Murim Troubleshooter Dan Mujin

Chapter 66: Ruining a Perfectly Set Table

The second son of the great Murong Clan that dominated Liaoning Province, Murong Hui.

Taking after his father, he was cold and indifferent in all things, and when it came to matters concerning the clan, he was a man who wouldn’t hesitate to use any means necessary.

Unlike Murong Cheon, who at least pretended to be benevolent due to his long-standing position as Clan Leader, Murong Hui wielded both power and youth. Consequently, like many scions of prestigious families, he was also imbued with arrogance.

“What the hell is so great about that bastard that my sister’s wasting her time in a place like this?”

He began speaking to Murong Cheonghye as if to snap her out of it.

But who the hell was that bastard he was referring to? Surely, he didn’t mean me?

“What do you mean, ‘that bastard’? Mind your tongue. He was still your junior. Murong Hui.”

Damn it, so it really was me.

Murong Cheonghye joining the Demon-Slaying Unit because of me—what the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Is this some sort of guilt complex? Does punishing evil really make you feel any better?”

“…Enough.”

Murong Cheonghye looked visibly tired of this, as if they’d argued about it more than once, trying to avoid the topic altogether.

But Murong Hui, eager to bring her back into the family fold, was relentlessly persistent.

“You’re the one who took on the task in the first place, Sister. And you carried it out yourself. Why do something this meaningless…”

“I said, enough…!”

Murong Cheonghye finally lost her temper and shouted.

The sudden outburst caused the entire building to fall silent, as if a mouse had died.

She was known for her gentle demeanor, so long as the person wasn’t evil, which made the unexpected scream even more startling to the other members.

“…It’s always like this. You’ve always been so cold to me, Sister. Never once raised your voice at him.”

And the eyes of Murong Hui held a grudge that had festered for years.

Meeting that gaze head-on, Murong Cheonghye’s expression briefly filled with pain before she shook her head furiously.

“It’s not like that… Huu. That’s enough. I’m busy, so I’ll be going now. Don’t follow me.”

Her expression was one of deep conflict, full of things left unsaid, but she swallowed it down and left.

Her expression turned cold. Murong Hui, left behind, clenched his fists so tightly they made a cracking sound.

“…Ha!”

Thus passed a storm of emotion inside the Demon-Slaying Unit.

“What was that all about, Boss?”

Ilhong leaned in close and whispered.

It wasn’t that he expected an answer; it just seemed like a genuinely curious question.

But ironically, it was asked to the one person who actually knew the full story.

“……”

A swirl of emotions churned inside my chest. My body trembled and my lips itched to speak, but pretending not to care was the only right move here.

I tried to quietly fade away, but my eyes met Murong Hui’s, who had yet to cool his rage.

“What are you guys supposed to be? Why are you so intently eavesdropping on someone else’s family matter?”

Someone else’s family matter? I couldn’t reveal it, but this was my family matter too.

And we weren’t eavesdropping—you barged in while we were already having a conversation.

“We were the ones talking first, actually.”

“And you are?”

He stared straight into my eyes and asked who I was.

The Murong Cheongjin inside me, long used to being cowed by that sharp gaze, almost shrank away. But not with me, Dan Wonjun, who had weathered every storm.

“I’m Dan Mujin of the Seven Fate, Three Chivalry.”

I met his eyes without flinching as I spoke. Murong Hui repeated my name, thought for a moment, then let out a scoff.

“Hmph. So you’re that pathetic wanderer my sister never stops praising.”

So he did know me. That tone carried a tinge of jealousy, and his gaze was filled with disdain.

What a rude and discourteous fellow to act like this upon first meeting. Then again, this bastard was always like that.

“My sister’s biggest flaw is being too kind. She praises a petty thief who steals her honor as if it’s some great virtue.”

He was muttering under his breath, but clearly loud enough for me to hear. This guy still only cared about his own family and gave zero shits about anyone else.

But there was a woman beside me with a temperament that wouldn’t tolerate such abuse.

“You son of a bitch. I’ve been listening, but you really don’t know when to shut the fuck up. Where the hell did you leave your manners, huh?”

Tang Yeo-hye stepped forward, her jade-green eyes blazing menacingly.

She’d been hidden behind my tall frame until now, and only then did Murong Hui notice her and raise an eyebrow.

“…Miss of the Venom Valley?”

“Miss, my ass. Call me Heroine. You think we’re friends, motherfucker?”

Indeed, she was as indifferent to public reputation as ever—very much the rabid dog of the Righteous Sect.

Older, a senior in the Murim, and from a family no less noble, Tang Yeo-hye was also a Peak Master Level martial artist. Her scolding made Murong Hui bite his lip hard.

