The Meaning of Opposition
Crack!
Sama Ryang reacted quickly to the palm that came surging straight at his face.
Even while he studied medicine, he had never stopped training his martial arts, and so he managed to block the palm strike with perfect timing.
“Are you serious?”
“I’m always serious.”
In a contest of inner power, he was already at a clear disadvantage. No matter how sharply Cheon Sohyeon’s martial ability had risen, this was still a body that had lain in bed for more than half a year.
That doesn’t mean I’m out of options.
Cheon Sohyeon slapped aside the hand pressed against his own and began drawing up every last trace of Muryeonggi he had accumulated.
Crack, crack.
Grinding his teeth, Cheon Sohyeon unleashed Dara-jang with both palms.
Dara-jang. Unlike the Shaolin school’s ordinary progression of fist, palm, finger, and foot techniques, it was a palm art that started strong early on and then grew less efficient the closer it came to perfection.
He had not especially favored it in his past life, but with his current inner power, it was the best and most fitting choice, so he pressed Sama Ryang with it.
BOOOOM!
The impact shook the very bones in Sama Ryang’s skull, forcing him back in succession. His expression hardened all at once.
Has he recovered this much already?
The force transmitted through their touching hands was rigid and unmistakable. Sama Ryang had been watching his condition closely as his personal physician, which made the surprise even greater.
“Your martial ability has… risen faster than I expected. That’s a technique I’ve never seen before. What martial art is it?”
“Quit babbling and fight with everything you’ve got. You said you’d stop me yourself if I was committing insubordination or treason, didn’t you?”
BOOOOM!
Black light rippled through Cheon Sohyeon’s eyes.
He kept drawing up Muryeonggi and launched Dara-jang again and again. It was not the sort of martial art one would normally reveal in the heart of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, but he did not care.
Amitabha!
Because of the long seal on the Cult, Shaolin martial arts were rarely encountered here. Even if they had been seen countless times, it would not have mattered.
That man had been called the strongest fist in the world, then later known as a divine fist. He had stood at the pinnacle of one field and reached a realm where the form and structure of martial arts no longer mattered.
He had refined Shaolin techniques into something suited to his own temperament, and now demonic energy had been layered over the top of it as well.
Even if a swarm of bald senior disciples came running, Cheon Sohyeon was certain they would never recognize it.
BOOOOM!
Sama Ryang was shoved back in a stumble, his teeth clenched hard enough to ache. The situation was already turning one-sided. He could not keep yielding ground.
“Forgive my rudeness.”
Sama Ryang gathered his strength and attempted a counterattack. He smashed at Cheon Sohyeon’s palm strike from the side, then used his footwork to slip in close to his body like sliding water.
BOOM!
Then he drove out a punch straight toward his face. Cheon Sohyeon hurriedly deflected it with the blade of his hand, but Sama Ryang did not let his momentum die.
Spinning with the direction of that force, he closed the distance even more and sent his fists flying at Cheon Sohyeon’s entire body with blinding speed.
Thrust, sweep, strike downward again. The relentless chain of attacks made Cheon Sohyeon’s brow tighten.
What the hell is this guy?
Wasn’t he just a pale-faced scholar obsessed with medicine? Cheon Sohyeon had expected the match to end embarrassingly quickly, but against all expectations, Sama Ryang’s martial arts were quite respectable.
His footwork, palm work, and even his kicks. The balance throughout his body was smooth and clean, with nothing wasteful, so his forms linked together with growing speed.
Sama Ryang spoke in a subdued voice.
“Young Master, at least admit you’re lying. Say this was just one of your usual wicked jokes, and nothing more will happen.”
“Hard to say. I’ve never really had a relationship with lies.”
Cheon Sohyeon drew in a deep breath. Dragging up the Muryeonggi in his dantian to the very bottom, he began to counterattack.
Thud.
Planting a deep stomp, Cheon Sohyeon drove his foot in hard to block Sama Ryang’s movement, then thrust out his left palm.
BOOOOM!
When Sama Ryang’s hand collided with it in midair, he could feel the hard, concentrated force through their touching palms.
Amitabha!
