Chapter 53
Chapter 53
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: Panterion
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Most martial artists need it, but assassins especially must have sharp eyes.
The basic weapon an assassin handles is a hidden weapon. A dagger swung openly in hand is technically one type of hidden weapon if you get picky, but beyond daggers, hidden weapons come in endless varieties.
Some are thinner than a hair, others light enough to be carried by the wind, and some as small as grains of sand. An assassin failing to spot their own hidden weapons is unforgivable, so naturally, they need keen eyesight.
The Tang Clan dominates the assassin gates with their mastery of hidden weapons and poisons.
Even though she despised it, Ha-ryeong was born into the Tang Clan. Despite never being exposed to the outside due to various circumstances, she was evaluated as peerless among the direct descendants in martial arts talent.
Yet even Ha-ryeong couldn't properly track Yuri's movements just now. He had clearly been beside her, but suddenly he was far ahead, and before she could even be surprised by the shift, he shattered the leg of that slouching thug.
Ten men. Ha-ryeong slowly blinked as she surveyed the surroundings. Their broken legs varied in position, but the method of breaking them was identical. In that swift kick, all she saw was the reddish afterimage left by his leg.
'Thunder Cloud, they called it.'
The moniker stuck to Yuri because of the harmony between the Scattered Cloud Drifting Fist and the Self-Rotating Thunder Flash Art. The Scattered Cloud Drifting Fist inherently embodies speed, flow, and variability. Topped with the pinnacle thunder art, the Self-Rotating Thunder Flash.
They said his path of ultimate speed resembled clouds harboring lightning—hence, Thunder Cloud.
But just now, Yuri hadn't swung a single fist. He only used footwork and kicks, with no visible thunder energy.
'I saw his footwork back in Logos too, but still.'
The opponents then were mere goblins that could be beaten with a club, but Ha-ryeong had glimpsed the essence of Moonlit Dance in his footwork.
Now, that essence was gone.
[What about the kick art?]
[I made it.]
As expected. Ha-ryeong let out a hollow chuckle with an expressionless face and nodded.
That man hadn't just raised his tier over two years.
Hunting bounties, acting as a fixer and mercenary in the black path, repeating real combat—it had perfected his fist art and led him to create his own needed martial art.
Realizing that, Ha-ryeong understood just how much she had underestimated Yuri yesterday.
Orsia Clan, who stunned the world by reaching the 5th tier at 21—the heaven-sent talent they boasted, Sword Dragon Estor Orsia.
From childhood, he trained in the Orsia Clan's divine arts and learned the sword directly from the Sword Emperor. He received the world's finest genius education. And not just that? Rumor had it he consumed the pinnacle artificial elixir from the Ascard Family in his growth years, plus various other spirit elixirs.
Now look at that man. If Yuri truly had no ties to the demonic cult. If he wasn't a hidden disciple of the Heavenly Demon. If he possessed this body in the spring of his 20th year and first started martial arts then.
In three years, reaching the peak of the 5th tier, mastering multiple arts simultaneously, and even inventing what he needed.
That talent far exceeded the bounds of a possessor. Even the Sword Dragon would pale in a pure talent comparison.
The screams drifting from the landfill entrance faded one by one.
"Hot stuff."
Clap, clap. Applause came from behind, but he ignored it. Yuri finished off the scattered thugs one by one, then dragged the bodies and tossed them deep into the landfill.
Yuri rubbed the ground with his toe and looked up. A wide clearing, trash piled like mountains. Among it, quite a few corpses. Stripped bare wasn't enough—eyes and hair yanked out, they looked like mannequins.
"What the fuck?"
Six men burst from a shack behind the trash and bodies. The ten whose legs Yuri crippled were 3rd-tier small fry, but these newcomers all looked 4th tier or better.
"An ambush?"
A bald man with a vicious face glared with bulging eyes. Yuri didn't answer, just tapped the ground toe-first, thump, thump.
"Need a hand?"
Ha-ryeong asked, and Yuri shook his head.
"Good. My stomach's not great."
"Why."
"Yesterday's food must've gone bad. Should've broken their legs too, knowing this."
He was exaggerating. The food had been tampered with, but it was no issue for someone from the Tang Clan like Ha-ryeong.
"What the hell are you bastards!"
The bald man bellowed. His hefty cleaver swung at Yuri. The other four gripped similar-sized cleavers; the last one held no weapon. Instead, he slipped back and drew a short wand from his waist.
White blade energy rippled from the lead bald man's cleaver. The other four lagged slightly but drew theirs too.
Five 4th-tier blade users, and a mage? Unlike martial artists whose tiers show openly, a mage's tier reveals only when magic manifests.
Usually.
'4th tier.'
A possessor's mana comprehension and affinity. Yuri didn't know other possessors, but he could discern the spell's foundation just by focusing.
