable teachers and made preparations so their stay would be comfortable. People from the outer office, who were responsible for external events including the duel tournament, were setting up the arena and attending to various safety precautions — doing everything needed to ensure the Murim Tournament would run smoothly.

In the Murim Alliance leader’s office, two people sat facing one another.

They were Seo Jamyeong, the Iron-Slab Sword — leader of the Murim Alliance — and Captain Jegal Minggi.

At a time when the righteous Murim was about to host a major event, both men looked extremely serious.

“A jangbodo…?” Seo Jamyeong murmured.

Jangbodo!

A jangbodo is a kind of map that reveals where hidden treasures, special artifacts, or even the final resting places of great Murim masters can be found.

Though countless jangbodo had surfaced in the Murim before, most of those whispered about so secretly turned out to be fake or manipulated.

It was likely a fabricated jangbodo — but they couldn’t just sit still. There was a possibility it might be real. If Sama’s faction and the well-known large sects and medium and small sects of the Murim, plus unknown low-ranked fighters who’d just stepped into the Murim like greenhorns, all fought over a single jangbodo, utter carnage would be inevitable.

To prevent that, the Murim Alliance would have to step in.

The Alliance leader’s expression showed how displeased he was with the situation.

“It’s not certain yet. We’ve dispatched a Bikyukdan unit to track the jangbodo’s trail, but considering the appearance of demonic arts and how furtively the jangbodo rumors are spreading, there are far too many things that suggest this isn’t a simple coincidence.”

“Yeah. Those coincidences stack up so much that I’d believe the mysterious young man if he called it a conspiracy.”

That young man had said, through the Shinchang Yi family, that the appearance of magong (demonic arts) could be part of a plot targeting the Murim.

“The rumors are spreading so discreetly that not everyone even knows about the jangbodo yet, but during the tournament, many more people will find out.”

“If that happens, it’ll ruin the Murim Tournament, won’t it?”

“More worrying is the greed. A lot of those who hear the rumors will rush in unprepared, driven by hope. If many of our young late-stage practitioners are dragged into this and lost, we’ll repeat what happened thirty years ago.”

Because of the Manmazon Samyeong Jade, Murim had regressed thirty years before; if many promising late-stage practitioners died because of this jangbodo incident, Murim’s development would be stalled for as long as it should otherwise have advanced.

Jegal Minggi argued that stagnation equaled regression.

“What would you have us do?” Seo Jamyeong asked.

“Rather than keeping quiet, I think it would be better to reveal it during the Murim Tournament and have the Alliance organize a search team. We could take young practitioners who aren’t formally affiliated with any alliance or sect with us to track the jangbodo’s trail.”

“Hmm…”

It was a good plan, but he worried whether those people would wait until the tournament concluded, and whether they might end up enlarging the problem.

“Some who hear about the jangbodo late may simply give up, won’t they?”

“People’s greed is endless. Many will rush in unprepared hoping for a windfall. If that happens, many casualties will be unavoidable.”

That was obvious.

“What about the Sado Alliance?”

“They’re in a similar position. The Sama Military Fortress (Sama Gunseong) I know isn’t the sort to act recklessly. They’ll also move their Yahwa operatives.”

Yahwa — literally “Night Talks” — was both the name of the Sado Alliance’s intelligence organization and the title given to its operatives.

“Then the issue will be the five great families, the Nine Old Sects, and the medium and small factions.”

“We can’t stop them. Once they hear of a jangbodo, they’ll move by clan or sect. The heterodox sects will, too. This will be useful for checking them.”

Seo Jamyeong thought conflict with the Sado Alliance was inevitable because of this jangbodo matter.

“Can’t we coordinate with Sado Alliance beforehand?”

If they could reduce casualties, they should.

“We can coordinate at the Alliance level, but not with every Sado sect. And the reverse applies — I think Sama Gunseong knows this, so they won’t just stand still.”

“So you mean coordination is possible at the alliance level, even if not at the sect level.”

“It depends on how negotiations go, but whoever reaches out first will take the hit.”

“Even if it costs us, we should save as many lives as possible. You push that forward.”

“I will. Then, as planned, we’ll form an Alliance-led jangbodo investigation team through the Murim Tournament.”

