Chapter 281
Chapter 281
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.62 – What Justification Does a Knight Need to Fight? (3)
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When I used to read old martial arts novels, there was this one common trope that popped up all the time.
"How dare you use evil sorcery! I'll kill you to avenge my disciple who died unjustly!"
"No, that's not sorcery—it's our sect's secret Invincible Martial Art. And your disciple was a criminal who trafficked people and committed murder, wasn't he?"
"Shut your mouth!"
"......"
"You dare ignore me?!"
"What am I supposed to do...?"
This kind of development where grudges form from broken logic or hypocritical double standards create a pretext for fighting.
It's one of those tropes that people either love or hate, but since it shows up so often, anyone who's read a fair share of martial arts novels just thinks, "Eh, whatever..." and rolls with it.
And that's because, after the stabbing starts—
"I might be from the Nine Great Sects or one of the Five Great Families, so even if I tried to kill you, you have to let it slide. And you need to stand with us righteous factions and become a hunting dog, throwing your life away against the Demonic Cult or weird organizations later on."
...the tropes run so wild that even that feels tame and straightforward by comparison.
- Of course, martial arts novels are all about trash personalities—that's the root of it.
Lee Han had nodded along to that kind of brainwashing himself.
But...
'...Actually going through it myself? This pisses me off.'
Lee Han glared at the opponent who was directing baseless assumptions and hostility his way, a wave of disgust washing over him.
Who the hell are you to block me and judge me...?
Not only had he interfered with finishing off the monster, but watching him make up delusions and bare his fangs only made the irritation worse.
Seeing this made it clear: the protagonists in martial arts novels who endured this crap and even called those guys "大哥" or friends had to be true saints. Or put the other way around...
Crack.
'Guess I'm not cut out to be a saint.'
Lee Han drew his axe instead of his sword and fixed the man with a glare.
He could delude himself all he wanted, but Lee Han had no reason to indulge it.
As Lee Han began slowly ramping up his presence...
Clank.
"?"
...the opponent suddenly set his sword down on the ground.
"Hmph! Come at me!! I'll face you barehanded, monster!!"
"Why?"
"Because you might not be a monster but a human! So I won't use a weapon!!"
"...What?"
Lee Han was so baffled that his surging disgust faltered and faded entirely. He wondered what nonsense this guy was spouting.
"You claimed to be human with your own mouth! I have no way to tell if that's true or false!! In other words, I might make the mistake of pointing a blade at a human!! So I thought about it and remembered my master's words. He said that when in doubt, set down your sword and use your fists!! You'll sense the truth in your opponent's heart once fists clash...! What wise teaching!!!"
"......"
"Come on! Warrior of unknown origin—monster or man!! My name is Felix! Knight of proud Modred!!"
"......"
"Why aren't you coming?"
"...No idea if you're just good-hearted, insane, or some weirdo."
"As if there are humans that weird in the world!!"
"Yeah... "
......I never thought I'd meet one.
Felix de Modred.
If the knights of the kingdom heard that name, most would widen their eyes in shock.
Not only did he bear the moniker "Fighting Dog" of Modred himself, but he was none other than the young knight representing the south among the Seven.
One veteran knight who had met all Seven said of the young knights: if any surpassed Galahad's Ferocious Fang and Lionel's Black Lion as the best, it would be the Fighting Dog.
When asked why, the veteran replied:
- Because he's dumb and simple.
- Huh?
- That's why he's a strong knight.
- ??
Mysterious words, but regardless, Felix de Modred was undoubtedly a knight with the potential to become the south's greatest in the future.
No knight had objected to the veteran's assessment.
So the people had great expectations.
If the hype was already this high back then, how much stronger would he be now?
And right now...
Bam!!
"!"
...Felix was flying backward from his opponent's fist.
Felix stood 2.8 meters tall with a weight approaching 250kg to match.
He outclassed even Maximus in size, and it wasn't just bulk—his body was packed with solid muscle without a trace of fat, like a living weapon.
Yet such a man had been sent flying about 2 meters by a fist from someone much smaller.
Even though he'd clearly blocked it...
Tremble!
His guarding arm went numb.
It was literally...
"No different from an iron fist!!"
"You're so damn loud, you know that?"
"A loud voice is no flaw!!"
"W-Well, that's true, I guess?"
Whoosh!
As the fist shot forward again in an instant, Felix didn't block this time—he threw his own punch.
Kaboom!!
The next moment, a massive shock like a lightning bolt erupted.
It was the clash of the two men's fists, forcing each back a step.
"...How did you train your body like that?"
A slightly surprised expression.
Felix looked shocked to meet someone who could trade barehanded blows with him, but he wore a satisfied smile too as he declared proudly.
