Murim Troubleshooter Dan Mujin

Chapter 69: Murim Alliance Conference

After hearing the suspicious tale from the inspector, Murong Cheonghye issued an order to the Demon-Slaying Unit.

It was to conduct a full background investigation on every participant in the finals of the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament.

As a result, they discovered one particularly suspicious individual.

‘Diamond Fist, Hyesung, was it?’

Despite his young age, he had already reached the level of a First Rate Martial Artist nearing Peak Master Level, and had been a promising talent even in Shaolin Temple—but the Murim Alliance had received news that he had recently gone missing.

So they were hurriedly preparing wanted posters when he suddenly showed up at the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament and was participating in the duel?

‘Of all times, why now—and he’s going up against Troubleshooter Dan Mujin, who’s being targeted by that group……!’

Something felt off. Her intuition, honed from slaying countless evildoers, was ringing alarms.

And according to the report, there were even testimonies that he had emitted Qi Projection during the previous preliminary round.

Someone who was just a First Rate Martial Artist until recently couldn’t reach Peak Master Level that easily.

Therefore, there was a possibility that the Hyesung currently participating in the duel was not the Hyesung everyone knew.

And so, feeling an overwhelming sense of unease, she hurried her steps.

“Ah, Jo Harang sojeo!”

She didn’t know why, but she didn’t want to witness that sohyeop—who had once called her noona—die.

So she was on her way to the duel arena when she happened to encounter the woman wielding the great blade who often stuck by him in the waiting room.

“Huh? Vice Captain Murong Cheonghye?”

Jo Harang, surprised to see the Vice Captain of the Demon-Slaying Unit pop out from the waiting room, widened her eyes and asked again.

“Where is Troubleshooter Dan Mujin? Is he safe?!”

Looking puzzled for a moment at the question, Jo Harang soon nodded and replied.

“Yes, he’s in the middle of the duel right now.”

“Ah, that’s a relief. Then I must barge in immediately and rescue him…….”

“Huh? I don’t know what’s going on, but there’s no need to rescue him, you know?”

Saying so, Jo Harang lifted the entrance flap of the waiting tent.

And there, the duel arena came into view at once.

“……Huh?”

For reasons unknown, the wandering martial artist Dan Mujin was pummeling Hyesung—who was registered as a Peak Master Level martial artist—one-sidedly.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

“Knees! Shins! Backs of the knees!”

“Gaaack!”

Swinging his cudgel gleefully, Dan Mujin focused on Hyesung’s lower body as if to prevent him from fleeing.

The impacts sounded like he was beating a dog, and he was demanding answers.

“You bastard! Who the hell are you! Speak now!”

Hyesung, unable to answer, unleashed a brutal lethal technique imbued with Qi Projection, but Dan Mujin parried them all with his halved cudgel and launched a counterattack.

When no answer came, he began targeting the gleaming bald head relentlessly, threatening to cave in the skull.

“Head! Head! Head!”

Bam-bam-bam—!

“Arghhh!”

Perhaps due to some subtle principle in his strikes, the excruciating pain made Hyesung clutch his bald head and roll across the stage in agony.

This was no duel—it was a one-sided beating.

“What on earth…….”

Murong Cheonghye stared blankly at the unexpected outcome, stunned.

The spectators, too, had thought victory assured when the Shaolin martial artist released Qi Projection.

“No way, seriously?”

“Someone from the Shaolin Temple is getting beat like a dog? By one of the Seven Fate, Three Chivalry?”

Disbelief and dumbfounded sighs burst out from gamblers all around.

Meanwhile, Dan Mujin continued his assault, claiming he was avenging the grudge of the cudgel now reduced to just the letters ‘Ma Bong.’

“Groin! Groin! Groin!”

“Ugh, aghhh!”

It was a scene far too brutal to be considered a righteous duel. Everyone reflexively grabbed their own groins.

The one disguised as Hyesung could only scream like a wounded dog, unable to articulate any words from the indescribable pain of being struck in a man’s most vital place.

