Entering the Murim
[Chapter 38: Departing for the Murim]
"But why are we suddenly attacking a human nation? And a mortal kingdom at that?"
The Goblin race unconditionally unlocks the potential for the Core Formation realm from birth. Just as a fish naturally understands how to swim from the moment it is born, and a hatchling instinctively recognizes its sire and dam, every Goblin is granted the opportunity to cultivate. Their core naturally forms inside their bodies once they reach maturity. They are born instinctively capable of refining and absorbing the demonic qi of nature.
However, they were an exceptional category among the countless seeds of creation. Normally, this should be impossible. They should have been blocked by the limitations of birth and flesh, much like the flora and fauna of my old hometown, Earth. The humans of this world were no different. The vast majority were mere ordinary animals composed of protein and phosphorus.
Yet, because this world was rather extraordinary, mutants were born. An organ commonly referred to as a spiritual root, which awkwardly straddled the line between the physical and the non-physical. Sometimes acquired by chance, sometimes through special methods, the spiritual root allowed even humans—who normally couldn't even sense natural spiritual energy, let alone absorb it—to cultivate. And amazingly, the spiritual root remained like genetic material, occasionally manifesting in subsequent generations. If a child didn't possess it, it might be passed down to the grandchildren or even the great-grandchildren. A bizarre mutation transmitted through time, fate, and blood. Even if one completely dissected and tore apart the entire body, the organ known as a spiritual root could not be seen, but it was undeniably a bloodline-inherited ability passed down through lineage. Eventually, as generations accumulated, humans who birthed cultivators with a high probability began to emerge.
Cultivators who had internally transformed into entirely different creatures from humans, an evolution in its own right. Born as humans yet aiming for ascension—or rather, leaving one to doubt whether they were even born human in the first place—they were currently splitting the world with the Yokai and fighting them.
[They are those absurd things called human cultivator clans or sects, little brother.]
"Is that so?"
If nothing else, that spiritual root thing is pretty fascinating. She clearly said it isn't an organ that materially exists inside, so how the hell does it get passed down?
"By any chance, are they strong? Do they even have people in the Three Extremes realm?"
[I loathe to admit it, but yes.]
A mocking laugh laced with irritation came from Ryeo-ah. Within it resided pure arrogance. It was mixed with a cruel sadism, like a master wondering how best to cook a head of livestock that dared bare its blunt teeth to make it scream the loudest.
[Hmph. Compared to Yokai, they are merely creatures that enjoy less than half our lifespan before perishing. Because you are a Goblin, you might not know, but considering a tortoise Yokai in the Core Formation realm lives past four hundred years, one can catch a glimpse of their inferiority—dying at a mere seven hundred even after hitting the Three Extremes realm.]
"Oh dear."
The humans of this world haven't overcome the limitations of lifespan either, then. Come to think of it, they seemed pretty good at making transformation spells using sorcery; can't they transform into some microorganism that lives for hundreds of millions of years?
[Wait, what? A creature that lives for hundreds of millions of years exists? Are you mocking me?]
"Ah. This is what you call Earth's biological science."
Well, what reason would they have to measure the lifespans of things invisible to the naked eye? It was the human scholars who relentlessly sought out such things to count their age that were strange. Anyway, back to the topic.
[But even so, the population of even those half-wits capable of cultivation is extremely small. Since breeding has its limits, it was decided to raise guard dogs. Bestowed upon them so they could offer at least a modicum of resistance before the Yokai.]
A form of cultivation—or rather, training—that could be performed even without a spiritual root. Compared to true immortal arts, it was endlessly crude, but it was still an ability capable of gathering at least a bare minimum of miracles. What was born from that was martial arts, and the martial artists, and their collective gathering was called the Murim.
A mountain where the flora of martial arts bloomed abundantly. Honestly, my heart throbbed slightly at that part, but Ryeo-ah's evaluation was thoroughly scathing.
[A pathetic bastard child. A failure. Merely a deformed fingernail that sprouted. How could the Murim, an imitation of an imitation, possibly stand against the Yokai? They are creatures that find it a struggle merely to hold back the cannon fodder of the Core Formation realm.]
"Then it shouldn't be a problem."
That was the answer from the old-timer Ryeo-ah, who had lived and seen far more than me. She was rarely wrong, but things always tended to go slightly awry at times like this. Should I prepare at least a little bit?
"What I can do right now is..."
Cultivation-wise, I was still in the period of consolidating my foundation, so it was too early to hit the Through-Cloud stage, and Jung-ha was still far from reaching it either, so... perhaps So-wol?
So-wol was also a case of luckily being born with a spiritual root. That was why she had secured the position of an exclusive servant at a young age. Calling it an exclusive servant might make it sound insignificant, but it was a tremendous status to the slaves within Night Demon City. Because slaves lived in symbiosis with the fear of not knowing when or how they might be slaughtered like pigs. The subtly arrogant attitude she showed during our first meeting might have stemmed from that kind of inferiority complex. Though she's just my cum-dumpster now.
