Murim Troubleshooter Dan Mujin-Chapter 128 : Former Client

Chapter 128: Former Client
Just as I was about to leave the front gate of the Murong Clan, Murong Hui stopped me with a word that made me halt in place.
“In a moment, there’s something I want to ask before you go.”
When I turned back, I saw Murong Cheongjin’s elder brother staring at me with a strange look on his face.
“What is it?”
“There’s something off between you and my sister… did something happen on that mountain?”
He mentioned how she’d searched for me as soon as she woke up, and how her gaze looked like someone who had recovered something lost.
“I heard it before, too. Every time she sees me, it reminds her of a missing sibling.”
I maintained a calm tone, explaining it as if it was nothing.
“A missing sibling… don’t tell me, you mean Murong Cheongjin, that guy?”
Murong Hui raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely puzzled, mumbling to himself in clear confusion.
“Well, that’s what she says. Do you feel the same? Like, seeing me reminds you of a lost sibling?”
Murong Hui vehemently shook his head and burst into laughter.
“Ha! As if. That guy may have been unlucky, but he wasn’t insolent like you, nor did he ever insult the Clan Head. You can’t possibly be my sibling.”
He snorted in dismissal, utterly rejecting the notion.
He defended one side while scorning the other—should I feel pleased or offended by that?
Apparently, what left an impression was me calling the Murong Clan Head a “greedy old man” during the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament.
He doesn’t even dream that I might actually be that Murong Cheongjin.
“Besides, that kid is definitely dead. My sister’s just… searching for traces of someone she once cherished. That’s all.”
He said it decisively.
Just in case, I glanced up at the still starless sky.
“What did he die of?”
“An illness.”
“Click, click. What kind of illness?”
“You’re prying too deep into the Murong Clan’s affairs.”
Murong Hui drew a firm line, his expression souring.
That was probably the limit of what I could probe.
“Your expression didn’t look good, so I just thought I’d keep you company.”
“My expression? Hmm… now that I think about it, he wasn’t a bad kid. It’s just that the heavens dumped all their misfortune on him… sigh. I do feel a bit of pity. So stop digging and just go.”
He waved his hand dismissively as if telling me to scram now that the business was over.
You hear that, Cheongjin inside me? He feels a little pity for you.
Not that it excuses all the coldness he’s shown till now.
“You sure are cold to someone who saved your life.”
When I brought up how I’d saved him from being killed by a Blood Cult assassin while writhing in self-loathing, Murong Hui’s face flushed red.
“Th-that incident…! I already paid you back for that, didn’t I?”
“You can’t measure a life-saving favor with a few coins. What a miserly way of thinking.”
That incident was when this rude guy finally started treating me like a human being.
“Well… I do feel a little thankful…”
A crawling voice mumbled. I chuckled and asked again.
“What? I can’t hear you. Speak up.”
“...Get lost!”
Enraged, Murong Hui shouted through gritted teeth.
He turned around without another word, walking off without even seeing me out.
“In a way, he really is a consistent guy.”
I took one last look at Murong Clan’s vast estate, beginning with his retreating figure.
The towering buildings gleamed in the sunlight beneath the clear, cloudless sky.
This used to be my home, but now it was just a place of the past.
It was quite a distance from Beijing, so I’d probably never come back.
And the Clan Head, that man, didn’t even show his face as the one who saved his daughter departed.
It’s probably because my existence unsettles him. Not that I had any desire to see his face either.
“Let’s go, Ilhong, Harang.”
Even now, this place stirred up complicated emotions every time I visited—reminders of the days when I was a “source of disaster.”
But now, I had my own path to quietly walk.
With the energy of the Starfall Heart Cultivation Method rising from a series of good deeds, I composed myself and left the Murong Clan behind.
The past belongs in the past. And with that, I left Liaoning Province after several years.
In the Murong Clan’s manor, where splendid pavilions, gardens, ponds, and waterways blended in harmony—
A middle-aged man silently looked down from a tall tower at the departing youth.
“…So, a Blood Cult expert at the Transformation Realm appeared, and that young man and his companion defeated him. Is that what you’re saying?”
To Murong Cheon’s question, Murong Cheonghye, still visibly recovering, nodded her head.
“Before I lost consciousness, the only ones I saw were that young man and Jo Harang, the martial heroine.”
Logically, that meant the two of them defeated a Transformation Realm expert and saved her.
Unless some mystery figure suddenly showed up, defeated only Gwang Hyeolso, and vanished without a trace—which made no sense.
They must’ve fought desperately. Fought until their enemy was forced to retreat.
“Ha, I suppose that’s what they call ‘leaps and bounds.’ He was a first-rate martial artist the last time I saw him, reached the peak during the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament, and now he’s facing off against a Transformation Realm expert.”
Watching the youth grow smaller in the distance, Murong Cheon let out an admiring sigh.
Though his manners were in the dirt and his speech was unruly, his martial talent was undeniable.
“If only that young man were one of my sons…”
He felt regret. Deep regret.
Had he carried the name of the Murong Clan, he might’ve surpassed even Namgung Jin, the genius of this generation.
He might’ve overturned the humiliating title of eternal second-best that plagued the clan.
“In the end, even righteous Murim values power above all else…”
That blunt temperament of his—once he reached an absolute level—would no longer be considered a flaw.
Then the only remaining downside would be the way he ate like a starved beast, ready to drain the Murong Clan’s pantry.
“Which is why, Clan Head…”
As Murong Cheon turned toward Murong Cheonghye, who approached with a hopeful expression, he looked slightly puzzled.