The gap in their inner power was obvious, but he ignored it. The importance of inner power could not be overstated, but it was not the only thing that determined a martial artist’s strength.
“Cough!”
Driven back by that one strike, Sama Ryang coughed harshly. He retreated with a look of confusion.
…What is this?
The abrupt change in trajectory had let one blow land squarely in his abdomen. That sudden shift had left Sama Ryang deeply shaken.
As one trained repeatedly, forms became cleaner, movements more economical, and eventually they converged upon the most efficient shape.
As wasteful motion disappeared, the efficiency of force increased dramatically; but in other words, one could also say the fighter became trapped within a frame.
Once a flow had been repeated thousands, tens of thousands of times, it continued by inertia and resisted change.
That was why Sama Ryang had been reading the angles of the upper body, the direction in which the weight settled, and the trajectory of the fingertips, in order to identify the form.
But then, with no warning at all, the shape twisted, and he took the hit.
It was like a river striking a rock and changing direction, carving out a new path as it went.
It means he isn’t bound by form or structure… but is that even possible?
Even if martial artists were constrained by a frame, the reason they worked so hard to refine their forms was because the moment they broke free of the set shape, the power usually diminished.
Yet Third Young Master’s palm art did not lose its flow. The force did not weaken; if anything, it surged forward even more fiercely, carrying a heavy, crushing weight with it.
“Why are you so deep in thought? Did you only just realize you’ve been had?”
“…!”
Sama Ryang hurriedly tried to block the palm rushing straight toward his face.
BOOOOM!
Then Cheon Sohyeon’s arm bent with impossible flexibility.
After striking Sama Ryang’s shoulder blade with Dara-jang, it coiled around the arm that had reflexively withdrawn, like a snake.
…!
He immediately pressed into the acupoint at the elbow to disrupt the flow of qi, and then tightened his grip, intending to subdue him right there.
But then—
I can’t retreat.
Sama Ryang’s trembling arm held its ground. He wrung out the power in his dantian and forced strength into the opening, slipping in through the gap.
“I’ll finish this now.”
He raised a knee at once. His kick tore through the wall of air and aimed for Cheon Sohyeon’s abdomen.
At that moment, Cheon Sohyeon yanked the seized arm with all his strength.
“Fine, then let’s finish it.”
That threw Sama Ryang’s center of gravity off balance. Cheon Sohyeon did not miss the opening. He smashed at Sama Ryang’s chest, then almost simultaneously drove a punch straight into his abdomen.
…!
His breathing seemed to falter, and even more openings appeared in Sama Ryang’s defense.
Cheon Sohyeon looked at him with heavily lowered eyes and asked,
“You’re even putting on a lousy act? What the hell are you doing?”
“…I was only doing my best. What do you mean, acting?”
“I mean opposing the grand plan, not the martial arts. You’ve been sizing me up with that sly little look since earlier, haven’t you?”
Sama Ryang stared at him, his face rigid. It was as if every last thought in his head had been pierced through, and after a heavy silence, his mouth finally opened.
“...Then I would like to hear the Young Master’s true intentions one last time. Why are you trying to oppose the grand plan?”
“There’s no need to ask why. Because it’s something that must not happen.”
“It is the great undertaking the Cult has longed for, yet you say it must not happen?”
“What the Cult has longed for doesn’t matter. What matters is human life.”
“Human life?”
“How many people will die when the Cult marches out? A hundred? A thousand? I can tell you now that counting them would be meaningless. They’re not going to seal themselves away just so they can come out and have a pleasant little chat. Bloodshed will erupt all over the world.”
Sama Ryang’s brows drew together.
“That is the inevitable course—and the very process—of the grand plan. You would oppose it for such a trivial reason…?”
Cheon Sohyeon cut him off in a firm voice.
“Of course it won’t just be martial artists who die. The powerless common folk who know nothing about martial arts will be swept away just as helplessly.”
Sama Ryang’s brows narrowed slightly. Seeing him clamp his mouth shut, Cheon Sohyeon let out a small snort.
There it is.
There were dozens of reasons that came to mind immediately for why the Cult’s advance had to be stopped. But the reason he had brought up human lives was simple.
