Chapter 114
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 114
Chapter Title: Gang Body
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A swordsman's weapon is the sword.
A fist master's weapon is their body.
This is no mere metaphor—especially for fist masters who have reached the supreme realm.
A body forged harder than tempered steel becomes a divine weapon in itself.
Even compared to those at the same level, fist masters demonstrate superiority in all physical attributes: strength, agility, endurance, reflexes, and more.
This is the pure advantage of their physique, unhindered by the drawback of not wielding a weapon. It's why supreme fist masters are considered a full rank stronger in actual combat.
In other words, So-hyang had declared she would face an armed warrior barehanded.
"...It is clear that you stand at a higher realm than I, but to clash fists against a fist master—"
"Oh, come on, why is your tongue so long?"
So-hyang decisively cut off the general's words.
Between warriors, there's always a more fitting way to converse than wagging tongues.
So-hyang dropped all courtesy and formality, flashing a provocative smile as she crooked her finger.
If you want me to draw my sword, prove you deserve it.
In other words: prove it through martial prowess.
"Ha, fine...!"
The general's brows furrowed deeply. Without another word, he unleashed a straight punch at So-hyang's face.
And So-hyang subtly twisted her body to evade, then swung her fist along that same angle.
Left hand: an upper hook to the side of the abdomen.
Right hand: a straight piercing the solar plexus.
Left hand again: an uppercut squarely landing on the jaw.
No wasted motion between strikes—a seamless combo flowing like water in an instant.
No complex flourishes like Central Plains martial arts, but the essence of her past life's fist art, boxing: simple, precise mechanics honed to perfection.
"...Hah."
The general, who had eaten three hits in the blink of an eye, let out a disbelieving chuckle.
"If you want me to draw my sword, beat me with your fists first."
Suddenly, So-hyang's lips curved wickedly, her eyes sharpening as a barrage of fists rained down on the general.
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Fists clashing against fists, legs against legs—explosive blasts and gusts erupted endlessly.
The exchanges happened at such ferocious speeds that even peak masters could barely catch the afterimages, let alone ordinary onlookers.
Yet for these two experts, it was merely a probing skirmish, far from their full power.
No full deployment of internal energy, no Gang Qi cladding, no ultimate techniques.
Even holding back, the general gauged So-hyang's prowess.
First, their physical abilities were evenly matched.
Strength, speed, durability—on par with his own as a fist master. Pure raw power might even surpass his.
No traces of external hardening arts, yet this sheer bodily might from Bone Transformation alone?
But that wasn't the key issue.
In equal conditions, victory hinges on skill. Here, clashing fists, it meant mastery of fist techniques.
The real problem: even in a fist fight, he was losing the exchange war.
"Whoops, opening."
"-Kuh!"
The general's fist art, paired with his Golden Thunder Divine Art: Thunderbolt Flash Chain Fist.
As the name implied, it pursued utmost speed and power, seizing initiative through relentless combos—an aggressive style.
Yet So-hyang's fists were faster, more aggressive.
"What in the world...!"
The general couldn't help but panic.
True speed's essence wasn't raw limb velocity, but erasing gaps between motions—a refined technique.
All martial arts start with body control, so experts naturally excel in fist arts.
But how could foundational swordsmanship outstrip a fist master honed solely on fists? Absurd.
He couldn't even identify her style.
Even in formless realm, patterns should exist—yet her movements were wildly free, utterly inconsistent.
Each strike a new fist art, each step a novel footwork—overwhelming mastery beyond prediction.
"Hmm, overthinking?"
So-hyang gently yanked the general's wrist, upsetting his balance, floating him airborne before slamming him down.
"Wha...!?"
Rooted in soft techniques, evolved to near-mystical heights, original form lost.
In that split-second lapse, vision flipped, a midair spin crashing him down—stunned briefly—
"-So, got time to think?"
Muscle fibers twisted audibly in her clenched fist, power so immense it seemed to suck in the air.
Contraction and release—the basic principle of wielding force in martial arts.
Taken to its limit.
Fierce muscle contours flashed across her sleek forearm, then her fist plummeted toward the general's face.
Thunder roared, earth erupted like a volcano.
"Oh ho?"
Interest gleamed in So-hyang's eyes.
Annoyed by his distracted thoughts despite facing her, she'd struck seriously.
"...Indeed, I've shown shame."
Yet the punch landed fully on his face without crumpling nose or caving cheeks.
Instead, her fist stung.
From the general's body emanated a faint starlight akin to golden thunder.
