Chapter 72
Chapter 72
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: Fist King
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He couldn’t say no. The Fist King’s eyes blazed fiercely, carrying the clear intent that he wouldn’t hesitate to swing first if the desired answer didn’t come.
Truth be told, he didn’t want to refuse anyway. In fact, the Fist King’s offer was something Yuri quietly hoped for.
Fist King Dokgo Gwi-jin.
He wasn’t the strongest martial artist in the world. If anything, the Heavenly Demon and the Ferocious Fiend came from martial artist backgrounds, and many among the Transcendents suspected of being Possessors also fought barehanded.
But Dokgo Gwi-jin’s moniker was Fist King.
Monikers are given based on a warrior’s defining traits. His title as Fist King came from the fact that among his arts, his fists stood out above all.
Having the chance to experience those fists outside of a life-or-death duel wasn’t something that came often.
“Thank you.”
So Yuri bowed his head to the Fist King. The Fist King, who had been shedding his robe, grinned back at the greeting.
“No need to thank me. I wanted to see your skills myself.”
Both were barehanded fighters. Since Yuri was the one who needed to press in, they didn’t keep much distance. The Fist King even said he wouldn’t counterattack. So from the start, the gap between them stayed within Yuri’s reach.
The distance where he could thrust out a fist and strike. Yuri assumed the starting stance of the Southern Heaven Cloud Drift Fist and eyed the Fist King.
Surprisingly, the Fist King didn’t just stand still.
A peerless elder like the Ultimate Realm Master, with his vast age and realm gap, could casually drop his arms and take a “go ahead and try” posture without issue. But the Fist King held his fists raised upward with a serious expression.
Not every powerhouse of this era had been in the game. Thirty years had passed, enough time for generational shifts. Many bosses from the game had died, retired, or vanished.
The Fist King was an Ultimate Realm Master who rose to fame in that shift. He’d existed in the game too, but he hadn’t stood out in terms of level or difficulty.
‘Around level 50, right?’
No special conditions to encounter him either. While leveling in the common hunting field of Yujeong Mountain, players would run into him as a field boss. His in-game moniker was Fist Maniac. No related events, not even proper dialogue—just one line upon death.
[A little more...]
No one knew what that “little more” meant, but that was all the Fist Maniac of Yujeong Mountain ever said. Not high-leveled, not tough, no gimmicks or events, so he was a boss who never even got a single piece of fan art.
‘The martial art he drops is Ten Thousand Waves Severing Fist.’
Yuri had slotted it into a few builds back then, but its peak was too low, so he’d never adopted it fully.
That was the game version. Then thirty years passed in the real world, and the Fist Maniac became an Ultimate Realm Master known as the Fist King.
“Best not to use aura either. I hear you’re sparring with that Sword Dragon kid in two days. Wouldn’t want you taking internal injuries and getting me chewed out by Sword Emperor hyung.”
“Yes.”
They faced off directly for about ten seconds. Naturally, no openings appeared. Honestly, it was to the point where he didn’t even want to step in first. But waiting wouldn’t help—the Fist King had promised not to attack, so Yuri had no choice but to move.
First, he shifted the left hand he’d held a bit forward. First form of the Southern Heaven Cloud Drift Fist: Cloud Drift Float. Strength suddenly loaded into the slowly extending left wrist, accelerating sharply as it surged toward the Fist King.
The core of the Southern Heaven Cloud Drift Fist was the linkage of both fists. If the left was blocked, follow with the right; if the right, then left. The attack’s flow must never break. Deflect the opponent’s counters fluidly, pry open a gap, and hammer in the strikes.
Every formula of the Southern Heaven Cloud Drift Fist emphasized freedom. Unbound by anything, like clouds drifting across the vast sky. Sometimes dancing with the wind, swallowing the moon, flashing like lightning—
Thud.
The fist didn’t advance properly. It was blocked. Before reaching the intended point, the Fist King’s fist intercepted Yuri’s.
The flow Yuri intended never even began. It was like a massive boulder dropped right into the stream, diverting the current. Yuri didn’t panic and immediately withdrew his fist. If blocked, then flow around the block—that was the Southern Heaven Cloud Drift Fist.
Blocked again. Left thrust—blocked. Right thrust—blocked. Fold back and retry. Straight lines, curved arcs.
But all were stopped. No use in dizzying changes. The Fist King’s eyes read every variation Yuri planned and shut them down.
‘Eyes of the Seventh Tier?’
Is that why he could see it? Yuri hardened his expression and restrained the changes. Instead, he poured power elsewhere. Faster, heavier.
‘Can’t break through.’