“If you don’t wanna die from your jewels exploding, then spit it out—who the hell are you!”

Dan Mujin interrogated him like a true member of the Demon-Slaying Unit.

Bloodshot eyes gleamed with a sharp brilliance.

“Su-surrender! I forfeit! I foorrrfeeeit!”

But instead of answering, the self-proclaimed Shaolin martial artist launched a Rolling Dive and grabbed the referee’s leg, shouting his surrender.

His tear- and snot-streaked face declared such a disgraceful surrender that the referee was momentarily speechless.

“You bastard……! Who gave you permission!”

As enraged Dan Mujin leapt forward with his broken cudgel, the referee snapped back to his senses and quickly accepted the forfeit.

A white flag fluttered on stage—signaling the end of this bizarre match.

“It’s not a surrender! It’s invalid, invalid!”

“What nonsense……! Step back!”

Regardless, Dan Mujin swung his cudgel like a madman, declaring the forfeit void.

The referees panicked and rushed to restrain him.

“The duel is over! As a righteous martial artist, maintain courtesy and virtue!”

“I’m telling you, that guy isn’t righteous!”

“To speak such slander of a Shaolin talent……! Watch your tongue!”

“Ah damn it! Just let me hit him one more time! I’m on the verge of a revelation right now……!”

Seeing no other option, referees charged at him from all sides.

In the end, Dan Mujin was dragged off the stage, arms held tightly by the referees.

And so, silence fell upon the stage as everyone stared at the victorious, yet chaotic scene.

“Well, um…… thank goodness he’s safe.”

What an extraordinary young man.

Murong Cheonghye let out a small laugh and sighed in relief.

Ilhong was currently in a very good mood.

The bet she had made on a whim had paid out sevenfold.

“……Congratulations. Here’s your money.”

One side had been a wandering martial artist with a bizarre alias, the other, a Shaolin talent. A betting board for the round-of-16 victor.

A middle-aged man, having finished his abacus calculations, placed the coin pouch on the desk with a heavy thunk, his expression bitter.

“Hehehe.”

Ilhong grinned at the satisfying weight.

Back when everything was handed to her as the heir of the Hao Sect Leader, money had been just numbers. But after living like a beggar, she realized how precious it really was.

She proudly accepted the envious and resentful stares from those around her.

“What will you do with the money?”

At the middle-aged man’s question, thoughts of luxury and indulgence flashed through Ilhong’s mind.

But she quickly shook her head and cleared those thoughts away.

Instead, two words floated to the forefront: ‘Black Diagnosis Bird’ and ‘revenge.’

“I think I’ll buy another weapon.”

"Mm, a weapon? Are you a martial artist too?"

Muttered a middle-aged man, noting that there were no blades visible and my body didn’t look as solid as a martial artist’s.

"The martial artists who don’t look like it are always the most dangerous."

A well-known proverb of the Murim.

The shortest blade that strikes through a person’s carelessness always hurts the most. Hadn't I already experienced this once at the Hao Sect?

"Well then, goodbye."

A pleasant weight of the coin pouch felt in my hand.

Ilhong fiddled with the hidden weapon in her coat and headed straight toward the Black Spot in Shaanxi.

Still, a little indulgence like a piece of Dangwa couldn’t hurt, she thought as she licked the sweet treat bought from a street stall.

"Mm? Welcome."

A plain-looking old man greeted her in a shabby inn.

Ilhong cautiously threw down three copper coins, five silver coins, and eight gold coins in order and spoke.

"I'm here to buy some white slabs."

White slabs, another name for tofu.

"This is already your fourth visit. Forget the passphrase and just say what you want."

The old man shook his head as if saying, what kind of nonsense is this.

Ilhong, caught off guard while trying to maintain a secretive atmosphere, made a deflated expression.

"Is it finished?"

Perhaps her second hidden weapon, the one that might once again cause the second daughter of the Tang Clan to faint.

There had been too many situations where just one wasn’t enough. So, like a certain someone who used to scatter Poison Pellets and hidden weapons in all directions, she thought about preparing a variety of options.

"It's not done."