"Since they said there's still a bit of time before deployment, maybe I should train So-wol and Jung-ha a bit."
Good. Having calculated the time and schedule until deployment, I headed straight to my newly relocated house.
"You have arrived, Warrior Master."
"Yeah."
The gatekeepers welcomed me from the entrance of the pavilion. This was inside the manor owned by Kang Ha-yeon. She stayed here with her subordinates or individuals from her faction whom she deemed truly important. But don't go imagining some concrete chicken coop like an apartment. The civilization of this world was medieval, but the scale was absurdly massive; though called a residential manor, its size exceeded that of an average village. Right now, I alone was given an entire pavilion. A seven-story one at that. Noona had given Jung-ha a house and a cave estate as well since she hit the Qi Circulation realm, but they were basically rotting away unused. We sleep in the same bed every single day anyway, so what reason is there to run a dual-core household?
And right ahead was the training ground. Not a hidden place like a cave estate where one secretly cultivates immortal arts, but literally a place to unleash the fruits of what one has learned. Important milestones like breaking through realms were attempted not in a training ground, but by tightly locking the doors of a cave estate and plastering it with talismans.
And right now.
In the middle of the desolate training ground, standing atop the remains of a scarecrow, something shrieked.
"Eeeeeeek!! Why the hell?!"
That wasn't a sound I made. It wasn't Jung-ha either. Jung-ha might whine and complain when irritated, but she didn't look up at the sky and bellow so pathetically. That left only So-wol...
There was a very tragic story behind this.
'Master. Please give me some spirit elixirs.'
'All of a sudden? Well, sure. Eat up. I've got plenty of pills for the Core Formation stage anyway.'
'Hehe, thank you.'
Ever since I obtained the Dharma artifact and renewed my contract with Noona, So-wol had been exceptionally fired up about cultivation. Once even Jung-ha hit the Qi Circulation realm and I became something entirely beyond it, a sense of urgency or impatience began to fester deep within her heart. She had wailed to me at my pillow that if things continued like this, she would become truly useless, unlike the old days when she was at least a little help when taking down Jeon Gu-seok. She feared becoming a cum-dumpster in the truest sense of the word—one whose sole purpose was pleasing a cock with her pussy.
So, well, I helped her out diligently. Just as I had done, I showered her with spirit elixirs, allowing her to easily reach the late stage of Core Formation. Though it was a question whether this could even be called Core Formation, since she was a half-blood she had managed to create something resembling an internal core, but anyway. Pills meant for the Core Formation stage were things someone like me, positioned at the absolute peak of the Qi Circulation realm, could obtain as much as I wanted.
But that was it. If she wished to look toward a realm beyond that, she couldn't rely solely on spirit elixirs.
'Master. Just one Qi Circulation Pill... I'll serve you properly in bed today... Pretty please. Just once.'
'Master, I intend to change my cultivation method. Please lend me the manual you obtained from killing those Qi Circulation realm fighters last time.'
'Master. I've hit a wall in my cultivation, do you happen to know what I should do about this...'
And like that, five years passed.
However.
She.
Was still.
"Hraaaaaaa! Oh, heavens!"
She was still stuck in that exact state. If she had shown at least some progress the more Qi Circulation Pills she consumed, much like the me of the Core Formation days, it would be a different story, but she couldn't even see the path. So-wol seemed to have put in more effort than I did. Not that I didn't put in effort; I ran forward thinking a sword was at my throat, but I didn't go to that extreme.
"Hraaaaaaa!"
Mhm, excessive training truly breaks the mind. I didn't know because I constantly relieved my stress by alternating between sex and cultivation, though.
"No! After doing this much, even if I can't immediately ascend to the Qi Circulation realm, shouldn't I at least catch a clue?!"
The problem was exactly that. No matter how much she cultivated or consumed pills, no progress was visible. If there was even a inkling of improvement, it would be fine, but at best she was running in place, and sometimes it actually felt like she was regressing.
"Is the servant still acting like that?"
"Yeah."
"Every individual is born with a divine mandate and a limit. Life would be so much easier if she just quietly submitted to it, the servant is just making herself suffer... Ouch! Why did you hit me?!"
"Use pretty words, pretty words."
"...You literally shout about pussies and orgasms on the bed, so why are you policing me... Argh! Why did you hit me again?!"
"Just because."
When she put it like that, there wasn't much I could say either. So-wol worked hard. However, she only knew how to work hard; she didn't know how to do it efficiently. To put it bluntly, she lacked talent. She possessed the Five Spiritual Roots, which was considered the absolute worst among all spiritual root attributes, and on top of that, her comprehension—the flashing spark of inspiration—was also severely lacking.
