Surviving as a Cripple in Murim – Chapter 28

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Teottry
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“How have you been?”

No…, too simple.

“That was a beautiful song, Brother. I didn’t know you were such a talented singer.”

No…, that sounds like I’m fishing for compliments. How vulgar.

“This is frustrating…”

Yeonhwa, practicing greetings in the mirror in preparation for her next encounter with Mancheon, let out an exasperated sigh.

She was annoyed with herself for losing her composure and getting flustered over a mere song. And what annoyed her most was the image of Mancheon, probably relaxing and playing his pipa, completely oblivious to her inner turmoil.

But was he truly oblivious?

A sudden spark of inspiration ignited in her mind. A shift in perspective.

He had been rejected, his heartfelt serenade, performed without regard for the opinions of others, unanswered.

What if… and this was a highly improbable, almost impossible scenario… what if she had confessed her love to him?

And what if he had simply ignored her and walked away? She would have been consumed by shame and despair, and likely would have hung herself after burning him alive.

Therefore, her older brother must be feeling incredibly embarrassed right now. Probably kicking his blankets in frustration.

This was her chance. His attack had failed. The winds of fortune on the romantic battlefield were now blowing in her favor. It was her turn to strike.

“Did you really think you could win my heart with such a simple song? How naive.”

She looked at herself in the mirror, tilting her head slightly, raising a hand to delicately cover her lips, and smiled.

“You’ll have to try much harder than that.”

Perfect. That’s it.

Further contemplation was a waste of time. Yeonhwa threw open the door and strode purposefully towards Mancheon’s room, her steps measured and graceful.

She would deliver a crushing blow to her wicked older brother, who, with his carefree demeanor, toyed with the hearts of others.

A smug, self-satisfied smile played on Yeonhwa’s lips.

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He wasn’t there. She couldn’t find Mancheon. He wasn’t in his room, and she had checked all the places he usually frequented. Where could he have gone?

‘Don’t tell me…. he ran away because he was rejected?’

Mancheon usually lingered nearby, almost always within her vicinity, even when she wasn’t actively seeking him out. Perhaps that was why his absence was so noticeable, the void he left behind so profound.

The house, always large, felt even larger and colder today.

As Yeonhwa stood in the hallway, her face clouded with worry, a servant, who had been cleaning, approached hesitantly.

“My lady, are you looking for something?”

“No.”

Yeonhwa tried to offer her usual polite smile and reassure the servant, saying, “It’s alright. Don’t mind me,” but the words that escaped her lips were entirely different.

“Um… do you know where Older Brother Mancheon is?”

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He checked the meticulously stacked sacks of beans, rice, and other preserved foodstuffs.

“Good. Everything is accounted for.”

He finished inspecting the second storehouse, hidden in the mountains, built to ensure the family’s survival in the event of a fire. He didn’t really need to check; there were servants assigned to manage the storehouse.

He simply needed an excuse to escape to the mountains, away from his mother’s watchful eye.

“I’ll take a stroll around the mountain. You can head back down.”

He handed the storehouse key to the servants who had accompanied him and continued his ascent alone.

When he was younger, smaller, he could practice his martial arts in secret within the confines of his room. But as he grew older, larger, it became increasingly difficult.

Tap-tap

He limped uphill. He wore weighted clothing beneath his robes, making the climb more strenuous. While he could have used his internal energy to lighten the burden, this was part of his physical training; using internal energy would make it meaningless.

His master had always emphasized the importance of a strong foundation, and his own martial arts training had reinforced this lesson. Without a solid foundation, advanced techniques were impossible.

As he continued his strenuous climb, he reached a clearing, a suitable training ground. His own secret, private training area.

He hadn’t been able to dedicate much time to his training lately, preoccupied by Yeonhwa. Today, he would make up for lost time.

He began by practicing the Dog Beating Staff Technique with his right hand. As the martial art he had dedicated the most time to, his movements were fluid and precise.

