Are You the Blue-Eyed Lion? (3)
A duel? A duuuuel? These people must be suffering from some fatal disease that kills them if they don't fight. Why make such a public spectacle of challenging me? It's deliberately awkward to refuse. This was probably calculated.
I met the eyes of the big fellow whose name was Eon-something. He was nearly as large as I was. His gaze burned with competitive spirit. He was clearly itching for a fight, body practically on fire with the urge. Men getting all worked up like this isn't my taste. Is a martial artist from the Western Regions really that appetizing to them?
"A duel, you say..."
"It is said that when martial artists meet, swordsmen cross blades and fist fighters exchange punches to build camaraderie."
First time I'm hearing that one.
"Therefore, I wish to compare the fists of the Western Regions with the fists of the Central Plains."
Given the situation, refusing would be difficult. That left me with only one real choice.
I offered a polite fist salute and spoke. "I am William Marshall. I'll accept the duel. Where do you want to hold it?"
"My thanks. The empty lot beside this inn looks suitable."
Since it had come to this, I might as well see what this so-called Central Plains fist style was all about.
I turned first and followed Eon Cheol-san as he strode out of the inn.
'The martial arts of the Western Regions. I wonder what they'll be like...'
He loosened up his body, lightly rotating his wrists and ankles. It was the kind of preparation that held no real value for murim warriors who solved everything with internal energy, but the man had always done it this way.
"This should make for quite the entertaining show."
"A clash between the Iron Wind Fist Supreme and the Blue-Eyed Lion? That's prime material for free drinks for the next few months."
"Are you thinking about mooching again already?"
"But there's nothing that tastes better than drinks someone else pays for. What do you want me to do about it?"
"Fair point."
The spectators and the people from the Hainan Sword Sect surrounded the empty lot. Even the innkeeper had opened the top-floor window and stuck his head out after hearing a duel was taking place.
Another innkeeper might have tried to stop it or simply sighed, but this man had survived decades in the business. In a commercial city where martial artists frequently passed through, he had quickly realized it was more profitable to provide a fighting space and create a proper spectacle. After all, brawls were an inevitable feature of any inn that catered to this crowd.
"Wang Sam, bring some wine."
"Yes, sir."
"A duel between a Westerner and a man of the Central Plains..."
Eyes full of curiosity poured over William.
'It reminds me of the duels on the battlefield.'
William recalled a memory that had faded over time, leaving only the vivid red. Turbans visible through the eye slits of helmets. Bronze skin. And... eyes filled with killing intent.
He blinked twice.
At some point, his opponent had transformed into the muscular man wearing the sort of martial robes you'd see in old Chinese dramas. The killing intent had been replaced by competitive spirit and curiosity.
A faint smile tugged at William's lips.
'Still feels incredibly awkward.'
"I am Eon Cheol-san, second son of the Eon Clan Lord of Jinju and known to my fellow murim warriors as the Iron Wind Fist! In this duel, I will use the Eon Clan Fist Style!"
"I am William Marshall, from the Western Regions. I have no clan. The people here call me the Blue-Eyed Lion. The art I use—what you would call martial arts—is Roman gladiatorial swordsmanship. I'll be using that."
He stepped forward with his right foot, slightly lowering his upper body while raising both arms to chest height. It was a simple stance, yet one that carried a subtle, inexplicable logic of combat.
'Rumors spoke of a man with a gaze like a lion staring down its prey, yet I don't see it.'
While rumors in the martial world tended to be exaggerated, the impression he gave was more rational than feral. Of course, the oppressive pressure radiating from that massive frame couldn't be ignored, but since he didn't seem to dominate the surroundings with the overwhelming aura the stories described, some of the spectators tilted their heads in confusion as they watched the two men.
'Soft fist or hard fist? It looks closer to hard fist, but...'
William observed Eon Cheol-san without stepping forward. Though he didn't know much about the martial arts of the Central Plains, the difference in feel between hard fist and soft fist was distinct enough that any technique that wasn't particularly strange would reveal its nature.
'Since he calls it Iron Wind Fist, it must lean toward hard fist.'
Whether it was completely one-sided or balanced in the middle. There wasn't much point in pondering that right now. If they kept this up, they'd simply continue staring at each other.
William, who wanted to end this quickly, spoke first.
"I'll yield the first move."
"Then I won't hold back."
With a short shout of "Hah!" Eon Cheol-san's figure blurred as he charged toward William at considerable speed.