A realm that refused to advance further, as if this was her limit. Even at this very moment, the gap between her and us, who were sipping tea and snacking in the pavilion, was widening further. That feeling was likely something quite difficult to fathom unless one was in her shoes.
"Ryeo-ah."
[There is nothing I can do even if you speak to me. There are plenty of grand secret arts to alter one's aptitude or spiritual roots, but they are not things that can be performed right now.]
"Hmm."
We had tried changing her manuals to various kinds, and my advice to try meditating under a waterfall just in case hadn't worked either, so all that was left...
"How about trying a different discipline entirely?"
"Huh?"
"Diving into a minor genre. Like puppetry, talismans, Dharma artifact production, or turning into a necromancer, roughly shifting her career path toward that direction?"
[It will be meaningless.]
"Why?"
Ryeo-ah's answer was brutal.
[It is not that she is bad at archery, but rather that she is a child whose sole talent lies in swinging the bow itself like a club. What is the point of teaching her anything? Even if you place a spear or a saber in her hands, she will fail to comprehend the very concepts of thrusting and slashing, and simply club things all the same.]
"...Is it that severe?"
[That is precisely why you, and I, are extraordinary. Because we were chosen. Unlike that thing.]
Ryeo-ah said it wasn't a matter of talent, but a problem of birth. Just as a lizard could never comprehend multiplication and division, it was simply natural. She said clothes that didn't fit the body were bound to rip.
"Poor So-wol. I don't even know how to comfort her regarding this."
Saying things like 'Do you know how many Goblins die without even reaching the Qi Circulation realm?' obviously wouldn't serve as comfort. What we needed wasn't comfort, but a solution and a vision.
"A half-blood..."
How much Goblin blood actually flowed through So-wol's veins? Seeing So-wol lingering in place and clutching her head like that, an inkling of anxiety began to fester in my mind.
Lifespan. Any life that walked upon the earth was bound to inevitably return to the dirt. As if having to pay the price for treading upon the land and receiving its blessings.
Jung-ha and I were pure-blooded Goblins in the Qi Circulation realm. Since we were at the Qi Circulation realm, we enjoyed a lifespan comparable to the history of a dynasty. But how long could So-wol live?
If she failed to reach the Qi Circulation realm at this rate, our parting would approach far faster than expected. While we would continue to advance toward a realm akin to immortals who summoned winds, called down rains, and shattered mountains, her skin would lose its luster and gradually wrinkle. So-wol might already be feeling that unfillable illusion—as if time was flowing heavily biased toward only one side.
Ah, thinking like this makes my head hurt again. That pretty little cum-dumpster was ultimately my woman too, and I didn't want to watch her wither away, pushed around by mere time. A narrative focusing on the tragedy between long-lived and short-lived species didn't fit my genre.
"Ryeo-ah. You said it's possible to alter aptitude or spiritual roots eventually, right?"
[It is possible.]
"When exactly will that be possible?"
[It will be possible once I recover to the Harmony realm. Though even then, a specific spiritual material would be required.]
"Oh boy."
But well, what else could I do? I had to do it. Once you've gripped something in your hand, shouldn't you hold onto it tightly until it crumbles and scatters away?
I pressed my thumb against my forehead, watching So-wol flail her limbs and throw a tantrum in the middle of the training ground, letting out groans. Ah, fuck. I have a ridiculous amount of shit to do.
"This old man ranks eighty-eighth among the Hundred Seats of the Murim! I am the Soul-Devouring Old Master, Wi Gu-jeok... Hraaaaaak!"
"Just die!"
I stroked my chin, watching So-wol brutally beat up a martial artist—some old man from the Hundred Seats of the Murim or whatever. Soon after, I patted the head of So-wol, who had dragged the Soul-Devouring-whatever over by his hair after beating him like a dog, and asked.
"By any chance, are there multiple Murims? Like a First Murim and a Second Murim?"
There's no way an old man who gets wrecked even by So-wol ranks eighty-eighth among martial artists. No way, that makes absolutely no sense, the martial arts fanboy inside me was throwing a fit. However, what the Soul-Devouring Old Master—an old man whose nickname made him sound incredibly overpowered—said was more than enough to completely slaughter my Murim fantasies.
"The Murim is one! Though it borders multiple nations, its autonomy is recognized purely through strength alone! It is a place where the Great Grandmasters of martial arts tread! Even though I fall to Yokai in this remote region, if the Ten Great Grandmasters of the Realm step forward, you Yokai will all be..."
"Uh, yeah. Thanks for the answer."
Hmm. The Murim is completely fucked.
I seriously began to think that someone on So-wol's level could probably go toe-to-toe not with the Heavenly Demon, but at least with the Sword Demon or someone similar.