Then, he switched to his left hand. His movements were just as swift and fluid as with his right. His left hand, initially clumsy and slow, had improved significantly.

Right hand, left hand, alternating between the two, he repeated the forms of the Dog Beating Staff Technique, from beginning to end.

He practiced against imaginary opponents of varying sizes, positioned on higher and lower ground, on unstable terrain, envisioning various combat scenarios.

While he fought against a multitude of imaginary foes, they all shared one common trait: they were far stronger than him, masters who had sparred with his own master.

He envisioned the masters his master had faced, their swords, spears, and fists, and fought against them in his mind.

He had never won, not even once. It was humbling to think that his master had not only defeated such formidable opponents, but had also stolen their techniques.

He paused to catch his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. His body tingled pleasantly, energized. The crisp mountain air filled his lungs.

He felt good. Today, he felt he could finally master Twin Hand Combat.

He focused his mind, dividing his attention equally.

Right—Dog Beating Staff Technique, Left—Emptiness Illumination Fist.

He input the different forms into each arm, attempting to execute two distinct martial arts simultaneously, without a single flaw.

And promptly lost his balance, his arms flailing wildly as the forms clashed, sending him tumbling to the ground.

He lay sprawled on the dirt, staring blankly at the clear blue sky.

Twin Hand Combat… that stubborn bastard. Why was it so elusive? So… infuriatingly appealing?

Once he mastered it, he would use it relentlessly, like King Sejong the Great exploiting the ever-patient Hwang Hui.

“Haah…”

He sighed wearily. The interruption in his training brought a wave of fatigue. He felt sticky and uncomfortable, coated in sweat.

There was a river nearby… Perhaps he should take a dip.

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He arrived at the river, seeking a refreshing cleanse, but unfortunately, it was already occupied.

A muscular man, his head shaved, but not quite as short as a monk’s, perhaps in his mid to late thirties, stood in the river, his bare chest glistening in the sunlight, washing himself.

He was clearly a man of unusual presence, but what was even more striking was the large tattoo that adorned his back.

It depicted a fierce giant, engulfed in flames, seated in a meditative posture, a flaming sword in his hand. It resembled the Four Heavenly Kings often depicted in Buddhist temples.

“That’s an impressive tattoo. Is that a depiction of the Four Heavenly Kings of Buddhism?”

The tattooed man turned to face him and answered calmly, his voice as deep and steady as his appearance suggested.

“Similar, but different. It’s not a Buddhist deity, but Fudo Myo-o, one of the Five Wisdom Kings of Esoteric Buddhism.”

Fudo Myo-o… He had seen that tattoo before. Usually on the backs of protagonists or rival gang leaders in yakuza manga.

This wasn’t the yakuza world, though, so the man was unlikely to be a gangster. He probably had the tattoo for religious reasons.

“Impressive nonetheless. Well, enjoy your bath.”

His curiosity satisfied, and not particularly keen on sharing the river with a muscular stranger, he turned to leave, when a voice called out from behind.

“I have a question for you, if you have a moment.”

“Ah… yes. I’ll answer if I can. Ask away.”

It would be rude to ignore him after initiating contact, so he turned back to face the man. The tattooed man placed his hands together in prayer, bowed slightly, and stepped out of the river.

He had thought the man was incredibly muscular from a distance, but up close, the density of his muscles was even more impressive. And contrary to his fierce appearance, his eyes were surprisingly gentle and kind.

He was also incredibly tall. Not quite as tall as his master, but at least 6’3”.

As Mancheon looked up at the man, the man sat down on a nearby flat rock, bringing himself down to Mancheon’s eye level.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Muk-gang, a Dharma protector of Esoteric Buddhism.”

Though he had simply stated his name, the air around them grew heavy, charged with an almost palpable energy.

“I have come to this village to slay the monster of the Zoroastrian cult. Have you, by any chance, seen this monster?”

It was strange, but for some reason, the image of Fudo Myo-o overlapped with Muk-gang’s face.

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Geez…. the the younger sister seems on wanted 🤔