“Ahem, I didn’t know Senior was here.”

“Yeah, I’ve been here the whole damn time, you moron. And what’s with that eavesdropping bullshit? We were here first, talking. Dumbass.”

As expected of the Righteous Sect’s rabid dog—only greater aggression could answer such insolence.

And there was nothing more reassuring than knowing such a lunatic was on our side.

“What I said wasn’t directed at you. And please watch your language. For a so-called heroine of the Righteous Sect, your mouth is absolutely filthy…”

“Filthy, my ass. Don’t start shit in the first place, you fucking pus-oozing maggot.”

“…Huh.”

Wow. She actually held back when talking to me.

How could someone from the Righteous Sect act like this? It was like facing a foul-mouthed thug from the back alleys of the Evil Sect.

I bet everyone else here was thinking the exact same thing.

“Hah. I was wondering what made you so cocky. You.”

Slapped in Jongno and glaring in Hangang, as they say.

Ignoring the unmanageable Tang Yeo-hye, Murong Hui now fixed his gaze on me.

Seeing that enraged glare felt oddly nostalgic. Back when I was Murong Cheongjin, even locking eyes with him would provoke this look—it was all too familiar.

“You. I really hope I meet you at the martial arts tournament. So I can expose that luck-fueled skill of yours in front of everyone.”

He ground his teeth and practically declared he’d tear down my alias, making it even less than Woon-goo-ilhyup.

“What the hell are you talking about? He’s a damn good fighter. For all you know, you might get your ass kicked, dumbass.”

Tang Yeo-hye tapped my shoulder a few times, casually provoking him as someone who had seen me fight plenty of times.

“…Tch. Just wait and see, you vagabond bastard.”

Grinding his teeth, he glared at me one last time before turning on his heel and storming out of the Demon-Slaying Unit building.

Only then did peace return, and people scattered to resume their duties.

“Father and son—both batshit insane, one after the other.”

Yesterday, Murong Cheon turned my insides upside down, and today his son was making my blood boil.

I really didn’t want to get tangled with them again, but what could I call this if not bad luck? Despite changing both my identity and face, I ended up getting dragged back into their mess.

‘Salsung, this isn’t because of you, right?’

‘Annihilation!’

Heaven-Slaying Star suggested we kill them all, asking if I wasn’t pissed. Yeah, that was my bad for even asking.

Clink.

The hefty weight of the coin pouch filled my palm.

A pretty steep price for collecting money.

What a tumultuous day it had been.

Amidst the fervor of the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament sweeping across Sichuan, I made my way toward a location that was as crowded as the martial arts arena itself.

A building within the Murim Alliance where, the moment I stepped in, the noise was enough to make my ears ring.

This was none other than the Central Plains’ legal gambling den, where once every few years, a massive amount of money changed hands and unbelievable brokerage fees were collected.

"I bet ten silver coins on Murong Hui of the Murong Clan!"

"Then I’ll put five silver coins on Tang Yeo-hye of the Venom Valley!"

"What? The Blue Cloud Sword of the Namgung Clan isn’t participating? Fucking hell!"

The atmosphere here was much like a racetrack before the race began.

I checked the odds posted on the display board and the amount of money I had in my coin pouch.

Counting the money I had exchanged from the dagger, some scraps from the Poison-Hoarding Fiend’s bounty, and my share from the Flesh-Eating Ghost, I had about thirty-five silver coins total.

To think I was holding this much gold in my hands. It was an amount I’d never even touched before.

But if I let it sit, gold wouldn’t multiply by itself. I had to increase it through investment.

"Boss, who are you betting on?"

"Not sure yet, I’m still checking the odds."

At the top of the list with the highest winning rate was one named the Little Thunder Sword, Murong Hui.

Although Jo Harang had recently awakened to the Peak Master Level, she wasn’t well-known to the general public. Only a few were aware of her skill.

"Since the Blue Cloud Sword dropped out, everyone’s assuming Murong Hui will win anyway. Are you going to bet safely on him too, Boss?"

"Ha, damn it..."

The second son of the Murong Clan with overwhelming win rates.

Sure, there was Tang Yeo-hye too, but martial artists who used poison were always at a disadvantage in martial arts tournaments.

They couldn’t kill, which limited the poisons they could use, and weaker poisons were easily neutralized by experts.

So she was planning to fight while sealing off her signature Tang Clan hidden weapons and a few of her tools.

"You there, little brother. That coin pouch looks hefty! Who are you betting on and how much?"

A middle-aged man flicking an abacus approached as it was my turn to place a bet.

Seeing that I seemed hesitant, he pointed at the betting board and said:

"If you’re unsure, just bet on the Little Thunder Sword. Even the Clan Leader Murong Cheon came all the way to the Murim Alliance—looks like they’re dead certain of his victory."

