Chapter 243
Chapter 243
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 243
Chapter Title: Martial Advance
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Mujin
Kwa-ga-ga-gang!
The apostles' fists and feet poured down, tearing into my flesh and Mugak's.
But atop that.
"As long as I'm here, no one can harm Master."
['Dana' uses the skill, Advanced Healing (Lv. 5).]
Woo-oo-oong!
The holy light pouring from Dana focused solely on me and Mugak.
"Impressive... What a shift in thinking, Master!"
Pew-pew-pew-buk!
Mugak, now recovered, unleashed his kick arts.
Thrusting, pushing, stomping.
Simple-looking motions, but his sturdy upper body was already drenched in sweat.
"These bastards gang up on us while preaching about honor and fairness, and you think to use them for training! Ha ha ha!"
He laughed heartily as he swung his legs.
No, not just his legs.
Whoosh, pewk!
He began mixing in punches.
The essence of the Fist God that the old man had diligently taught.
"Then I'll use my fists too! Better this way! All the foes I've faced so far were so dull, I couldn't pinpoint my weaknesses!"
I nodded, and Mugak, pleased, bounded about excitedly.
'Me too.'
I clenched my fist.
I had no intention of sticking to kicks alone.
Whoosh!
Dodging the incoming attacks, I thrust out a punch.
Chaining into that.
Pewk!
I followed Mugak's movements with a kick.
"Excellent."
The watching old man nodded.
"Your opponents are far superior in level and number. Seize this chance—cast aside everything and clash with your all."
The Poison Fog in my heart?
No using it.
God-Slaying grade weapon?
I couldn't wield it anyway, and they're still in heated debate.
Now was the time to truly clash with my entire body.
Kwa-ga-gang! Kwa-ga-ga-gang!
The apostles' relentless attacks kept coming.
Bones shattered, blood sprayed.
But.
"Huaaaap!"
I didn't yield.
I focused even harder.
I strained to recall Mugak's kicks in my mind.
I dug out the old man's teachings etched in my head.
'I can do this.'
It was familiar.
Enduring in overwhelming adversity.
Hadn't I done it plenty during Delaila’s trials?
"Hoo, hu!"
I exhaled repeatedly.
Thrusting punches, kicking out.
All the while, I gradually felt it.
How to move my body, how to circulate my ki most efficiently—learning it through my flesh.
'First, kicks.'
A kick's power far surpassed a punch.
Longer reach from the legs, easier to load body weight.
Thus, faking was trickier, and misses left bigger openings.
Whoosh, whoosh! Thuk!
At first, wild swings missed, but soon they started landing on the foes.
One hit, two, three.
Each success boosted proficiency, making me more adept.
Every miss brought harsh punishment, instinctively honing my distance sense.
"Huh? Hooo!"
The old man watching let out exclamations of admiration.
"As expected, real combat suits you. Your movements are sharper than in training. That clumsy kick is taking shape. Distance sense refining, power and ki precisely loaded—excellent!"
Once kicks grew familiar, I moved my fists again.
The self-proclaimed Fist God's punches had no fixed forms or stances.
As always, flowing with the body.
Seemingly simple, yet all the harder.
Always finding the most efficient path, striking true.
"Swords, spears, fists, feet— all things converge at the pinnacle, but the paths differ subtly. You must find yours."
'I know. You've drilled it so much my ears are callused.'
"Hmm, but why so sloppy? Can't adapt to mixing fists and kicks? Don't be greedy. Master one—kicks or fists—build slowly."
True enough.
But I had another reason for combining them.
'The flow is similar.'
"What?"
'Learning Mugak's kick arts firsthand, I feel it. Somehow, I sense what that Jin-gwon man's fists were like.'
"……?"
The old man stared, expression saying [What do you mean?], then pursed his lips.
Sensing I was on the verge of vital insight.
"……."
I stopped talking and resumed the fight.
- Keu-keu!
- Yeah, keep coming!
True to apostles maddened by battle.
They charged aggressively.
Unfazed by our constant healing.
Whoosh! Whoooosh!
I pondered as I punched.
Something within grasp, yet slipping away.
No matter.
If it won't come, swing until it does.
Repetition.
And persistence.
What brought me luck as an E-rank hunter.
'What I'm best at.'
1 hour, 2, 3.
Time passed.
One day, two, three, four.
Whoosh! Whoooosh!
Beaten relentlessly, yet I kept swinging fists.
Oddly, even instinctual swings gained knack, growing more precise with each.
"Hoo, haa!"
Lungs healed by magic, yet breath still ragged.
From the sheer intensity of movement.