William kept his eyes fixed on the man's fist and tilted his body to the left. The wind pressure from the punch whipped his hair back.
'Definitely hard fist.'
Judging by the force behind that punch, taking it cleanly would break bones. Despite his massive size, William moved with surprising agility. He deflected the incoming fist with the back of his hand as Eon Cheol-san retracted and threw another.
Then he countered with his own fist, driving it toward the man's face.
Eon Cheol-san simply tilted his head to the side as if it were nothing, easily avoiding the strike.
Both men created distance after their attacks failed and stared at each other.
The first exchange had ended in mutual failure. But from that initial clash, each had already assessed his opponent.
'His movements are concise. But there's nothing particularly special about them.'
Like most advanced martial arts, the counterattack didn't contain any overly elaborate techniques. At first glance, it was closer to simple punching than proper fist technique, but as a fist fighter himself, Eon Cheol-san could tell.
'This is practical combat fist work!'
Generally, the higher the level of martial art, the more it featured movements rarely seen in ordinary techniques. Advanced martial arts weren't simply about moving the body—they used internal energy to manifest certain principles in reality.
In short, even if the movements looked strange, high-level internal energy and proper principles allowed them to compete with practical combat techniques.
Yet William's movements showed no sign of such things.
'Is he hiding it on purpose, or is that really all there is?'
Still, Eon Cheol-san got the impression that something was missing from the man's fist style. He simply couldn't pinpoint what it was.
On the other hand, William hadn't taken a single step. He simply waited for Eon Cheol-san's next attack. The reason was simple: he had never learned any footwork techniques. If he attacked recklessly, he'd only expose weaknesses. If his opponent had been a common thug, he would have smashed the man's face into the ground regardless of footwork, but this was the son of a prestigious murim clan. Even if the man's level seemed lower than his own, he was not an opponent to take lightly.
'A solidly trained lower body anchoring a powerful single strike.'
All martial arts required a stable lower body. Humans were creatures who stood on two legs, after all.
That was why William slightly advanced his right foot and bent his knee.
Even without proper footwork techniques, the fundamentals of movement could still be learned. William crouched and kicked off the ground.
Thanks to his size, the charge carried the momentum of a wild beast rushing forward. As William bore down on Eon Cheol-san, the crowd's eyes turned to the latter.
A straightforward but simple charge. How would he respond?
Faced with William's terrifying momentum, Eon Cheol-san set his stance with burning eyes. There was no room for carelessness. Letting your guard down against an unknown enemy meant death.
Eon Cheol-san's stance widened. Veins bulged on the back of his hands.
He swung his fist at the oncoming William. It was an honest punch with no tricks, but it was fast enough to tear through the air.
William's eyes tracked the fist.
He spread his right foot outward and narrowly avoided the punch. For an ordinary martial artist, that moment would have decided the fight.
But Eon Cheol-san was no ordinary murim warrior.
'A kick!'
Though it was called fist technique, proper fist styles naturally included kicking methods. The moment William saw the right foot flying toward his solar plexus, he blocked the kick with his left arm instead of attacking.
The impact reverberated through both their bodies.
'It's like kicking a steel pillar!'
William ignored the pain in his arm. He clenched his right fist and thrust it forward. Having closed the distance to point-blank range, Eon Cheol-san had no choice but to use the Iron Bridge technique to avoid the punch.
Not realizing it wasn't a straight punch.
In an instant, William grabbed the front of Eon Cheol-san's robe and spun him in a circle.
It was a crisis that could end with him being slammed straight into the ground.
But Eon Cheol-san wasn't the type to take it lying down. He immediately bent his legs, planted his feet firmly on the ground, and used his lower body's strength to resist the throw.
William realized that holding on in his twisted position would only invite a counterattack. He released his grip, spun his body, and prepared for the next attack.
But Eon Cheol-san simply laughed heartily and created distance instead of pressing the assault.
"Magnificent! To use a technique that resembles the Taiji Fist of Wudang!"
The two men created distance once more.
"A shame. I was planning to end it with that last exchange."
"Haha! This body of mine has plenty of duel experience!"
Eon Cheol-san laughed boldly as he straightened his clothes.
"To counter a feint with another feint. This is going to be a close match."
'He's more troublesome than I expected.'
If William had his main weapon, the sword, he could have handled the man easily. But fighting with bare fists made him a rather annoying opponent.
'He seems sturdy, so it's better to overwhelm him in one go.'
William's figure shot forward once again. After all, gladiatorial swordsmanship was an art that truly shone when taking the offensive.