novelraw Chapter 134 : "An Unexpected Act You Shouldn’t Do in a Tomb"
Chapter 134 : "An Unexpected Act You Shouldn’t Do in a Tomb"
Chapter 134: "An Unexpected Act You Shouldn’t Do in a Tomb"
Click. Click.
The sound of nail-biting echoed through the room.
A man, his face filled with anxiety, gnawed at his thumbnail until it bled.
“Why now, of all times…”
Though there had been some suspicions, everything had gone smoothly without being uncovered.
He recalled the group that had descended into the underground after meeting members of the Eon Clan.
“A troubleshooter? What the hell would some unorthodox lackey be doing here…”
The family had tried to resolve the corpse disappearance issue internally, but when they hit a dead end, Eon Wolyeong had taken the risk to bring in an outsider.
He’d heard that this person was skilled enough to be recognized by even the Ten Great Trading Lords of Beijing.
“But even so, once that coffin opens, they’re all dead.”
His voice, laced with killing intent, ground through his teeth.
Of course, if that happened, the Jinju Eon Clan would be completely flipped upside down.
It was probably time to leave this place.
A bit earlier than expected, but it seemed the time had come to join the cause.
“I wanted a bit more time to prepare… tsk.”
There was regret.
If only he’d had a little more time, he could’ve perfected everything.
He didn’t expect things to fall apart this absurdly.
“Dan Mujin from Beijing, was it? You’ll pay for this with your lives.”
Wiping the blood trickling down his nail, the man in Jinju Eon Clan attire muttered coldly.
But he didn’t know.
That so-called unorthodox lackey, whose voice seemed oddly familiar, was actually classified by a certain organization as a high-level threat.
“I mean truly gruesomely so!”
Since the client claimed that corpses were vanishing, we had no choice but to see for ourselves.
We sat down in the damp underground chamber, keeping watch as we inspected each coffin one by one.
As time passed, a chill colder than the night air crept into our bones—like we were in a morgue.
Along with that came a steadily worsening stench—not the damp smell of a deep cave, but the distinct stench of death that only corpses gave off.
Unable to bear it anymore, I pulled the handkerchief Murong Cheonghye had given me from my coat and pinched my nose shut with it.
Sniff.
A subtle lotus fragrance gently lingered at my nose, replacing the rotting corpse stench.
It had a calming effect. Perhaps it was just my inner Murong Cheongjin reacting to it that way.
Sniff.
Testing it again for effect, I sensed an odd gaze from the side.
“…What are you doing?”
Turning my head, I found Ilhong staring at me like I was some kind of bizarre creature.
“It’s a misunderstanding.”
“Right, and what kind of misunderstanding exactly?”
Her eyes clearly asked me to explain why I was sniffing the handkerchief given to me by a woman of the Murong Clan during a farewell moment.
Come to think of it, there was no possible way to explain this. I couldn’t very well say it was due to another personality inside me.
“Seems like you do have some history with the Evil-Slaying Demoness.”
Apparently, my curiosity had come off like I was reminiscing about a past lover.
She’d once claimed she wouldn’t ask about my affairs—but now here she was, lips jutting out and clearly interested in my past.
“Here.”
“What’s this?”
“My handkerchief.”
Plain but sturdy, it was a handkerchief woven with coarse threads.
What Murong Cheonghye had given me was luxurious silk—this was her way of telling me to save that one and use hers instead.
I’d heard Central Plains women always carried these, but…
“Really, a guy carrying something like that. Tsk tsk.”
“You’re really something, you know that?”
At my teasing, she grumbled and gave my shin a couple of annoyed kicks.
I hadn’t often received handkerchiefs from women, but lately, fortune seemed to be smiling on me.
“But I think she needs it more than me.”
I pointed at Jo Harang, who was glancing around with tear-brimmed eyes, constantly on edge.
She’d started off trying to act tough, but now she was gradually breaking down.
“Seriously, it’s funny. She didn’t flinch when a Blood Cult expert popped out in Liaoning.”
“Right?”
People sure had strange things they were scared of.
Even the fall of a pebble nearby made her shoulders twitch.
“Eek.”
Like a tiger with its tail tucked between its legs.
Ilhong and I both shook our heads.
I’d never seen a scaredy-cat quite like her.
“Sh-Shut up!”
Oops, guess she heard me muttering.
At least she still had the energy to get worked up.
“But yeah, this place is kinda creepy, Captain.”
“Right? Maybe it’s the whole graveyard vibe.”
Places where the dead rested always made the living feel a bit unsettled.
And didn’t the client, Eon Wolyeong, mention there were only exit traces, no signs of intrusion?
As if the corpses had stood up and walked out on their own.
Hearing that before coming here did make the place feel eerier.
Though Jo Harang was particularly over-the-top, far from her usual bold self.
“Captain, why are you pulling out jerky here, of all places? Can you even eat right now?”
It’s all for survival. As I pulled out a piece to chew on, she looked horrified.
“Ilhong, do you know what the most forbidden act in a tomb is?”
“What?”
“Resurrection.”
Imagine someone suddenly rising from the dead—we’d both be the ones panicking.
Even in the Murim where anything goes, surely the dead wouldn’t actually resurrect…
Thinking such thoughts, I ripped off a bite of jerky.
Just then, the broadsword-wielding woman beside me started rapidly tapping my arm.
“Wha—what is it now?”
She silently pointed at a coffin shrouded in the dark.
“I-It… I think it just moved.”
Didn’t look like it to me.
“Harang, don’t ever go around calling yourself the Tiger of Mount Sung again.”
Seriously. Even her blade, the Tiger Hero Blade, must be crying right now.
“I’m telling you, dammit! It moved just a little bit!”