The old man vanished after 12 hours; I didn't call him.
Not on purpose—forgotten.
All my nerves were in fists and feet.
Didn't even see what Mugak was doing.
'Ah.'
The trance I'd not felt in ages.
Yes.
These guys were iron.
I was the hammer.
Just like back then—swinging clang! clang! for a week, two.
Puk! Puk!
Swing fists!
'Ah.'
In that instant.
I realized how sincere I'd been as a blacksmith.
Why?
That mindset erased all pain.
'Rather, it's joyful, fun.'
Sweating in battle, taking hits, striking—the process filled something in my chest.
'Yeah, think back.'
Summoning bones like mad, teaching them.
Endless toil as E-rank with no results.
Honestly, no fun then.
Pointless grind—how could it be?
But now, different.
Old man's guidance, visible growth.
Once you've tasted meat, you eat better.
One solid hit, and instinct knew how for the next.
Kwaang! Kwa-ga-gang!
How long we fought.
'Hmm.'
What teased at grasp began to form.
'Mugak's kicks: thrust, push, stomp.'
Of course, kick arts vary, but those three formed Mugak-style basics.
And.
Mugak and Jin-gwon shared a master.
'Ultimately.'
Thrust, push, embed.
Fists too.
All arts converge at the extreme—the essence of myriad arts here too.
'Yes.'
Move as conceived.
Eyes flashing, I charged like possessed.
- Keuh...!
Toward an apostle punching in frenzied rage.
Sssshwak!
He whipped his fist like a lash seeing me rush.
But.
My fists and feet didn't stop.
First.
- Thrust fist.
- Kick.
Whoosh, hung!
Left fist, right leg in succession.
Pebuk!
Sound rang as my right foot slammed his cheek.
Next.
- Push with fist.
- Push with foot.
Whoosh!
Right foot withdrew from his face.
Left hand shoved his solar plexus.
Puk!
His body lifted slightly; I lowered stance, shoving upward.
Pewk!
To the startled, leaping foe, I pursued.
Simultaneously.
- Stomp with foot.
Foot stomped his airborne body.
Kwaaaaaang!
Slammed to ground, dust billowing.
Finish.
- Embed fist.
Kwa-ga-ga-ga-gang!
I hammered fists madly into the downed foe.
Funny part.
The sequence took under a second.
"...Master?"
Mugak, now close, gaped.
"What technique is that? No, before that... when did you grow so? That kick looked like mine, and the fists..."
Mugak's eyes shook faintly.
"Yes, definitely my master's! No doubt!"
Hmm.
What technique? No clue.
Done on feel in trance.
Perfect five-hit combo, finished with carpet-bombing fists!
[Ding!]
Then.
[You acquire the skill, 'Martial Advance' (S-Grade).]
[A skill realized thinking of 'Martial Leg' and 'Advance Fist.']
[This skill has room to grow further.]
'Mar...tial Advance?'
[Skill: Martial Advance]
[Grade: S]
[Effect 1: Thrust, push, embed with fists.]
[Effect 2: Kick, push, stomp with feet.]
[Effect 3: Consumes 100 stamina.]
Martial Advance.
Combining their prefixes?
Liked it.
Means I can unleash that unconscious combo freely again?
Whoooong!
Stamina equaling 100 drained from my body.
"Mugak."
I called, smiling.
"Yes, Master."
"Watch and rate it. Think I've got the knack now."
Yes.
I'd designate this favored technique a secret art.
Second secret art born after Poison Flash: Martial Advance.
Whoooong!
Clothes fluttered from leaking stamina.
- Keuh....
- Strangely, getting stronger... I like it...!
Apostles charged.
Grinning, I unleashed the skill, Martial Advance, at him.
Myriad arts.
Secret art.
Martial Advance.
Pew-pew-pew-buk!
Five hits rang in a blink.
- Keuh?
One already smashed to the ground.
Atop him.
Sssuuuuuuu!
Mad fist barrage poured.
Kwa-ga-ga-ga-gang!
Each fist and foot concise, precise.
The perfect motion from thousands, millions of swings.
Now manifested flawlessly via skill.
"Incredible, Master. Artistic movement! How...?!"
He expressed awe.
"Huh, and!"
His startled eyes widened further.
"Look there, Master!"
"Hm?"
"Th-that guy! His body's not regenerating!"
"Ah."
I too marveled.
The gray apostle, healed no matter how beaten, now twitched fallen.
Meaning.
"……."
My last attack truly broke him?
- Keuh?
- Umm...?
Remaining apostles flinched for the first time.
Then I felt it.
From that moment.
The power balance had flipped.