“Do that. I’ll inform the elders and ask for their help.”

The atmosphere in the inn had turned tense. The many guests, sensing danger, scattered, and the once-bustling inn became extremely quiet.

The remaining patrons were only some late-stage practitioners from Shandong Province and a few swordsmen.

Even those left looked visibly tense.

“Where do you think you can hide?” a man from Cheonmyeong Lodge snarled, radiating murderous intent.

“Who says anyone’s hiding?” Yu Akgun snapped back.

“You breed assassins in secret… knowing full well that once someone masters demonic arts they’ll become a public enemy of the Murim, yet you hush it up because he’s your child! How dare you deal with our Master like this?”

Yu Akgun’s words caused a small ripple.

“Is that true?” Seo Gunha asked.

Seo Gunha didn’t know that Hyeon Jinmyeong had learned demonic arts. There was no reason to tell him, and it wouldn’t help anything for him to know.

“But Oppa, why would that man try to kill you?” the naive Ye Hwirang asked, displeased at Hyeon Taeji from Cheonmyeong Lodge sending killing intent at Geomryeong.

“Haah.” An involuntary sigh escaped Geomryeong.

“Hiring assassins to kill us wasn’t enough; sending poisoned shinchang Yi elders — Elder Uije-woong and Hyeonryongdan — to the Murim Alliance, poisoning them to death — is that the sort of thing righteous Murim people would do?”

Because of the previous incident, Jeok Hwamyeong’s view of Cheonmyeong Lodge had completely changed.

Hyeon Taeji’s face reddened.

That episode had made relations with the Shinchang Yi family utterly hostile.

“Why? Are you saying it’s not true, Elder Hyeon Taeji?” someone retorted.

“Do you think words will be enough?” Hyeon Taeji snapped. If he backed down now, it would be as if he admitted everything Jeok Hwamyeong had accused him of, so he raised his voice.

‘Damn it.’

Hyeon Taeji glanced around the inn.

Some people were listening. The young men seated to one side did not look like ordinary commoners.

Not all righteous Murim fighters were known to everyone.

In the Murim world, even someone living next door might be unknown if there was no exchange.

‘If they want to silence us, they’ll have to kill everyone…’ he thought, scolding himself for his hasty words.

He might be able to beat Jeok Hwamyeong, but he couldn’t be certain about Geomryeong, the one who had severed Hyeon Tae-ryeong’s ear.

‘This is not in our favor.’

“There are people who think yelling will win them the fight even these days. I really don’t know why they live,” Geomryeong said.

“Be quiet,” he added, and Yu Akgun immediately shut his mouth. Ye Hwirang giggled at the sight.

Hyeon Taeji realized they didn’t care about him or his family.

“Are you going to fight?” Geomryeong finally spoke.

Representing his family from Guangdong Province, he was furious at being disrespected by a youngster.

“You punk!” Hyeon Taeji roared.

“Our Hwirang hasn’t finished her meal yet. If you want to fight, then come at us; otherwise go do whatever brought you here and leave!” Geomryeong said calmly.

For a moment, the hall fell silent.

The Shandong late-stage practitioners whispered among themselves. From the exchange, they seemed to understand who Geomryeong was.

“That’s the one who defeated Hyeon Tae-ryeong with martial skill, isn’t it?” someone said.

The news that Geomryeong had defeated Hyeon Tae-ryeong and cut off his ear had long since circulated.

The Shandong practitioners looked at Geomryeong differently now.

Women stared as if at a hero from a dream, while the men’s looks mixed envy and admiration.

“All right, let’s see…” Hyeon Taeji started.

“Uncle!” Hyeon Jinwoo — Cheonmyeong Lodge’s eldest son and the next head of the family — grabbed Hyeon Taeji as he lunged at Geomryeong in fury.

“We have duties to finish first,” Hyeon Jinwoo said.

“But that bastard—!”

“Finish your business first. We can catch that one after. Control yourself.”

Hyeon Taeji glared at Geomryeong one more time, then turned away.

“Are you here to attend the Murim Tournament?” Hyeon Jinwoo asked.

“Also that,” Geomryeong replied.

“Then we’ll settle our family’s grievance with you after the tournament is over. You won’t cowardly run away, will you?”