No kidding. Seeing him in person, he looked absolutely convinced his son would win.

It seemed he had no doubt Murong Hui would elevate the Murong Clan’s name.

‘And why does that make my stomach churn so much?’

Just thinking that those who would discard their own kin for convenience might win and rejoice—it made something boil inside me.

I was once your son too.

"Hmm, still struggling to decide?"

He glanced between my martial arts uniform and my long staff, then offered another option.

"If you like, you can even bet on yourself. Make it to the round of 16, and if you guess your placement right, you could strike it rich!"

Round of 16, huh. I shook my head at such a low bar.

I aimed higher than that.

I wanted to see Murong Cheon and Murong Hui’s faces twist in agony, simultaneously.

Not Jo Harang, not Tang Yeo-hye, but by me—Murong Cheongjin, the coldly discarded child.

But the question was, was that even possible?

Sure, I’d gained insight into the Peak Master Level, and I had internal energy to match.

But my realm was still First Rate. I couldn’t coat my weapon with qi, so the moment my Dog-Beating Staff touched sword qi, it would likely be sliced clean in half.

I rubbed my chin, lost in thought.

And then someone scratched out an answer to my dilemma in writing.

‘Possible.’

It was the Murderous Star, emanating a red aura.

I waited to see if a 'Not' would be added in front, but that was all.

In short, it was possible.

It was a declaration of my chances from none other than the Heaven-Slaying Star.

"Boss, if you're unsure, why not go with your original thought and bet on Lady Jo Harang?"

Ilhong, trying to steer me away from gambling by encouraging a safe bet on someone with higher odds.

But I had already made up my mind to take the gamble of a lifetime. Otherwise, I wouldn’t sleep a wink out of frustration.

I slammed the heavy coin pouch with thirty-five silver coins onto the table.

That drew attention—people began watching intently to see what kind of choice I’d make.

"I’ll place half of this on Jo Harang of the Small Scalpel Blade."

There were murmurs of surprise when I boldly bet on Jo Harang, a First Rate Martial Artist.

People started asking around for information, wondering if someone knew her.

"And the other half... on myself, Dan Mujin of the Seven Fate, Three Chivalry."

With those words, I poured the remaining silver coins before the middle-aged man.

"What? Seven Fate, Three Chivalry? Anyone heard of him?"

"He’s not even on the board. Who the hell is this guy?"

"Oh, you know, that First Rate Wanderer who supposedly landed the finishing blow on the Soul-Stealing Demon Lord."

"Ah, that guy was him?"

One of the gamblers apparently knew and began spilling the details.

Some even speculated I might barely scrape into the round of 16.

"What round are you aiming for?"

The middle-aged man asked as he got ready to jot it down.

I pointed at the very top of the sheet and said:

"Champion."

There was a moment of stunned silence, then snorts and laughter broke out.

"Pah! This one’s insane!"

"And a rich lunatic at that. Even if you’re confident in your skills, come on."

"Winning a tournament where top-class experts gather, and you’re just First Rate? Pfft!"

Jeers and mockery flew from all directions.

But I ignored them and asked the man:

"That gives me high odds, right?"

"...Not just high. They’re practically piercing the sky."

Should I be happy about that? Apparently, no one had placed a bet on me.

"Boss, will you be alright...? I know you’re a brilliant martial artist, but..."

I suppose he meant even I might not be able to beat Murong Hui. But I had a secret weapon.

Who was I? Murong Cheongjin.

The Murong Clan’s movement technique, sword technique, heart cultivation method—thanks to Murong Cheonghye demonstrating martial arts before the Heaven-Slaying Star, I had mastered them all.

And not just by watching—my life had been in danger, and I had experienced that sword technique firsthand.

It was etched deep into my very being.

"Life’s all about taking a shot anyway."

Besides, didn’t the Heaven-Slaying Star hint that there was a way?

On top of that, the small clue toward the Peak Master Level I had gleaned while guiding Jo Harang’s enlightenment—I saw not a huge chance, but not a small one either.

"And both father and son provoked me over two days."

They specifically picked me out, even though I tried not to draw attention.

With that level of provocation, backing down would make me less of a man.

I wanted to see with my own eyes how they would rage over the child they had cast aside.

So let’s go ahead and make this move.

"Hey, that dumbass is actually betting for real?"

"He wasn’t joking? Damn, what a waste. He could’ve just lent me that money."

Those who had bet on the Little Thunder Sword, Murong Hui—I was going to drain their wallets dry.

And Murong Cheon, whatever you were plotting behind this tournament…

Heaven-Slaying Star and I were going to wreck it all.