That sense sharpened with higher tiers. Now, Yuri could see the mage's soul force—unfamiliar to him—and the mana flow it drew.
'Wind attribute.'
Wind magic was intuitive and easy to handle, one of the most common.
Three spells blurred and merged into one.
He'd hoped for a 5th tier at least. A bit disappointing.
"I asked what the fuck you are!"
The bald man roared. The shout itself was bullshit. Whoosh! The mage hidden behind the blade users unleashed his spell. A towering wind surge crashed like a wave.
At the same instant, Yuri's foot moved. His leg rose to waist height and kicked empty air.
Swoosh, his extended foot. The motion substituted the spell. Internal energy rose from his dantian, crossed meridians to his leg, and his soul force resonated with it.
Martial art fused with magic. Whoosh! Vortexes of internal energy swirled from his foot, piercing the wind wave. Not kicking empty air—his foot precisely struck the spell's core, collapsing it.
"Ghck."
Not content with destruction, the intruding internal energy reversed the mana flow. The mage spat blood and staggered back.
No time for the blade users to react. Thump, thump, boom! His toe pushed off the ground. In an instant, Yuri closed in on them.
The bald man hastily swung his cleaver. A blood-red aura-clad foot blocked it. Crunch! One clash shattered the blade energy.
?!
Aura!
In a flash, options swirled in the bald man's mind: Don't match strength. Retreat and send minions first. Force the blade's path elsewhere. Yield anticipating breakage then counter. Just run.
None worked. Same flesh and bone, yet the foe flowed like water. The clashing leg twisted grotesquely, then the sole slammed his chest.
Boom!
No scream escaped. Blood poured from his open mouth. As the bald man tumbled, his minions' stances were awkward.
How many seconds passed? They finally steadied and swung.
Blade energy flashed from all sides. A decent formation. They seemed skilled at coordinated attacks.
No need to dodge carefully. Past 4th tier, martial fighters become trickier than most. Before protective aura, they use energy cloaks to counter same-tier sword energy.
From then, calling the body a weapon isn't exaggeration; at 5th tier with aura manifestation, it's a lethal one.
"Wow."
Ha-ryeong clapped in admiration.
Focusing this time, she caught the movements. Body undulating with each step. Most astonishing: the kick trajectories. Legs felt like tentacles or whips, bending as if with dozens of joints.
Not just martial art. Somehow, magic infused the motion itself.
Meaning, in two years, he'd not only trained martial arts but entered magic too.
'Not using fists... because they're unworthy? Or refining this kick art further?'
Bored just watching, she considered tossing a hidden weapon, but it ended too fast. Ha-ryeong slyly pocketed hers.
"Ughhh..."
When the bald man, clutching his caved chest, opened his eyes, the sole survivor among minions was the pale-faced mage.
"Your name's Mak-cheol, right?"
Yuri sat on a large crate like a chair, staring down Mak-cheol.
"You seem like the boss, so I spared you. Got questions. Lie, and teeth fly."
"You son of a—do you know where this i—"
Crunch!
A stomped foot crushed Mak-cheol's toes.
"Ughhhh...!"
Pain that would've spiked nonexistent hair. Mak-cheol shuddered, groaning long.
"Teeth... you said teeth...!"
Absurdity slipped out—crack! A heavy hand slapped his cheek. Shattered teeth mixed with blood sprayed.
"Crushed toes so you'd talk easier, but your attitude... unbearable."
"Wh-what... do you want...?"
Mak-cheol drooled sticky blood, stammering. He focused on his internal energy, plotting attack at any gap.
Thwack!
Yuri's toe speared his dantian like a spear. Internal energy scattered. Foaming Mak-cheol's eyes rolled back.
"You're good at fighting, I'll admit, but torture? No talent."
Ha-ryeong stepped forward from behind.
"Torture isn't just about pain. Carrot and stick—know it?"
"Confident? Take over."
"That's why I'm here. What do you want from him? Heretic whereabouts? Won't spill that easily."
"No minions, travels solo. 5th tier."
Yuri answered.
"Mage is fine, but martial artist preferred."
"Wh-why the sudden casual speech?"
"Not to you, sis—to Mak-cheol."
Ha-ryeong blinked at the reply.
"Sudden sis?"
"Awkward calling names here, so sis just for now."
Made sense on second thought. Yuri used transformation arts even on his face; Ha-ryeong veiled her mouth. Calling names like this was silly.
"Then what should I call my little bro?"
"Crimson Foot."
Why Crimson Foot? No long pondering.
"Kicks glow red, so Crimson Foot?"
"..."
"Instant answer means you prepped it. Crimson Foot bro, naming sense is tragic."
Ha-ryeong clicked her tongue, standing before Mak-cheol.
"So, Crimson Foot sir, prefers martial artist? Weapon?"