"...Pardon?"

Today, however, the old man at the Black Spot uttered a disappointing remark.

Ilhong asked back, wondering what he meant, since she had already paid.

"Some things happened. The poisons, the Black Powder—everything’s been cleaned out."

"Why did it all suddenly run out?"

She poked the inn’s table with her finger, pressing for an answer.

In response, the old man quietly extended his palm.

Here, information equaled money. If she wanted to know, she had to pay.

With a short sigh, she placed five silver coins in his palm.

"Someone swept away all the stock in Shaanxi. Took them all to make things like Poison Pellets and Small Thunder Pellets."

Just hearing it, she knew—dangerous stuff. Were they trying to overthrow a nation or what?

"Who was it?"

The old man extended his palm again.

"..."

With trembling hands, Ilhong pulled out more silver coins and placed them in his palm. Then came the answer.

"I don’t know either."

"What? Then why did you take the money?"

"Even the fact that there are shady folks the Black Spot doesn’t know counts as information."

"What the hell..."

Did the Hao Sect conduct business like this too? Ilhong felt heat rising within her.

"Still, since you paid more than expected, I’ll give you this one on the house."

"...What is it?"

"There's an expert on our Black Spot’s side who’s good at eavesdropping."

Incidentally, the Hao Sect had a martial artist like that too. An expert who cultivated a technique to sharpen their hearing to the extreme.

"From their mouths, terms like the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament and the Great Undertaking were mentioned multiple times. Along with a few wanderers and even a Tang Clan expert."

The former could be glossed over, but the latter wasn’t something she could ignore.

With a slightly stiffened face, Ilhong pulled out more silver coins and asked for the names of the wanderers that were mentioned.

"That would be..."

And the moment she heard those names, she realized it.

Ah, so this isn’t someone else’s problem.

The rising talent of the Shaolin Temple, Diamond Fist Hyesung.

And the man suspected of impersonating him was defeated by me after attempting a Lethal Technique, disappearing soon after to avoid Murong Cheonghye’s pursuit.

The Vice Captain of the Demon-Slaying Unit, who had immediately notified the Murim Alliance and convened a meeting.

Because he failed to capture the impersonator, the only evidence left was a discolored, specially crafted fine needle. To compensate, Murong Cheonghye brought me as a witness to this meeting.

Ah, to be precise, myself, who had fought the Blood-Sucking Fiend back then, along with Jo Harang, Ilhong, and Tang Yeo-hye were all dragged into this meeting full of old folks.

"What the hell is going on..."

Jeok Unyeop held his head in agony, overwhelmed by the catastrophe caused by the Vice Captain who was only supposed to handle paperwork.

That man truly seemed tormented by the ever-reckless Vice Captain every time.

"Captain, that man is the Abbot of the Shaolin Temple, the Venerable Gungnyun."

Bald heads filled with ominous Qi gathered in one corner of the Murim Alliance conference room.

And now that the one believed to be the future of Shaolin, Hyesung, had vanished, and someone had impersonated him to unleash a Lethal Technique—

"Ahem, ahem!"

A face extremely displeased with the current topic and mood.

Better not make eye contact with them.

"That man over there is the Sect Leader of the Mount Hua Sect."

Thick, hawk-like brows, a body exuding toughness, yet dressed in a martial robe—a middle-aged martial artist.

A person who radiated the aura of a true expert.

"And that one is..."

Ilhong pointed somewhere.

A tall, gaunt old man, with hair white as scallions and face covered in liver spots as if he were on the brink of death.

"That’s the current Murim Alliance Leader, the Heavenly Sword of the Namgung Clan."

Looking again, beneath the shabby appearance was hidden majesty, and the hunched posture resembled that of a tiger ready to pounce at any moment.

'In the Murim, you really can’t judge people by their appearance.'

Despite having learned this lesson multiple times, I always ended up like this.

It was probably because I had lived on modern Earth, where appearances meant almost everything.

Who would believe it? That such a feeble-looking old man could be an expert capable of massacring thousands—no, tens of thousands?