A Needle in the Bag (4)
Squeeeeeak!
The spear tip shot forward like an arrow, its sharpness defying imagination. It hadn't even grazed his skin, yet his entire neck throbbed with pain. It was a battle-honed spear art, radiating dense killing intent and chilling sharpness.
Fast.
Fast, but not beyond response. Cheong Ho's upper body shifted sideways just a fraction.
Thud!
The spear shaft rocketed skyward. With a short, elastic half-palm strike, he'd not only deflected its path but bounced it back. One move revealed the truth.
Cheong Ho's skill was the real deal. His fist fighting had reached a profound realm.
Strong.
Cheong Ho's eyes gleamed.
Strong, but lacking experience...
That was when it happened.
Pwaaaang!
The kick slicing through the air was even fiercer than the spear art, exploding with force. Cheong Ho was startled. The speed surpassed the near-ambush spear thrust, and the power threatened to shove his entire upper body backward.
Kwaang!
Cheong Ho's body staggered. A heavy blow. If he hadn't crossed his arms to block, his neck bones would have snapped in an instant.
His bare-hand fighting is even stronger?
Was spear art not his primary martial art?
Taaaang!
Shocking enough already, but it didn't end there. Despite unleashing a grand, powerful kick technique, his footwork in that brief moment was light and nimble.
Yeon Hojeong's fists erupted like flames.
Tatatatatang!
Cheong Ho's skill was equally astounding, blocking the barrage of chain fists with both hands. Puueong!
Yeon Hojeong's outer robe couldn't withstand the air pressure and tore open.
Riiip!
Cheong Ho's clothing tore long at the shoulder where the piercing hand grazed past. A razor-close match.
Of course, Cheong Ho was deliberately avoiding lethal strikes, but their core skills seemed evenly matched.
Hooook!
Was constant retreat bruising his pride? Cheong Ho slapped away Yeon Hojeong's fist with an elastic short strike, then dove into his guard in a flash.
Yeon Hojeong's eyes sparkled.
Like a beast.
Nothing like the formal white path martial arts. This fist fighting was formless, heavily influenced by the practitioner's instincts. A black path art.
Unlike white path arts that yielded great power through steady practice, this fighting style depended on innate talent and forcibly honed reaction speed.
Cheong Ho's fists targeted Yeon Hojeong's upper body from all angles.
Pupupupuung!
Yeon Hojeong blocked the onslaught with godlike movement. An elastic clash at ultra-close range.
The unresolved shockwaves shredded both men's upper garments to rags.
"Impressive," Jegal A-yeon murmured heavily as she approached Gadeuksang.
"Such skill. To think he'd match Third Brother evenly..."
"Nah, Junior Sister."
"Huh?"
Jegal A-yeon looked at Gadeuksang puzzled. His expression was oddly complex—surprised, admiring, subtly worried.
"Third's got no limits, seriously."
"What do you mean?"
Then Paeryul whispered, "He's deliberately matching the opponent's level."
Jegal A-yeon's eyes widened.
"Matching him?"
"Yeah."
Dang Sang-a chimed in, entranced. "Third Brother's far stronger than that Cheong Ho guy. But it looks neck-and-neck on the surface. That's the amazing part."
Jegal A-yeon was inwardly skeptical. If you had superior martial arts, faking a close fight with a weaker foe shouldn't be hard.
Gadeuksang explained. "Even a grandmaster go player at the pinnacle can't fool a lesser player into thinking they're equals. It's the same in any field."
"...Ah!"
"It's not just holding back—it's dragging the fight out to make the opponent believe you're evenly matched. Takes insane combat experience and fluid martial execution. Impossible otherwise."
Gadeuksang gave a wry smile. "Hate to admit it, but hanging with Third keeps things from getting boring, lol."
Jegal A-yeon gazed at Yeon Hojeong anew.
Who the hell are you, really?
He pulled off the unthinkable as naturally as breathing. No end to his talents in sight.
"But..."
She eyed the six masters tensely. Despite their chilling killing intent, they hadn't joined the duel.
"That method's dangerous."
"Yeah. Risky as hell."
"Can this prove we're from Mujongmun?"
"Dunno... But I doubt Third jumped in without certainty."
Jegal A-yeon studied Gadeuksang quietly.
"You know him best, Big Brother."
"Huh?"
"Heard you two had a serious spat a couple days ago."
Gadeuksang snorted. "We see the world differently. If we didn't respect each other, we'd have drawn blades from the start—no friendship built."
"Heh."
"Don't love his style, but it's Third."
Gadeuksang grinned wryly. "He'll pull it off somehow. That's the trust we got."
Pwaaaang!
The air-splitting boom rang especially loud. Cheong Ho, pushed back three or four steps, deepened his gaze.
What a monster.
Fearsome bare-hand fighting. No predicting attacks from above, below, left, right. Even his beast-like reflexes and battle-forged predictions couldn't read the next move.
And.
Thuuud!