It came from the way Sama Ryang approached medicine. Everything he had shown until now had been impossible unless his purpose truly was to save lives.
“And what are you?”
“...Pardon?”
“Why have you been putting on this pathetic little act since earlier? It’s embarrassing, honestly.”
Sama Ryang’s brow twitched.
“...So you knew everything.”
“Who do you think you’re fooling? It’d be weird if I didn’t know. A physician who knows acupoints backward and forward not using finger techniques, and forms that carry no intent to kill—or even hostility.”
“...”
“If you weren’t trying to deceive your opponent, then I’d say you were deliberately putting on an act.”
Heavy silence hung between them.
Sama Ryang rolled his eyes back and forth with a complicated expression. It was obvious that he was still wrestling with himself, so Cheon Sohyeon waited in silence for an answer.
At last, Sama Ryang lowered his head.
“I’m sorry. I presumptuously judged that I had to determine the Young Master’s true intentions. My insolent words and conduct will never be forgiven. But if I had not confirmed it like this…”
“Enough. Start with the reason. Why did you do something so out of character?”
“...In truth, I too oppose it, like the Young Master.”
“And you thought I’d seen through that?”
Sama Ryang nodded.
“Yes. When you mentioned the Military Council, I suspected that you had already guessed my intentions—or perhaps that you also opposed it yourself. But I never expected a descendant of the Cheon family to stand against the grand plan...”
“So you tried to find out, even if you had to force it.”
“That’s correct.”
Sama Ryang swallowed and went on.
“However, stopping the grand plan will be a long and difficult road, even for the Young Master. ‘A path lined with thorns’ would be putting it mildly. Are you truly resolved?”
Cheon Sohyeon gave a faint laugh.
“I never thought it would be easy. Even if I ran myself ragged in every direction, there’s a good chance I’d fail in vain. And unless I had a capable ally at my side, I might not even be able to start.”
Sama Ryang met his gaze. Those eyes were straight and unwavering, as if the direction had already been decided. Reading that intention, Sama Ryang finally let a thin smile surface.
“A capable ally… You’re giving my face too much gold leaf.”
“Huh? What are you talking about? I never said you were one.”
Sama Ryang’s eyes went wide as he made a strange noise.
“Ah…! Hm, ah! I’m sorry.”
The embarrassed, easygoing smile on his face was exactly the same as the physician Cheon Sohyeon had once known.
“Anyway, why are you against it? If it’s like you said, then it would be nearly impossible for the cult members to accept.”
“In short, it’s for human life. It’s much the same as the Young Master’s opinion. The problem is that I still haven’t found anything that could truly be called a plan…”
“Well, that’ll change now.”
“Pardon?”
“Even if the words and the actions are the same, the weight behind them will be different from now on, won’t they?”
Sama Ryang’s pupils shook faintly.
Opposing an advance into the Central Plains. It was a desire as sinful as betraying and trampling on the cult members’ deepest wish. It was an idea so blasphemous that merely entertaining it seemed forbidden, and yet Sama Ryang knew all too well.
It’s different if it’s Third Young Master.
The Cheon family.
Within the long history of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, they were the bloodline that had become the backbone of the Cult. Wherever they went, praise and devotion from the cultists followed, so even expressing opposition could not easily be treated as a problem.
It would be impossible to erase the Cult’s goal of advancing into the Central Plains with a few words, but if those words came from a noble bloodline, even the highest ranks of the Cult would have no choice but to listen.
So he knew from the start?
It was a reaction he had never expected. Didn’t that mean that just as he had observed the Young Master, the Young Master had also been measuring him?
...A descendant of the Cheon family?
He had grown up from the moment of his birth amid the worship and praise of the Cult’s countless followers. And yet he had still bothered to exchange blows with Sama Ryang, simply to gauge his heart—this realization sent a violent tide of emotion through him.
But unlike that astonishment—
“You brat, are you not educated enough yet? What are you spacing out for?”
“...Pardon?”
Cheon Sohyeon scowled sharply.
“Why are you standing there in front of me and thinking so hard? Don’t be so rude.”