Murim Troubleshooter Dan Mujin

Chapter 71: The Two Brothers

There are times in life when one slips up and says the wrong thing.

Most of the time, it's just a mistake, and if you apologize, people will let it go. But there are always those who won’t.

The Clan Head of the Murong Clan—of all the people I know, he’s the most stubborn.

No matter what excuse I give, it won’t get through to him. In that case, I might as well strap a righteous cause to my back and break through head-on.

“Even if you dress it up as preserving the dignity of the Righteous Sect or a rare chance to wipe out the opposition, what you really mean is you can’t cancel the tournament because you think your son will win, right?”

Despite knowing that the Blood Cult bastards wouldn’t just pass up the Righteous Sect’s grandest event, he was telling us all to take the risk for the sake of his own interests.

When I countered him confidently, even under the subtle pressure emanating from a master-level aura, Murong Cheon’s eyebrow twitched, and he began glaring at me intently.

“……Boss, are you crazy? Making enemies with the Murong Clan is nothing but trouble.”

Ilhong whispered frantically, alarmed. But making enemies? Been there, done that.

And it wasn’t even a big deal. At worst, I ended up getting stabbed off a cliff.

“I’m not crazy.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

Watching Murong Cheonghye get crushed under the weight of her family’s power—made me wonder if the same coercion was used on me back then to force me into 'that incident.' It really rubbed me the wrong way.

“You… were one of the Five Fate, was it?”

“We’re still the Seven Fate, Three Chivalry.”

“Right, the Seven Fate, Three Chivalry.”

Murong Cheon massaged the veins bulging above his temple.

His expression said he never imagined some wandering nobody would dare climb up this high.

“And what, exactly, are you relying on to act so arrogantly?”

A truly furious face. The same man who remained icy even toward his own son, Murong Cheongjin, was now losing his composure to emotion.

I had made this man angry. It was the first time in thirteen years I’d ever seen such a thing. It felt… oddly satisfying.

“I’m not relying on anything. As a fellow member of the Righteous Sect, I’m saying we should prevent unnecessary sacrifice.”

The Blood Cult bastards had been hoarding Poison Pellets and Black Powder. It was obvious they were planning a large-scale terror attack, and we were just going to ignore it?

It went against my conscience—no, against building up Good Karma.

And it’s not like we didn’t know. To allow such danger just for the glory of one's child—that's not the stance the leadership of a Righteous Sect should take.

“Do you even understand what you’re saying right now?”

“Yes, I believe I do, more than you think.”

“The betting pools are already open. And if we cancel the event now out of fear of the Blood Cult while everyone’s watching, the Evil Alliance will mock us, and the honor of the Righteous Sect will be trampled.”

“And what if the feared scenario actually happens? What about the innocent civilians who get caught up in it? If people get massacred, will the honor of the Righteous Sect still remain intact?”

If anything, a bloodbath at the heart of the Righteous Sect would only escalate the public outcry.

A few elders nodded slightly in agreement with my words.

Especially the Murim Alliance Leader, who was toying with his sword sheath and eyeing me with a curious gaze.

If he stepped in to block it now, as Murong Cheon warned, it would seem like he was meddling to prevent a rival family from winning. That would be problematic.

It must’ve felt like a stroke of luck that someone like me spoke out. But the way he looked at me also said, “You’ve got some nerve.”

“Enough. Regardless of what’s being said here, there is no concrete evidence, is there? Canceling a major event based only on suspicion is unthinkable.”

But I did see it—those burning waves of Killing Intent, that bottomless bloodlust aimed at the Righteous Sects, with my own two eyes.

Too bad I couldn’t just blurt that out in front of the man who had once helped kill me, the Heaven-Slaying Star.

“And just like we did with the Alliance Leader’s son, the opportunity of the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament must be given equally to everyone. Just because a variable arises doesn’t mean we flip our hand so easily.”

With that, Murong Cheon cast a threatening glance around, as if warning everyone not to let envy block his son’s path.

Those who had been quietly rooting for me now turned their gazes elsewhere.

This man hadn’t changed. Still obsessed with the prosperity of his clan above all else.

“Then what if your son doesn’t win?”

“……You’ve been talking nonsense since earlier. Who besides Murong Hui could possibly win?”

Murong Cheon raised one eyebrow dismissively, as if to say “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Jo Harang here also has potential.”

“Cough, huh? Me? Why me?”