Yeon Hojeong's low-rising body leaped airborne, unleashing flashy kicks.
Pupupuung!
Chain Triangle Kicks. A variable assault so adept even seasoned masters could falter—a seamless martial switch.
Trained in multiple arts.
While taking Yeon Hojeong's attacks, Cheong Ho had spotted five distinct fist styles. Even he, a fist expert, rarely saw someone master so many unrelated types.
Mujongmun, huh?
Linking utterly different arts by trait, type, purpose. What more direct proof?
But this ain't enough.
Cheong Ho's eyes flashed murderously.
Stopping at this level? No way I can face Elder.
He recalled Yang Cheon's words.
'Proving Mujongmun origin is obvious. But the real key? How line-less they can go.'
'...?'
'Before confirming Mujongmun, I want them proving their own worth. If they click with me, I won't care if they're righteous path.'
'...Understood.'
'Line-less talents. Smart ones too—bring 'em, risks be damned.'
Cheong Ho knew exactly why Yang Cheon sent him. Like the other Twelve Branch Gods, he excelled at emotional control—key for his sensory, beastly art.
To him, Yeon Hojeong was ambiguous now.
'Proved Mujongmun with art variety. Fine, I'll buy that.'
His eyes deepened.
'But will he cross the line? Or settle for proof?'
Then.
Puuung!
A particularly fierce fist wind shoved Cheong Ho back. Yeon Hojeong kicked up the nearby spear shaft.
Spear?
Cheong Ho's eyes wavered.
He wields spear too?
Was the opening spear thrust not a feint for carelessness?
His sharp eyes caught Yeon Hojeong's palm—calluses from gripping a shaft properly.
Spear master!!
Pwaaaang!
Yeon Hojeong leaped toward the six masters' position.
Cheong Ho shouted, "Scatter!"
Too late.
Pupupupupuuk!
Two Tiger Ghosts crumpled unconscious from spear strikes. Powerful, elastic spear art. Shaft hits, not blade—or temples would be pierced fatally.
Yeon Hojeong's spear blazed.
Puuk! Tiiing! Seok!
The remaining four Tiger Ghosts staggered back, silent—no groans, no screams. That's how they were trained.
But faces betrayed urgency.
Cheong Ho's body moved at uncanny speed.
Flash!
Thuuuud!
Yeon Hojeong's spear whipped sideways. Puuk! Puuuk!
Dull thuds echoed as both retreated five steps.
Cheong Ho glanced at his abdomen. Clothing holed, blood staining red.
Close call.
A split-second slower, gutted.
Such potent spear art. Primary is fists? No, spear?
Then Yeon Hojeong's voice.
"Damn it."
Cheong Ho looked. Yeon Hojeong grimaced, rubbing his shoulder.
"Hiding your skill, huh? Stings pretty good."
Cheong Ho growled low. "What the hell?"
"What?"
"Why touch my men?"
Yeon Hojeong grinned viciously. "Prove Mujongmun origin, right?"
"Proof, not lethal strikes."
"Hilarious. Send killers packing alive if unproven?"
"...!"
"And it's good for your Elder too, no?"
"What?"
Yeon Hojeong slung the spear on his shoulder. Leisurely poise oozed beastly ferocity blurring friend-foe lines.
"Tu Wang's arts top the Central Plains. If his men can't withstand me, thank me for culling the weak?"
"..."
"Bonus: skips pointless power demos—like initiation rites."
Cheong Ho's brow twitched.
Cunning bastard.
Thought steps ahead before fight even started. Smart. No idiot, that much. Plus arrogant confidence he'd meet the Elder.
Cheong Ho decided.
"You pass."
"Hm?"
"I'll take you to Muk Ryong Bu."
Yeon Hojeong smirked. "This enough?"
"Yes."
"Verification too lax?"
Cheong Ho turned. "Elder judges all. My task ends here."
"..."
"We leave soon. Prepare."
"Fine."
Yeon Hojeong grinned. "Let's get along."
Cheong Ho ignored him, reviving the fallen Tiger Ghosts.
Gadeuksang approached Yeon Hojeong. "How's it? Safe to go straight to Yang Cheon?"
Yeon Hojeong nodded faintly. He transmitted mentally instead of speaking.
Their reactions confirm it. Yang Cheon lacks talent right now. He'll eagerly meet anyone capable and clever, risks notwithstanding.
Gadeuksang smacked his lips.
Stuck in a rut forever, then bam—meeting set in a flash. Didn't see that coming.
Yeon Hojeong smirked.
Where are the current Open Gang disciples?
Nearby, but that's it. In case I got caught, didn't memorize locations to avoid spilling.
How to contact them?
Like before. Passive, but works.
Leave traces en route.
No worries. Good work.
And Huigae.
Huh?
Sorry about the other day.
Gadeuksang spat one word.
Bullshit.
Yeon Hojeong chuckled, turning to Paeryul. "Prepare, Martial Uncle."
"Right."