“Run away? That wet-behind-the-ears brat would run from our Guizy? What nonsense. Even until the Murim Tournament—” Hyeon Taeji began.

“Enough. I warned you to be quiet. Speak again and I’ll rearrange your dental order, understood?” Geomryeong said, and Yu Akgun clenched his lips and glared at Hyeon Jinwoo in return.

“Uncle scolds me all the time,” Ye Hwirang said, laughing as Yu Akgun received Geomryeong’s scolding.

Seo Gunha looked on silently, full of questions, waiting for the story to be told.

Geomryeong found Hyeon Jinwoo’s provocations laughably childish.

“Do I have any reason to run? Wait. And call everyone from Cheonmyeong Lodge. It’s tiring and annoying to keep dealing with you all one by one.”

“You bastard!” Hyeon Taeji finally snapped and leaped forward, sending a pair of palm strikes bursting ahead with fierce force.

Someone moved faster than Hyeon Taeji.

It was Ye Hwirang.

Her pale, elegant small palm met Hyeon Taeji’s pair of palm strikes.

Screeeech!

Her white palm technique tore through the powerful force that enveloped Hyeon Taeji’s palm strike, then struck strongly against his hand.

Thud—thud—bam.

The impact sent Hyeon Taeji tumbling to the floor. Ye Hwirang used the rebound to flip in the air and land beside Geomryeong.

“If you bother Geomryeong oppa, Hwirang won’t forgive you,” she declared, looking at Geomryeong with eyes that said she wanted praise for her action.

Geomryeong ruffled her hair and nodded. Ye Hwirang beamed.

“Ugh!” Contrary to the pair’s calmness, Hyeon Taeji’s condition did not look good.

Both his wrists were bent out of shape, as if the bones had been shattered.

“Uncle,” Hyeon Jinwoo said.

“I’m fine,” Hyeon Taeji said through gritted teeth, glaring as if he might kill Ye Hwirang. With Hyeon Jinwoo supporting him, he got back up.

“Isn’t it better if you simply go elsewhere to eat?” Jeok Hwamyeong said.

He told them to leave because he knew nothing but a fight would happen if they stayed.

They didn’t mind leaving — they had come first and ordered food. Leaving might give the impression that they were intentionally avoiding others.

“Why should we leave…?”

“Fine. We’ll go. Eat your unfinished meal. But when the Murim Tournament ends, we will make you pay for today’s humiliation, Jeok Hwamyeong,” Hyeon Taeji said. Hyeon Jinwoo cut him off midway; he bit down on his words so hard a grinding sound could be heard throughout the inn.

“What do you mean—” Jeok Hwamyeong began.

“Be sensible, uncle,” Hyeon Jinwoo urged.

Hyeon Taeji stopped speaking and instead bit his lip as he looked at Ye Hwirang, whose hands he had been maiming.

‘That was definitely the Bingbaek Small Palm.’ Hyeon Taeji thought. He recognized Ye Hwirang’s technique at once.

There are countless martial techniques in the Murim, but few are famous. A hundred years ago, a figure named Cheon Gija compiled the Murim White Book and ranked martial arts according to his ideas.

The Hundred Great Martial Arts!

That book had been so popular people from martial lineages, sects, and local dojangs bought it.

At the top was the Cheonma Invincible Divine Skill that had dominated Murim five hundred years ago; it was followed by the Saryeong Divine Skill of Cheonsa and the Cheonggeom Power of Cheonmu. Then came famous techniques like Shaolin’s Dalma Sword and Wudang’s Hyeguk Hye Geom, as well as Huashan’s Plum Blossom Sword—various techniques listed and ranked.

Bingbaek Small Palm was placed thirty-sixth in that ranking. Though that was just Cheon Gija’s personal view, the so-called “Hundred Great Martial Arts” had little real difference between them; the main difference was who had mastered them.

‘If it is truly Bingbaek Small Palm, we alone can’t deal with them. We’ll need to contact our clan for reinforcements. If not my brother, there’s no one who can handle that woman,’ Hyeon Taeji thought.

He believed that unless Geompae Hyeon Tae-ryeong stepped in, he could not contend with Bingbaek Small Palm.

Hyeon Jinwoo glanced at Geomryeong then turned away.

“Let’s go.”