Gang Qi.
Energy amassed and compressed to critical density, manifesting tangibly.
The mightiest force a human can wield—a dense, solid substance.
Supreme experts clad swords to sharpen edges, hurl or shoot it offensively, or armor themselves defensively.
The common thread: Gang Qi is used externally.
Obviously.
Shoving destruction incarnate—ultra-dense, materialized energy—into one's body would shatter even a Bone Transformed frame.
Except for fist masters, who tempered limbs through endless tearing, slashing, shattering, exploding, burning, rotting.
When their bodies reach Bone Transformation...
Becoming tougher, fiercer, denser than other experts is baseline.
More crucially, their fundamental nature changes.
Like a masterfully forged sword, overwhelming affinity to accept, contain, and channel energy.
The material being their own flesh surpasses any divine weapon.
A body saturated with Gang Qi like a sponge with water transcends limits.
The unique domain of fist masters, who weaponize their flesh alone.
"Ah, so this is the fabled Gang Body—"
The pinnacle of external arts, also called Diamond Indestructible or Impervious to Blades.
"One shouldn't obsess over what they lack. Now taste my forte."
The general's shaken eyes cleared as thoughts aligned. From his prone position, he backhanded So-hyang's face.
In slowed time, So-hyang admired the callus-laden hand knuckles rushing to her nose.
"My, my."
A strike laden with otherworldly weight—and speed.
So-hyang's body rocketed skyward from the direct facial hit.
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Midair, So-hyang recalled the sensation on her face.
Gang Qi-infused physique: evolved strength, speed beyond compare.
Above all, incredibly tough.
Likely surpassing monster hides or divine armaments in durability—a supreme material unyielding even to Gang Qi strikes.
Truly Diamond Indestructible.
"Got time for that?"
The general didn't wait for her descent, leaping to pursue.
Kicking off empty air powerfully, he whipped his leg fully empowered.
So-hyang, side-kicked, plummeted faster than freefall, cratering the ground.
"Ahahaha, took my words to heart, huh?"
Floating the foe airborne then slamming down—just like she'd done to him earlier.
Brushing dirt from her clothes as she rose, So-hyang laughed delightedly.
The general, despite his first successful hit, hardened his expression.
"...You—what external art do you practice?"
External arts temper the body visibly upon mastery.
Thus, despite exceptional might, he'd assumed no durability-focused art.
Yet the ambiguous impact on his leg: softly absorbing, yet instantly hardening to blunt the blow.
No gasp from the kick, casually dusting off.
"Something like that. My body's a bit special."
So-hyang rolled up her sleeve to show her skin, figuring seeing beats explaining.
Pale forearm studded with titanium piercings. Soft-looking, and indeed soft...
But slamming her fist into it rang with a clear metallic tone unbelievable from human flesh.
"It hardens in response to physical impact."
A non-Newtonian flesh with variable viscosity.
Skin and muscles engineered to dynamically shift density, efficiently resisting external shocks.
In past-life terms: tanking an anti-tank missile head-on without a scratch, no energy cladding or deflection tricks.
"No way... what even is that...?"
The general looked beyond disbelief—utterly deflated.
A swordmaster with fist-master-level defense? Unheard of.
At least not full Gang Body integration, but still shocking.
Sighing deeply, he wrapped his clenched fist in golden Thunder Gang Qi.
"...But it won't withstand Gang Qi."
No metal, however tough, endures Gang Qi's indestructible penetration.
"Yeah, probably not."
Her displayed skill, the astonishing external art—yet the general saw clear superiority.
With Gang Body active, her attacks couldn't harm him.
Conversely, his Gang Qi strikes pierced her defenses.
She'd dodge most with her prowess, defend with her own Gang Qi perhaps...
But one-sided offense was overwhelming advantage.
Victory certain, though time-consuming.
"Milady, draw your sword."
Assuming she kept it sheathed.
Probing done—time to clash fortes.
"Hmm, nah...'
But that was just his view.
So-hyang smiled sweetly, stomped lightly, and breezed past him.
"Not sword-worthy yet."
A thin bloodline etched the general's side.
"-Guh, what...!?"
Not a fist—her straightened palm edge, from pinky to wrist, clad in pure white Spirit Gang Qi: a hand blade.
"Said no sword, not no slicing."
Clashing hand blades lightly rang like grinding sword edges, eerie metal screech.
"Hah, damn it, what the..."
No technique, no Gang Qi sword—just a hand blade piercing his Gang Body.
The general felt that inexplicable shock anew.