She squeaked in surprise, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk as she munched on sweets from the Alliance Leader’s office.

“And based on the match bracket, there’s also me. We’ll meet in the quarterfinals.”

I tapped my chest twice with my knuckles.

According to the schedule, I was supposed to face Murong Hui in the next match. Say what you will, but I was fairly confident when it came to countering the swift sword techniques of the Murong Clan.

“Now I see—not just audacious, but downright arrogant. For a mere wanderer, you’ve stepped way out of line.”

Given the location, Murong Cheon ground his teeth and narrowed his eyes in a quiet fury.

Within me, the coward—Murong Cheongjin—reacted like a reflex, shrinking at his father’s rising rage.

But I, Dan Mujin, wasn’t one to just sit back and watch.

“Then how about a wager?”

“A wager? What sort of wager?”

“If your son gets eliminated midway, then this whole tournament, no matter what happens, should no longer matter to you, right? So, when that happens, please reconsider calling off the tournament and focus on flushing out the Blood Cult.”

If those bastards were planning to attack, the most likely time would be the finals, when the crowd is at its peak.

And I knew this man’s nature.

The moment his son lost, he’d probably want the whole damn event to fall apart.

“All I hear is drivel. I hear you’ve recently defeated the Diamond Fist and it’s gone to your head… I’ll give my son a heads-up so he can knock some sense into you in the next match.”

But Murong Cheon didn’t openly reveal such schemes. He only told me to prepare myself for the next bout.

“And if you’re a wanderer, you should learn more about negotiation. This bet does me no good at all.”

Clicking his tongue in disapproval, Murong Cheon turned to return to his seat.

Just then, someone who had been quietly observing stepped in front of him.

“But Clan Head Murong, I followed him and saw it clearly with my own two eyes. That thing wasn’t some Shaolin Monk. It was something entirely twisted by Malice.”

Like a servant from some historical drama, Murong Cheonghye declared, eyes wide, that she had seen it clearly.

Yeah… her face screamed that she’d witnessed something.

Could it be that, after slaying so many wicked souls, she had developed a sixth sense?

“Cheonghye, how could you address me so coldly without calling me Father?”

Murong Cheon frowned deeply, clearly displeased by her choice of address.

“Because I am standing here as Vice Captain of the Demon-Slaying Unit chasing after the wicked, Clan Head.”

With that, she lowered her head, indicating this was a public matter.

As Vice Captain, she couldn’t just sit by and watch while villains roamed free.

Murong Cheon’s expression turned even more conflicted at the sight.

“Fine. If, as that wanderer said, Murong Hui loses, then I’ll no longer interfere with the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament’s suspension.”

Thinking the Clan Head had accepted her stance, Murong Cheonghye looked visibly relieved.

“But there’s a condition. If that wanderer loses, and the Blood Cult does not attack, then you must resign your position and return to the clan.”

“……!”

Of course. This man always found a way to serve the clan and his own interests.

My former noona bit her lip hard.

“……Understood. I accept.”

After glancing at me with eyes full of hope, she agreed to the condition.

Then Murong Cheon grinned, as if things had gone just as planned.

“Hoo hoo, good. This worked out rather well.”

He even looked at me with a gaze that seemed thankful.

Clearly, he thought my loss was inevitable, and that he could crown his son the winner while bringing Murong Cheonghye back to the clan.

Truly, just like a father who cast aside his child. Everything had to go the way he wanted, regardless of what his family desired.

But this time—will things truly go your way?

“Then, I’ll see you in the next match, Seven Fate, Three Chivalry.”

“Yes, we’ll see then.”

Even if I try to avoid it, fate keeps tangling us together in ironic ways.

Now I’ve got twice the reason to beat that bastard Murong Hui.

I glared at Murong Cheon’s retreating back as he exited the Alliance Leader’s office, my fighting spirit burning bright.

And I mean burning hot—with eyes ablaze.

Standing in front of me was Murong Cheonghye, dressed for departure.

“Well then, Master, I’ll leave my younger brother in your care.”

She meant, of course, that she wanted me to defeat him.

He hadn’t always been so arrogant, but somewhere along the line—perhaps because of her—he had started to go astray.

That inflated pride of his could use a little deflation.

“Yes, I’ll do my best to beat him.”

After showing me how to counter the Murong Clan’s martial techniques, Murong Cheonghye disappeared in a flash the moment a member of the Demon-Slaying Unit whispered something in her ear.

