Chapter 11
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: A 17-Year Grudge
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With murderous eyes, Mujin offered a smile.
“Yes. It has been a while, Aunt.”
As his smiling face seemed to overlap with the face of her sister, which she thought she had forgotten, Bu Choyeon’s eye twitched.
“For the sake of our family ties, I will ask one last time. Must you go through with this duel?”
Her concerned expression and loud question, meant for the crowd to hear, filled Mujin with the urge to tear off her mask-like face.
Just as he expected, whispers began to ripple through the surroundings.
They had been completely taken in by Bu Choyeon’s words, which framed the Yeomhwa Family as the ones who had initiated this confrontation.
‘The way she runs that insolent mouth reminds me of the dogs from the Nine Great Sects.’
Mujin had never been fond of fighting with words, even in his past life.
Why waste breath talking when he had a sword that was faster and better?
But he also disliked being dragged along by Bu Choyeon’s transparent ploys.
“I cannot stand by and watch our secret arts be stolen, so I have no choice but to fight, do I?”
At his words, the crowd began to stir once more.
The martial artists, armed with weapons and watching from the front rows, were particularly agitated.
To a martial artist, their secret arts were something to be protected at all costs.
They were more precious than life itself.
Coveting another’s secret arts was an unforgivable act in the Orthodox Murim.
Bu Choyeon, having failed in her petty scheme and lost the upper hand, furrowed her brow.
“You’re saying things that will cause a misunderstanding. Our disagreement runs so deep, it seems it will not be easily resolved.”
With that, she glared at the murmuring crowd, silencing them, before quickly introducing the martial artist in a black uniform standing beside her.
“This is the esteemed Han, the Gallant Sword from the Kongtong Sect, who will serve as the witness for this duel. Pay your respects.”
At her introduction, all eyes turned to the Taoist in the black uniform who stepped forward.
He was a sharp-eyed Taoist who appeared to be in his early to mid-thirties.
“I am Han Yigang of the Kongtong Sect. My Taoist name is Jeong Do-rip. I will be serving as the witness for the duel between you and my junior.”
Mujin took a step forward, facing the Taoist who exuded an aura as sharp as a sword.
“Hwa Mujin, Head of the Yeomhwa Family.”
Han Yigang’s eyebrow twitched as Mujin spoke without even offering a fist-and-palm salute.
The Orthodox Factions generally shared a seniority system, so seeing such a young junior act so arrogantly was not a pleasant sight.
However, his opponent was still the head of a martial family.
To call him out on it would be a blow to his own dignity.
Besides, the Kongtong Sect had ignored the Yeomhwa Family’s pleas for help on several occasions.
“Ahem! I hope this will be a fair duel with no casualties.”
With those words, the Taoist retreated with a stiff expression.
-He is a first-generation disciple of the Kongtong Sect.
A telepathic message arrived belatedly from Chief Steward Do, but Mujin completely ignored it.
His pride would not allow him to bow his head to some young pup.
Why should he bow to a young whelp when men who were his martial uncles had knelt and died before him?
As he finally stepped forward, Cheong Bodo approached from a distance.
“I have been counting the days until today.”
“What a coincidence. To think we had the same idea.”
At Mujin’s words, Cheong Bodo’s face, which transparently showed his emotions due to his simple nature, twisted into a scowl.
“Today, I will sever our 17-year-long ill-fated connection completely.”
“I wonder. I don’t think our ill-fated connection is something that can be severed by you alone.”
-Clang!
Perhaps deciding that exchanging words would only raise his blood pressure, Cheong Bodo drew his sword with a flourish.
“A fine sword. It has met the wrong master.”
With that, Mujin grabbed the iron sword from his back and tossed it into the air.
As the cloth wrapped around the spinning iron sword unraveled, Mujin snatched the hilt.
“The sword arts of the Yeomhwa Family?”
“I’ve seen Yeomhwa Family warriors carry swords, but isn’t the Flame Emperor an unarmed combatant?”
The crowd murmured as they watched Mujin stand with the massive iron sword.