"Hmph! For five years, I trained under a waterfall! This cavern has stronger gravity than outside too!! All these conditions forge me!! So I proudly claim my body rivals steel!!"
"Impressive."
"You're impressive too!!!"
"Th-Thanks?"
"Here I come again!!"
"You supposed to announce it first?"
"Hup!"
Instead of answering, Felix inhaled deeply and swung his fist.
Whoosh!
A crude punch, rough as could be.
No finesse—just the clumsy movements of some local brawler known for his fists.
Nothing like the stance of a pro knight. One might mistake it for a lack of skill, but...
Thud!!
"!"
The truth hit with the first strike.
He didn't need technique—crudeness was his strength.
A simple, overwhelming punch that could shake castle walls.
"Is that a fist or a cannon...?"
It didn't feel like a punch at all. His opponent grumbled dramatically, but Felix just laughed heartily.
"It's been ages since I met someone who could block my strikes! No—first since Sir Maximus!!"
"...That guy?"
"We sparred briefly five years ago! He was incredibly strong! By now, as I've grown, so must Sir Maximus!! But you're no slouch either! Warrior of unknown origin!!"
"......"
"My punching fist hurts! I'm curious what your body's made of!!"
"Same to you... "
"Hmph! What was that!!"
"...Just shut up and charge. My ears hurt."
"Very well!!!"
"......"
...Better to just swing fists than talk.
It was a quiet mutter, but Felix's booming voice drowned it out entirely.
Crack!
Thud!
Lee Han and Felix.
The two battered each other barehanded, weapons and armor discarded.
Anyone watching might think it was a choreographed play—they struck without mercy.
Heads, stomachs as basics; eyes, solar plexus, sides, even each other's manhood without hesitation.
A brutal brawl with no holding back.
One might doubt if the blows were light, but...
Kaboom!!
Each strike boomed like a cannon shot, proclaiming its power.
Crunch!
Lee Han's glancing fist smashed into the wall, not tofu but shattering it into chunks.
A fearsome blow, and to think Felix took dozens without flinching—what kind of monster was he? But then...
Thud!!
Felix's punch missed by 1cm and pulverized a boulder to dust.
Proof they'd each taken the equivalent of dozens of cannon blasts. Anyone seeing this frenzy would get chills.
Thinking they'd be minced meat in seconds.
The knights' slugfest was a terrifying spectacle that made legs shake.
Yet...
"Ptoo."
"Hoo!!"
The two knights' faces remained unscathed—unreal.
Only their expressions showed awe; their eyes burned with knightly fervor.
'What kind of freak is this guy?'
Lee Han was convinced.
Compared to this one, Maximus wasn't even brutish.
'This guy's gone all-in on raw power like an idiot.'
Lee Han's admiration stemmed from this.
If knights were game characters with detailed stats—agility, endurance, strength, stamina, technique, etc.—five at least, ten at most.
This man before him was extreme.
Pure Power!
Stats like intellect, wisdom, technique, judgment should be balanced for knight life, but this guy screamed, "Screw that—I'm maxing strength!"
'A different flavor of crazy from that Maximus guy.'
Maximus: if caps were 100, he'd maxed everything evenly.
A perfect all-rounder with no weaknesses.
Lee Han: even spread, but strength and endurance at 102, rest under 90.
Extreme in a way, but balanced enough.
This guy, though...
'Strength at 105, everything else tops out at 60 or 70.'
But did that make him weak?
Whoosh!
'Nope.'
Kaboom!!
With a crunch, Lee Han's body lifted off and flew.
Luckily balanced—he landed steadily without tumbling—but his blocking arm tingled.
A crude punch he could've dodged...
"Ha, what the hell kind of power is this?"
The gravitational pull from the force sucked him in like a vacuum.
Impossible to evade; a novel sensation.
"...So with that much power, no need for skill or brains."
"Power is just a tool! What's vital is unyielding conviction!!"
"......"
"What's wrong?"
"...Nah, you just seem like the model knight."
"Even praise won't make me go easy!!!"
"Yeah, yeah."
He meant it sincerely.
Lee Han had never seen such a textbook knight.
Because...
'The simpler and dumber, the stronger the knight—turns out it's true.'
Among all knights he'd met, Felix was the most extremely simple and brutish. Lee Han let out a hollow laugh.
Wonder if others feel this way looking at me...
'Where'd this monster come from...?'
Meanwhile, Felix thought differently. 'Heh, my punching fist is cracking—what the hell?' The more he hit, the more damage he took himself. Felix wondered what he was even fighting. '...Not human, huh?'
He seemed human, yet doubt crept in—this human weapon.