Apparently, traces of the target had shown up in the Murim Alliance’s spy network spread across Shaanxi.

“But Boss, when the Vice Captain drew her sword earlier for sparring, your body started trembling nonstop. Why was that?”

Ilhong, unmatched in observation and memory, asked curiously while swirling a piece of Dangwa in his mouth.

“Have you ever been stabbed by the Sword Flash of Heaven and Earth, performed by the Evil-Slaying Demoness?”

“Nope? Of course not.”

“Then don’t ask.”

“Eh.”

Leaving the puzzled Ilhong behind, I replayed the vision in my mind and imitated Murong Cheonghye’s Sword Flash of Heaven and Earth.

It’s said that, when mastered to its extreme, it can even split lightning—one of the Murong Clan’s ultimate techniques.

Swaak!

The split tip of the staff slashed through empty air with explosive speed—tearing the air apart like a bolt of lightning.

Swick swick!

The split end sliced the wind, making a sound like a snake’s tongue.

The staff darted forward at a strange angle and, with a peculiar twist, returned neatly to my grip.

“That’s not quite how she did it.”

Ilhong, seemingly having memorized the movements, pointed out the discrepancy.

“I’m not trying to replicate her moves.”

My former noona had demonstrated the technique not for me to copy, but to recognize its danger and speed.

I was now analyzing its counter, activating my Heaven-Slaying Eye.

“But shortening the staff really messes with the balance.”

A staff is supposed to be a weapon that leverages distance, but the one I had—halved during the fight with the Blood Cult bastard—was now even shorter than a shortsword.

While I stayed silent, lost in training and swinging my staff, Ilhong got bored and eventually walked off.

But then someone else, smiling, approached to fill the vacancy.

It was Ma Jungcheon, the young master whose secret was revealed the day we met.

Lately, he’d been tailing me in secret, and it seemed he took the chance to approach when no one else was around.

“Ah, what now.”

Ever since the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament’s banquet, he’d been going on about making connections, never neglecting training, and whatnot.

The moment I saw his face, I sighed. But Ma Jungcheon only laughed cheerfully and came closer.

“Heh heh, don’t be like that. I brought you a gift today.”

He held out a long staff toward me.

It looked to be the same length, weight, and sturdiness as the Dog-Beating Staff I had used during escort duties.

“I saw your staff get wrecked last time. We’ve got some history, so I figured I’d bring you a decent replacement.”

He said that while clearly expecting me to demonstrate some staff technique on the spot.

Yup, he definitely figured out who I am.

This wasn’t even pretending anymore.

“Thanks for the staff.”

Thanks for your hard work, my old staff.

I pulled out a small scalpel blade used for skinning wild animals and carved some letters into the center of the new staff.

The name: Hell-Revenge Staff (地獄復讎棒).

“Well now, Master, all your names are always so...”

“Badass, right?”

“Badass...? Anyway, quite eerie.”

Whatever. I swung the staff around like a windmill, wrapped it around my waist, and even bounced it like the Ruyi Staff, confirming its feel.

“So what’s the revenge for? The Blood Cult guy who broke your last one?”

“Him, for sure. But there’s more.”

I had to avenge my staff, but I also had to seek revenge for Murong Cheongjin, who had endured harsh treatment for so long.

I began to channel a serious amount of internal energy into the staff’s tip and swung it.

With a heavy sonic burst, the staff cut through the wind, splitting the flow of air with violent Qi Waves.

Watching in awe, Ma Jungcheon asked:

“I’ve been wondering… did you reach the Peak Master Level after that last fight?”

Back then, I had countered a strike that shattered my staff with every blow—completely blocking the opponent’s Fist Qi.

Ma Jungcheon seemed to believe I’d gained enlightenment, judging from the internal energy radiating from the staff’s tip.

And he was right. I had gained a small realization that allowed me to directly clash with sword qi and fist qi, the defining traits of Peak Master Level martial artists.

“I guess that’s how it is.”

“……Huh. That’s an unbelievable talent. Peak level at fifteen. Your progress is on par with the Azure Cloud Sword.”

This guy… even if we’re not speaking Korean, he should still let me finish.

“But it’s a bit odd. It feels like I’m at the Peak, but only for defense.”

No longer would sword qi slice my weapon in half and pierce into my chest.