The Flame Emperor was a master of powerful martial arts.
His Red Flame Arts, with which he incinerated his foes bare-handed, were renowned in Sichuan.
It was only natural for people to be curious when the Flame Emperor’s grandson drew such a ridiculously large iron sword.
“Hmph! Come at me!”
Mujin beckoned with his finger at the spiritedly shouting Cheong Bodo.
“You come at me. It’s customary for the weaker one to attack first.”
Cheong Bodo’s face flushed with anger at his words, and he seethed.
“Masok. Did the Young Master… train with that heavy sword?”
Masok answered Chief Steward Do’s question, his eyes fixed on Mujin.
“Yes. Don’t even ask. You wouldn’t believe how lightly he swings that heavy thing. Of course, I never got a proper look… He’s starting!”
Masok cried out as Cheong Bodo charged toward Mujin, his sword’s afterimages multiplying.
A swift and domineering sword path, truly befitting a swordsman of the Kongtong Sect.
‘The Seven Wounds Sword. It’s been a while.’
In truth, to call it ‘a while’ was an exaggeration; for him, it felt like a matter of mere months.
After all, in Mujin’s perception of time, it had only been a few months since his past life, where he had slaughtered all the Taoists in black uniforms who dared to stand in his way.
“Young Master!!”
Masok screamed as Mujin remained unresponsive, even with Cheong Bodo closing in, his sword swinging.
Chief Steward Do couldn’t bear to watch Mujin’s final moments and squeezed his eyes shut.
At that instant, Mujin took a step forward and belatedly extended his sword.
-Nine Swords of Dugu, First Form. Leading Sword Stance.
-Fwoosh!
Cheong Bodo felt a sensation as if a storm had erupted and was swallowing him whole.
His sword, which had moved first, should have been slicing through the arrogant madman’s neck, yet it never reached its target.
The brutish iron sword felt as massive as a great mountain, blocking his own.
-Clang!
The moment his sword clashed with the incoming iron sword, a jolt ran up his arm, and pain shot all the way to his shoulder.
‘What is this…’
Seeing the iron sword drive toward his neck, he hastily executed a footwork technique to retreat.
The moment he retreated, Mujin smiled.
As he fell back, Cheong Bodo channeled his internal energy, unleashing the essence of the Seven Wounds Sword.
In response, Mujin charged toward him, swinging the iron sword.
-Nine Swords of Dugu, Second Form. Weapon-Breaking Stance.
‘No matter the weapon of the opponent, I shall break it all.’
-Clang! Clang! Clang!
He parried left and right, but the iron sword’s momentum didn’t falter; instead, it pressed forward with even greater ferocity.
‘How can such a martial art exist in this world…’
-Slice.
Before he could finish his thought, the iron sword thrust forward with ferocious momentum, severing Cheong Bodo’s right shoulder.
-Thud.
Cheong Bodo’s eyes glazed over as he blankly watched his own right arm fall to the ground.
“Bodo!!!”
Startled by his mother’s cry, he turned his dazed eyes toward her, just as the Taoist’s shout rang out.
“Dodge it!!!”
At the Taoist’s shout, who was rushing toward him, he turned his gaze forward again, only to see the flat of a sword flying at him with tremendous force.
-CRACK!
Struck in the abdomen by the flat of Mujin’s sword, Cheong Bodo flew backward like a puppet with its strings cut.
‘A good sound.’
Mujin smiled at the sensation and sound transmitted through his sword.
The sound and feeling of a martial artist’s dantian shattering always pleased him.
Mujin always relished this moment—the moment he stole what his enemies had built their entire lives, plunging them into despair.
-Pffft!
Watching the blood spray from Cheong Bodo’s mouth as he soared through the air, Mujin took a step back.
-Thump.
The Taoist, after staunching the bleeding from Cheong Bodo’s arm as he collapsed to the ground, quickly checked his pulse and dantian.
“Bodo!”
As she belatedly approached and looked down at her only son, the Taoist shook his head at her.
“His dantian has been shattered.”