Once like a lone blade that cut down evil without hesitation, she now gave off a hint of warmth, as if mellowed by something.
“…is there any work in the Murong Clan that could use a troubleshooter?”
“…Hmm?”
Though her body still looked weak, her eyes were sparkling with energy.
It seemed the reason for her newfound softness was that distant young man… and for once, Murong Cheon found himself flustered.
“Hmmm…”
As he was sifting through tasks to delegate to wanderers, Chairman Gam Un suddenly noticed the tickle in his eye had stopped and made a mysterious face.
“Well now, looks like that friend Dan Mujin pulled it off again.”
After all, throbbing pain in his old wound had always been a sign of mission failure.
Even commissions that others would give up on—this top-grade Wanderer somehow handled them all effortlessly, as if there were no obstacles in his way.
“No, wait… was he a Grade-B Wanderer now?”
A Peak Martial Artist. He felt increasingly difficult to deal with by the day.
Someday, he’d probably reach a position where A and B ranks would be reversed, like Jo Harang.
There was a shortage of Super Peak Wanderers, and demand was sky-high, so it wasn’t easy to assign them jobs as one pleased.
“Really, once someone becomes a master, they get all arrogant. It’s a headache.”
On the other hand, the money he was diligently raking in never changed its mind or betrayed its owner.
It simply stayed put in its place, quietly.
“Hey, any word from Artist Neung Jin-sam? He promised to paint me one more piece with that tiger and wolf motif last time.”
He called a subordinate and mentioned a former client who had now risen in status to an artist.
The field Chairman Gam Un was most aggressively investing in these days to grow his wealth—Beastman Art.
Literally, paintings of animals. No landscape, portrait, or ink painting could match their profitability.
Once the market opened, the demand from Beijing’s wealthy elite flooded in from all sides. In the end, it's always demand and supply that determine prices.
That’s why these days, he already felt as though he was sitting on a cushion of gold.
“Ah, that artist, you mean, Chairman…”
“Yeah, how’s the painting—that soon-to-be-mine piece—coming along?”
“Well, there seems to be a bit of an issue.”
“Hm? What kind of issue?”
The subordinate continued awkwardly, as if apologizing.
“Now that he’s doing well and income is stable, it seems he’s been partying every day at the brothel, indulging in reckless revelry.”
“Tsk tsk. That’s what happens when someone who’s lived poor suddenly starts making money.”
While other Wanderers drowned themselves in despair and spent money frivolously, not knowing when they might die…
Gam Un, who had founded the Beijing Wanderers' Guild with clear self-investment and seed funds, clicked his tongue in disapproval.
“I bragged so much to my contacts about showcasing his new work. This won’t do.”
How long has it been since he succeeded, and already he’s grown arrogant.
“Chairman, and also…”
“And also?”
“There’s been talk that other well-known artists are entering the Beastman Art industry, since word spread that it’s lucrative. So now there’s growing anticipation among the rich.”
“…Damn it.”
That meant supply was increasing, and Artist Neung Jin-sam, once the sole supplier, was losing his monopoly.
He was no longer unique. That implied the value of the paintings he’d been collecting would drop—and Chairman Gam Un’s idyllic retirement plan was now in jeopardy.
“Ah, no!”
“What’s wrong?”
“The price of Beastman Art is going to fall! We have to knock some sense into that guy!”
A major value crash in his investment target.
It was such a serious issue that the normally unshakable Chairman of the Wanderers’ Guild leapt up, face twisted with fury.
“Whuh? What’s this now?”
Hwang Geolgae looked curiously at the two splintered sticks suddenly held out before his eyes.
“Can’t you tell? It’s the shattered Hell-Revenge Staff.”
I’d just returned from Liaoning Province, and he looked at me with a baffled expression.
“Still the weirdest name I’ve ever heard. Why’d you slap a name like that onto your Dog-Beating Staff?”
“What? It sounds awesome. A favorite weapon deserves a name.”
Why does no one here understand the coolness?
Come to think of it, back in the old Troubleshooter Office, my subordinates used to shake their heads whenever I named our vehicles and equipment too.
“Anyway, it’s busted. You got a new one?”
“Nope, punk.”
“…Damn it.”
It was sturdy and long—perfect for clubbing people.
It wasn’t a blade, so it didn’t kill, just half-killed. That made it ideal.
“Come on, if you’ve got one hidden away, hand it over.”
“I told you, I don’t. You never listen, do you?”
No Spiritual Elixirs to aid my breakthrough, and my only club was gone. This old man really lived however he pleased, owning next to nothing.
And he was both the head of a sect and my Master.
“What the hell happened out there? That stick wasn’t the kind to break easily… and why did your Starfall Heart Cultivation Method advance again?”
Well, I did save the guy who once stabbed me in the gut—even risked my life.
Turns out that’s a top-grade remedy for Heaven-Slaying Star, who really wants to kill people.
When I struck him with the energy of the Starfall Heart Cultivation Method, he was practically in ecstasy.
“Did a good deed.”
“That’s not an answer. What happened?”
Hwang Geolgae asked with a sullen look, suspecting I’d gotten tangled up in something again.
“There was a Blood Cult guy using the Left Blood Law trying to abduct the Vice Captain of the Demon-Slaying Unit for some kind of Descent Ritual. We stopped him.”
That was Ilhong’s reply, who was wiping off the sweat from her training while recounting our exploits.
“Aigoo, my head. You really did get into something serious again, didn’t you?”
“And what was it… right, we also ran into that monster wielding Nangabong.”
The one he warned me to beware of before.
At that mention, Hwang Geolgae flinched.
Let me know when you’re ready for the next section.