But no matter how much energy I infused into the staff, I couldn’t generate that level of destructive force that could split steel in two.

Jo Harang had said it might be because my enlightenment came too fast and that time would resolve it.

But I wasn’t exactly a patient guy.

‘Kill (殺)’

Especially not with the Heaven-Slaying Star sulking because I couldn’t use a weapon to crush both skull and bone at once.

Still, it wasn’t too bad. I avoided Killing Karma and made full use of my durability and Heaven-Slaying Eye to beat the crap out of my enemies.

“So you’ve reached the Peak… but only halfway?”

“That’s pretty much it.”

“Huh, I see.”

Well, it really was too fast—even Ma Jungcheon nodded with an understanding expression.

“Since I answered one, let me ask you something in return, Master Ma Jungcheon.”

“Yes, please do.”

He responded with a bright grin, seemingly pleased that I was finally showing some interest instead of avoiding him like usual.

“You’re from the Beggars’ Union, aren’t you?”

“……”

That grin instantly cracked and froze.

A look that screamed, ‘When did he figure that out?’—he couldn’t hide his panic.

“W-What are you talking about?”

This guy… for someone from the Beggars’ Union, he’s a terrible actor.

“What do you mean, what? You’ve already been found out.”

“Absolutely not! I am but a chivalrous hero of Kaifeng, known in the murim as the Divine Wind Hero!”

“If you’re not from the Beggars’ Union, say ‘Screw that bastard, Dragon Head Sect Leader.’”

“Y-You’re insane! How dare you speak of that man so casually…! Hup.”

See?

What a pointless little act. Honestly.

“Anyway, I need some intel and manpower. Uncle from the Beggars’ Union.”

I tapped him on the shoulder with the Dog-Beating Staff as I said it.

“By intel and manpower, what exactly do you mean…?”

“There are plenty of Beggars’ Union folks in Shaanxi, right? Help us track the Blood Cult’s movements, and assist the Vice Captain of the Demon-Slaying Unit in finding that Slayer bastard.”

You know. With the Beggars’ Union’s information network and headcount, they could practically weave a Celestial Net (天羅地網) across the land.

That would be a big help to Murong Cheonghye in her search.

“I’m sorry, but such core resources of the Beggars’ Union don’t move on the orders of outsiders.”

“Wait, I’m an outsider?”

I asked with a face full of wounded sorrow.

This coming from the guy who gave me unsolicited advice, warning me not to end up like the previous Dragon Head Sect Leader.

“Ahem, well… not formally acknowledged, at least.”

“Look, people don’t really remember those who treat them well during their prime. But? The ones who were kind when you were nobody…”

“Are remembered… for a long time?”

“Exactly!”

I clapped my hands like I’d heard the right answer.

“If things go well later, I’ll remember your face and name for sure.”

You’ll be someone I value.

In a world where you can’t avoid Guanxi, I whispered sworn sibling, and he swallowed hard before nodding.

“…I’ll do what I can.”

Ma Jungcheon—he was someone who knew how to line up for the future.

I liked him.

Namgung Soseon, current Murim Alliance Leader and known by the alias Celestial Sword, looked down from the stage at the two young men stepping onto the dueling arena with great interest.

One a wanderer, the other the rightful heir of a prestigious clan—yet a strangely similar atmosphere hung between them.

“Father, is the one holding the staff that wanderer named Dan Mujin you mentioned?”

A handsome youth with a jade-like face standing next to the stage pointed to one side of the arena and asked Namgung Soseon.

Namgung Soseon nodded in confirmation.

“Yes, a youth with an intriguing nature and remarkable growth.”

The Celestial Sword nodded, saying the boy reminded him of the Murong Clan Head in his youth—known as the Thunder Sword.

“Well… I don’t see much. Just another martial artist who hasn’t even reached the Peak Master Level.”

That was the response of Namgung Jin, son of the Celestial Sword, as he shrugged, seemingly unimpressed.

Namgung Soseon shook his head, lamenting his son’s poor judgment.

“By the way, you—the one they call the Azure Cloud Sword—where the hell is your sword?”

I let you go without a word when you said you needed to grow on your own, find your own martial path, and realize your responsibilities…

And now you show up with the clan’s treasured sword nowhere to be seen, shouldering some odd staff instead.

“……There were circumstances, Father.”

He explained that it was less of a situation and more like a mishap.

The handsome youth rested the sharp, heavy-ended staff casually on his shoulder.