"Anything fine, but martial fighter ideal."
"No preference, yet picky."
Mak-cheol rolled eyes silently, glancing aside. The useless mage wheezed blue-faced.
"Heard enough—answer."
Sparing two to cross-check info. Ha-ryeong whispered, eyeing them alternately.
"Th-that..."
"Wait."
As the mage opened mouth hastily, Ha-ryeong cut him off. From her wide sleeve's lining, she drew a small pouch, extracting two pills.
"What's that?"
"Truth serum."
Now Yuri blinked.
"Why wait to pull it?"
"Curious how you'd torture, Crimson Foot."
"Carrot and stick gone?"
"I'm an assassin with truth serum, no carrot or stick."
Ha-ryeong replied deadpan, gripped the mage's jaw, shoved a pill.
"W-wait, I don't need truth serum, I won't lie..."
Mak-cheol panicked shouting, but she ignored, tossing one in his mouth.
"Oh, and."
As serum circulated, Yuri spoke.
"Younger the better."
"Ah."
Now Ha-ryeong got why Yuri came here hunting 5th-tier martial artists or mages.
No minions, solo, 5th tier, young.
Yuri hunted possessors.
*
Zone 4's residents call this place the Vicious Hamlet.
Criminals or those with backstories unable to live outside. Unlucky souls born and drifted here.
"What're you thinking?"
A voice emerged from pitch darkness.
Biyeon, perched on the window frame, scratched her mask with nails before replying.
"This place resembles the Divine City."
Divine City.
The city ruled by the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult is known more as Subduing Demon Hall than by name.
"Same survival-of-fittest laws preached, same ferocious beasts in human skin strutting daylight. To me, this Vicious Hamlet seems desperate to become the Divine City."
Biyeon laughed in her cracked, raspy voice.
It'd been a week since Biyeon arrived in the Vicious Hamlet.
Outsiders call it lawless, but it's not entirely. Tens of thousands live here. Economy, currency exist. Without minimal laws, the city couldn't function.
But all crumble before power. Laws made by villains from the start—power lets you mock them freely.
All seemed ridiculous to Biyeon. Gathered hating or barred from outside, now mimicking it. Especially preaching might-makes-right? Nauseating.
"I don't get why this Vicious Hamlet persists. Why does the Sword Emperor ignore it?"
"Even Panterion's outer zone has hundreds of thousands."
The man kneeling in shadows answered.
"Sword Emperor's blade could behead them effortlessly. But that'd draw world's ire, no?"
"True."
"Force eviction, still backlash; can't shelter all. So he neglects."
"Ultimately, filth rots away."
"Fifty years since Ranalga's breach. Now even this rotting cesspool has laws. Likely, Sword Emperor hopes they rebel Panterion, spark riot."
Then Panterion's hegemon Orsia Clan expresses regret, draws sword; longtime ally Selvis Magic Tower lends strength.
"Waiting for justification. Now I grasp Master's assessment of Sword Emperor."
"What'd Liege say?"
"Called him a coward mistaking caution for prudence."
Biyeon said, gazing out window again.
Not here for tourism in this loathsome city. Harsh, grueling order from Master.
Withered Tree Hag.
That old monster vanished ten years ago, now rules Vicious Hamlet. Order: kill her.
'6th-tier mage...'
Withered Tree Hag fled Ludelra Magic Tower. Why kill the old bat now after ten years? Doesn't matter—obey command.
If fail...
'Just return alive,' Master said.
Hopes she learns from failure. But can she? If Hag broke 7th-tier wall in decade, even escape uncertain.
Biyeon didn't come alone—but shadow-hidden Sword Shadow won't aid against Hag.
Creak.
Scratching mask, Biyeon frowned at street scene. Filthy kid booted by vicious-faced man.
Reason overheard: Alley his gang's turf; kid pickpocketed without permission.
"Save him?"
"Weak-crushing is Vicious Hamlet law. Not for outsider like me."
Even now, huddled kid pummeled to pulp by passerby's kicks.
"Tch."
Biyeon softly clicked tongue, closed eyes. No intervening. Beyond Vicious Hamlet or Divine City, weakness is crime here. Powerless suffer horrors. Seven years ago, flailing in flames, Biyeon learned that.
Thud, thud...
Sounds continued.
Irritating. Sought peaceful rest, but kicks and stifled screams disrupted.
Vicious Hamlet. Ruled by might-makes-right. Strong do as they please. Biyeon knew it well.
Kid crushed for weakness vs. man.
Biyeon stronger than man. So she could crush him reasonless. No—noise without regard? Reason enough.
Thus thinking, Biyeon opened eyes.
Thwack!
Loud crack. Not kid kicked.
"Gaaahhh!"
Curse-spewing passerby, stomping kid, clutched broken leg screaming.