“Hey, drop the ‘Tiger’ part from her old title. Just call her the Calf. The Calf.”
“I’m telling you, look! Over there!”
Even Heaven-Slaying Star was holding steady—what a disgrace to the Purple Tenuity Star, that woman was.
Clicking my tongue internally, I turned to where she was pointing.
“…Huh?”
Sure enough, the lid of a coffin was sliding open, and a corpse was rising from within.
My mind froze, unable to utter a word at the sight of common sense shattering before my eyes.
In that silence, the pale corpse slowly raised its body.
Could it be that, in the Murim, even corpses could resurrect?
As I cursed my shallow knowledge of martial arts fiction, Jo Harang let out a scream at full volume, as if to say otherwise.
“Hiiiiiiek!”
Even in the Murim, resurrection might’ve crossed the line.
I, too, joined in with a bizarre shriek.
“Holy sh—damn it!”
The dead are not frightening.
The living always are.
That was advice I gave back in the Troubleshooter days, when a subordinate trembled upon finding a corpse.
After all, the dead can never harm us. I’d said that with full confidence.
But it seemed such common sense didn’t apply in the Murim.
We were currently under fierce assault by reanimated corpses.
Shhhk!
A hand blade, thick with the stench of rot, sliced through the air with a tearing sound.
A deathly pale face—no hint of blood left in it. White, lifeless eyes and lips that didn’t draw breath.
Shhhk! Pak!
A corpse that had kicked open its coffin lid lunged in with both arms, swinging violently. Its strikes and palm techniques were vicious, showing no regard for self-preservation.
“Ilhong! What are these things?! Why are corpses using martial arts?!”
I barely deflected an incoming strike aimed at my neck with the Dog-Beating Staff and shouted in desperation.
What the hell were these things?
“G-Gangshi! They must be the gangshi from old stories!”
You mean those hopping zombies from old movies?
“Th-These bastards don’t die even when you stab them in the heart!”
Jo Harang yelled in disbelief as she drove her broadsword deep into one.
“Well, they’re corpses! They’re already dead!”
“Then how do you kill them?!”
“I—I don’t know! It’s something from ancient records…!”
In the past, there’d been incidents of corpses causing chaos, prompting the Murim Alliance’s martial force to wipe them out.
It was believed the secret arts that created gangshi had since been lost—but now they’d come back to life in the underground chamber of the Jinju Eon Clan, and Ilhong was losing her mind.
Srrkt!
Her hefty broadsword sliced through the air and struck a gangshi’s neck.
Its hide was so tough that even a master’s strike didn’t decapitate it in one blow—its head dangled by a thread.
Jo Harang clenched her lips and struck again, finally severing the head, which rolled across the ground.
The gangshi froze, then collapsed in a heap.
“I-I killed it! Mujin! Chop off the head—that works!”
“Same as with the living, I guess.”
A silver lining in this nightmare.
With that simple method, we began cracking open coffins and repelling the gangshi one by one.
“Hyahhh!”
And where had the scaredy-cat gone? Now Jo Harang roared a fierce battle cry, her swordplay like a storm.
Strong gusts from her swings swept through the chamber, slaughtering gangshi as she advanced.
She sliced through arms, legs, torsos—carving a path forward.
“Oh, look who’s back—the Tiger of Mount Sung!”
“If they can be killed… then I’m not afraid anymore!”
Ah, so that’s how her mind worked.
She must’ve only been terrified of ghost-like things she couldn’t physically harm.
Thunk.
Then suddenly, a corpse lying in the most elaborately adorned coffin snapped its eyes open.
It slowly pushed aside the lid and sat up, casting a dangerous red gleam in our direction.
“What the hell is that now? Unbelievable.”
This damned Murim—nothing normal ever happens here.
Some bastards fire off blood like bullets, and now we’ve got corpses rising one after another.
“Mujin, that one’s different. It feels off.”
So she felt it too. Unlike the others, that corpse emitted a strange kind of energy.
To think seasoned masters like us were shrinking back before a single dead body.
“Haaah!”
Still, it could be cut—so Jo Harang summoned her courage and charged, broadsword slashing fiercely.
A brilliant blue arc tore through the dark.
Her blue sword flux struck down on the corpse’s crown with terrifying force.
Kaang!
But shockingly, it rang not like flesh being cleaved, but like metal clashing.
A bizarre gangshi caught the sword mid-air with its hand.
Its pale, dead eyes flicked toward the one who dared swing at it.
Then—they gleamed with red light.
“Hieek!”
A master had thrown everything into that blow, yet this corpse blocked it effortlessly.
“W-We’re dead!”
Jo Harang panicked and unleashed a flurry of lethal strikes. Her sword aura flashed in all directions—but the gangshi, with strange movements, parried everything and began pressing in on her.
During the scuffle, its clothes were torn, revealing a body stained in red—causing Ilhong to scream in horror.
“W-Wait, could that be a Blood Gangshi? It might be a Blood-Asura Gangshi! Everyone, be careful!”
Whatever that meant, the name alone was ominous enough—this was no ordinary gangshi.
I quickly rushed to the embattled Jo Harang and swung the Hell-Piercing Demon-Slaying Staff with full force.
Bwak!
The blow to its skull was enough to smash boulders—but only my palm stung in return.
The Blood Gangshi, unfazed, immediately counterattacked.
Papapak!
Even Heaven-Slaying Star couldn’t counter that fast after such a blow—its durability was unreal.
“M-Mujin! What do we do?! We can’t even cut it properly!”
This was strange—flesh that existed, yet behaved like a ghost.
“Goddamn it.”
Thanks to Eun Hwaran, I thought we’d finally landed a proper request.
But it seemed we were in for yet another hellish ordeal.