At his words, she collapsed to the ground as if her strength had left her.
A silence fell over the area for a moment before the murmuring began to grow louder.
“To defeat a lay disciple of the Kongtong Sect in just a few moves!”
“I’ve never seen or heard of such a sword art!”
“My goodness… they said he was mad. Is he completely cured?”
“The birth of a new master.”
Everyone was chattering, their eyes fixed on Mujin, unable to look away.
-Grab.
“I’ll be taking this arm as payment for the grudge from 17 years ago. The Cheonghwa Merchant Guild might just find a divine physician to reattach it, after all.”
At Mujin’s words, the Kongtong Taoist furrowed his brow.
“Was it necessary to go this far?”
“What do you mean?”
“The difference in skill was obvious. You didn’t have to…”
“Was it really necessary to use the Seven Wounds Fist on the head of a five-year-old child who knew no martial arts?”
The Taoist was at a loss for words at Mujin’s unabashedly informal speech.
“I’m asking if it was really necessary to do that to a child. And was it really necessary to ignore a child who suffered seizures from the Seven Wounds energy?”
The Taoist could not offer a single word in rebuttal to the subsequent questions.
Walking past the Taoist, Mujin approached Bu Choyeon, who was sitting on the ground, weeping.
“This is merely settling the score for a 17-year-old grudge. You will be held accountable for daring to speak of my two younger siblings’ lives, Aunt.”
At his words, Bu Choyeon looked up at Mujin with venomous eyes.
“The price for picking a fight with a martial family will not be light.”
With those final words, Mujin turned away.
Bu Choyeon could do nothing but watch his retreating back.
“Y-Young Master…”
Having opened his eyes to the sight of a spurting, dismembered Cheong Bodo flying through the air, Chief Steward Do stared at the approaching Mujin in disbelief.
“Let’s go back.”
“Yes? Ah, yes!”
Chief Steward Do followed behind Mujin, bewildered.
He tilted his head as he looked at Mujin’s back, which seemed to have a completely different air about it.
‘Has the Young Master’s back always been this broad?’
Masok’s voice broke him out of his reverie.
“Young Master! You showed great restraint! I really thought a major incident was about to happen.”
Masok’s words filled Chief Steward Do’s mind with questions.
‘Restraint? What did he restrain? Does he mean he held back by not killing him?’
As if to answer his question, Mujin spoke.
“Did you really think I was going to beat that Taoist to a pulp? I’m a man with a plan.”
At Mujin’s words, Masok nodded vigorously, trying to stay on his good side.
“Of course! Of course! You did very well!”
‘If he had talked back even once, I was planning to cut off both his legs.’
Unaware of Mujin’s thoughts, Masok continued to praise him enthusiastically.
He couldn’t help but be excited after seeing the mother and son from the thieving Cheonghwa Merchant Guild, who had been pressuring the Yeomhwa Family and coveting their secret arts, get their comeuppance.
How much humiliation had they suffered at the hands of that pair?
Masok recalled the years of persecution, how Bu Choyeon, who had been so cautious and full of flattery when the previous Family Head and his wife were alive, had started making all sorts of excuses to demand their secret arts after they died.
“But, what if they come back for revenge?”
“What do you mean, what if? I’ll cut off all their heads, send them to the Kongtong Sect that acted as a witness, and demand compensation. I’d actually prefer that. It would help with our financial troubles a bit.”
Pulled from his thoughts by Mujin’s words, Chief Steward Do was about to call out to him when Mujin spoke first.
“Chief Steward Do.”
“Yes?!”
“About that thing.”
“Th-that thing, you say…”
‘Could it be that he knew?’
A cold sweat trickled down his back.
“Ahem! I mean the gold I entrusted to you.”
“Ah, yes!”
“Is it all gone?”
“How could that be?”
“Really? But the meat has been quite tough lately.”
At his words, Chief Steward Do didn’t know what to say.
He couldn’t very well admit that he had prioritized giving money to the family members who needed to leave and establish themselves elsewhere over the meals of a Young Master who was expected to die soon.