He couldn’t penetrate at all. Couldn’t even extend his hands fully. It gave Yuri a bizarre sense of helplessness. Different from the helplessness he’d felt learning the Southern Heaven Cloud Drift Fist from Kwon-rang in the past. Back then, it was because he couldn’t deflect as desired—simply put, Yuri’s flows were weaker than Kwon-rang’s.
The Fist King was different. His fists prevented Yuri from creating any flow at all. Couldn’t even thrust properly. Everything Yuri attempted was severed before it could progress.
Like a massive wall right in front, where he couldn’t even fully extend his fist to pound it...
‘No, it’s different.’
Not a wall—a blade. The Fist King held no edged weapon, but Yuri sensed countless blades from him. Those blades were slicing through Yuri’s intents one by one.
“Kid, you can use your legs too.”
The Fist King spoke, and in that instant, Yuri’s body tilted slightly backward. Crimson Blood Flowing Line Kick. The result was the same. Before he could properly kick, the instant his leg moved forward, the momentum snapped. Yuri controlled his buckling body, shifted stance with the severed leg, and immediately stepped into footwork.
Ha-ryeong watched their spar without even breathing. In her evaluation, Yuri was top of the Fifth Tier—enough said. And he’d entered Intent early too, so he might even handle a middling Sixth Tier alone.
His opponent wasn’t Sixth Tier level. Minimum Seventh Tier Ultimate Realm Master, Fist King Dokgo Gwi-jin. So this overwhelming gap was only natural.
But this much of a gap? The Fist King wasn’t even moving from his spot. Meanwhile, Yuri circled with footwork, probing all around and unleashing attacks.
‘Attacks?’
Even to Ha-ryeong, those weren’t attacks. Fists and legs alike failed to swing or thrust fully. They were severed midway. Like a puppet with cut strings. Trying to reattach and move, only for the strings to snap again each time.
‘He’s severing every thread of the offense.’
Severing the momentum was fatal. Yuri was impressive for chaining attacks without hesitation despite the gap, but the Fist King was horrifying—cutting them down without taking a single step.
“Sharper than before, huh.”
The Sword Emperor, who’d arrived unnoticed, muttered in admiration. The Sword Dragon, who’d just been training with the sword, was drenched in sweat but strained his bloodshot eyes to watch the Fist King and Yuri’s bout.
‘How many times did I die?’
He didn’t care about the growing crowd of onlookers. Right now, Yuri was consumed with breaking through the Fist King.
‘Mix in Spinning Thunderclap Strike?’
Neither was using aura. They were just activating their bodies with inner power for pure taijutsu. Adding techniques wouldn’t favor Yuri.
“I yield.”
In the end, Yuri pulled back his fists, breathing hard. No matter how much longer, he didn’t think he could breakthrough the Fist King. The gap between him and the Fist King wasn’t something to close overnight.
“Hmm.”
Only after the concession did the Fist King step back a few paces. He lightly shook out his skinny arms, then took the robe from a nearby knight and draped it over himself.
“Better than that Tyrant Dragon, for sure. Good form.”
Tyrant Dragon was Hwangbo Jin-cheol, heir to the Hwangbo Family. Twenty-six years old, four years older than Yuri.
“Just like hyung said. The kid’s got spirit. I like that he kept trying even after realizing it was futile.”
“Still, kid, how can you just barge in and pull this?”
The Sword Emperor clicked his tongue and glared at the Fist King. But the Fist King didn’t back down—instead, he threw his shoulders back wide.
“Heart was urgent, no helping it.”
“So, what do you think?”
“If I croak someday and that kid’s still kicking, then the Fist King title’ll be his.”
The Fist King chuckled and clapped Yuri’s shoulder. Then the Sword Emperor asked slyly.
“If you like him that much, why not take him as a disciple? At your age, having a few wouldn’t be odd.”
“Nah, pass.”
The Fist King, who’d been laughing, immediately drew the line.
“Taking a disciple means raising and worrying over ’em—can’t focus on my own arts then. Nah, I hate that stuff. Maybe later, when I can’t even grip a fist anymore, I’ll think about disciples.”
“Kid, if you can’t grip a fist, how’re you gonna teach?”
“Teach with words! Any disciple of this Fist King’s gotta be a genius who gets ten from one pointer.”
The Fist King swaggered off saying that, then spun around and jabbed a finger at Yuri.
“Besides, didn’t that kid learn arts from Kwon-rang? Not official master-disciple, but we’re not strangers... Can’t just snatch up Kwon-rang’s student as my disciple.”
“Not strangers, huh?”
Yuri startled and turned to the Fist King. As far as he knew, the Fist King and Kwon-rang had no connection.
-Try challenging Moonlit Night Play next, then maybe the Fist King after.
That’s what Kwon-rang had said before leaving Lutran. So hearing the Fist King now was shocking.
“Met once, half a year back.”
The Fist King looked at Yuri with surprise instead.
“You didn’t hear about me from Kwon-rang either?”
“I was wandering, so I lost contact with Kwon-rang. All I knew was that he’d secluded himself to break past the Seventh Tier wall.”
“Keek.”
The Fist King’s shoulders shook with laughter at the answer.
“Guy secludes to break the wall, comes out again? Obvious what happened. Prep your congrats for later. Kwon-rang Baker climbed past the wall to Seventh Tier.”
Seventh Tier! Yuri’s eyes went wide. He knew Kwon-rang had gained insight from sparring Moonlit Night Play. He’d thought he’d reach Seventh Tier someday, but surpassing the wall even famed clan heads couldn’t was astonishing.
“Then... where is Kwon-rang now?”
“No clue. Half a year ago, Kwon-rang showed up at my place, challenged me to spar, we shared some drinks, and he left. No idea where.”
“And the spar’s result?”
“I won, obviously!”
The Fist King’s eyes flashed as he answered.
“Not an easy foe, but I won.”
Would a life-or-death duel have changed it? The Fist King pondered briefly. No, probably not.
‘Would’ve needed resolve.’
Couldn’t have won unscathed, so he’d have needed to brace for losses too.
“Speaking of Kwon-rang, Yuri, your fist style isn’t quite like his.”
“Didn’t learn all his arts.”
“Kwon-rang’s fists had a weight you lack. Made it tricky even for me to cut. Yours are fast, flexible, full of changes. But against someone who ‘sees,’ that alone won’t cut it.”
“Then what should I do?”
“Too late to add weight now. Best is to make it so they see but can’t cope. Or shake ’em more, or swallow it whole.”
“Hard to grasp.”
“More variations. Cut, but feel uncut. Or swallow their cut attempt into your shadow. Keek, that’s my advice, but against me? Impossible. Truth is, best answer’s don’t fight superiors till you hit Seventh Tier.”
The Fist King withdrew his pointing finger with a grin.
“Anyway, Yuri, you’re too good to believe you’re Fifth Tier. No plans for disciples now, and even if, Kwon-rang connection means I can’t take you.”
The Fist King bared his gums in a grin.
“But I’ll mark you as future disciple candidate. When I’m a feeble wreck who can’t grip a fist, come beg for arts then. Had Tyrant Dragon in mind originally, but now? You’re better.”
With that, the Fist King roared with laughter at his own words. The Sword Emperor watched his retreating back—crossing the training ground like it was his own home—then shook his head.
“Off alone?”
“Got sweaty moving. Gonna wash up. Stingy with hot water for your lil bro?”
“Do as you like.”
The Sword Emperor just tsked, not stopping the Fist King heading into the manor.
“Hm, didn’t expect this. Sorry about that.”
Soon, the Sword Emperor cleared his throat and turned to Yuri.
“Right after your name went public in the Fame List, that Dokgo Gwi-jin contacted me. Asking how long you’d stay here. Kept prying if you were promising material.”
“I’m fine.”
Yuri gave an awkward smile.
“Fist King sees promise in me—grateful instead. Rare chance for guidance from such a lofty senior. I should be thanking him.”
“You’ve got a silver tongue, Brain Cloud. Makes my grandson look bad by comparison.”
Silver tongue... First time hearing praise like that.
‘Online, heard “talks like shit” plenty...’
In real life, he’d heard “speak up” often enough.
“What’d I do wrong now?”
The Sword Dragon pouted and grumbled. The Sword Emperor ignored his grandson and told Yuri.
“Fist King’s a quirky fellow, but his passion for martial arts is real. Especially keen on talented youngsters.”
“Really?”
“Told you earlier. After that Hwangbo kid got his Dragon title, he stormed the Hwangbo Family. As you know, advancing tiers as a barehand fighter is brutal.”
Endure somehow to high tier, and you gain standout edges over peers, but climbing tiers ain’t easy. Mediocre talent in barehand arts often means losing an arm before Third Tier.
“Fist King suffered plenty back in the day, looks like. So he’s drawn to young rising stars. Same path as you—good guy to know. Might just take you if you cling, despite the talk.”
Fist King’s disciple? Tempting spot. But it’d mean getting dragged by that unpredictable quirk.
“Kwon-rang connection.”
Not official master-disciple, but Yuri saw Kwon-rang as his master. Proper to decline for now. Stick to plan: visit Ha-ryeong and Killing Guard Sect, track Kwon-rang.
‘Gotta congratulate reaching Seventh Tier.’
Knowing how bad Kwon-rang wanted it, Yuri unconsciously smiled.