Special Skills Supremacy (5)
Huang Bo Taeung, the Super Strength Black Bear, could boast all he wanted about his mighty external arts and superior natural gifts, but there was no way he could surpass my Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong.
The Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong is the pinnacle and supreme form of all external arts—the ultimate upgrade.
Thus, in a pure clash of external arts, the Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong reigned supreme. If we likened metals, ordinary external arts were like whetstone or common iron, while mine was diamond.
Ooooooh!
Instead of him hurting me, the absurd sight of the striker clutching his arm and toppling backward set the arena ablaze with excitement.
The Cheonmu Academy servants knew my external arts well, so they took it in stride. But the Taecheon Academy bunch?
"Han Geo-jang! What the hell?!"
"Isn't the Super Strength School the pinnacle of Sapa external arts?!"
"Quit messing around and get up!"
They were utterly dumbfounded. No matter how they racked their brains, Han Geo-jang couldn't lose this match—it felt like a scripted play, making them suspect foul play.
"Urgh... ughhh."
But anyone seeing Han Geo-jang's face now wouldn't spout such nonsense. He clutched his swollen, fractured hand, tears of agony streaming down his face.
My own face, by contrast, was pristine—not even flushed. It was impossible to tell if the blow had landed at all.
"My turn now?"
I approached the collapsed Han Geo-jang and asked. He'd taken the initiative in this cheek-slapping duel but hadn't conceded or called it quits, so naturally, it was my turn as the counterattacker.
"N-no, stay back!"
His reaction was off. With every step I took, he recoiled in terror, like a soul dragged before Yama, the King of Hell.
"Running after one hit won't cut it. It's my turn as counter."
I raised my hand in a mock slap.
"Uwaaaah!"
Han Geo-jang failed to live up to his massive frame, leaping back in panic. Overwhelmed by bone-deep fear, he even tried retreating for a disqualification.
"Hey!"
He kept scrambling backward until Ok Ji-san, leader of the Taecheon group, shot him a glare sharp as a blade. Only then did he halt.
Forward meant me; backward meant Ok Ji-san's wrath. He was caught in true dilemma.
"Han Geo-jang! I won't say 'let me win' at this point. But as a Sapa warrior, uphold your honor!"
Ok Ji-san saw Han Geo-jang's spirit was utterly crushed—no chance of victory. His order: lose with dignity and flair.
Losing a cheek-slapping external arts duel because the striker's hand hurt first was humiliation atop humiliation. The consensus: endure until the counter turn.
"...U-understood."
At Ok Ji-san's words, Han Geo-jang—face drained pale, sweat pouring—shuffled forward. He looked like livestock led to slaughter, evoking pity.
Serves you right for showing off when you couldn't handle it.
"Here I go."
I raised my fist, thinking that. Already dominated by my presence, he flinched, hands up in guard the instant my fist lifted.
"You have to expose your cheek."
Just as I'd done, he needed to bare his face—but terror froze him in full defense.
Wooo!
Jeers rained down for his cowardice, but instinct for survival locked his stance.
"Fine, suit yourself."
Truth be told, guard up or down—it didn't matter to me. One hit, and he'd crumple; that was set in stone.
-Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong!
Having recently peaked at the Entry to Divinity realm, the essence of the Taeryeok Cheolgang Gong flowed into my right fist clearer than ever. So immense was the aura that the entire training ground trembled, startling the crowd.
"N-no! If that hits, I'll... die!"
Han Geo-jang belatedly regretted, attempting desperate flight—but to no avail.
Puuuuaack!
Before he could flee, I coldly slapped his cheek. I couldn't just take a hit and call it done, right?
The sound was thunderous, like heavenly lightning—ear-shattering.
Thud!
More shocking was Han Geo-jang's response. He collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, lifeless. Many wondered if he was dead.
"Han Geo-jang!"
Taecheon supporters screamed, but he slumbered too deeply to stir—for at least two days solid. Unconscious without scream or blink; pure knockout.
A testament to the impact.
Woooow!
Cheers erupted before victory was called. Enduring the inborn powerhouse's strike, then countering with such external essence—it bordered on miracle.
Especially for Sapa warriors who'd mocked Orthodox external arts; this event spoke volumes.
"Cheonmu Academy servant, Cheon Myeong—victory!"
Dan Ri-cheong, officiating, bellowed heartily.
First button fastened perfectly—halfway to success. The must-win card had played true; joy unbounded.
"Sapa warriors are all flash in the pan."
Savoring triumph, I muttered softly descending the arena—loud enough for those who'd mocked me.
Zing!
Indeed, Taecheon's top trio—Heavenly Evil Throwing Fist Yeom Cheon Gyeong, Killing Spirit Tak Gong, and Ice Jade Maiden Im Cho-ah—glared icily.
Let them glare; I didn't care.
With this, I've seized complete momentum.
In battle, momentum is everything. On home turf, I'd shown the gap crystal clear; the arrogant Taecheon crew should know their place now.
"Cheon Myeong, Cheon Myeong..."
Descending, I felt Yeom Cheon Gyeong muttering my name, Im Cho-ah's piercing stare lingering.
Seemed I'd properly marked myself in Sapa's top young experts.
"Next, Taecheon Academy's turn."
Dan Ri-cheong, buoyed by our first point, pressed Ok Ji-san spiritedly. Cheonmu led off first round; now theirs.
"Mm."
Ok Ji-san hadn't foreseen first-round loss—panic evident. Losing initiative point stung like a critical error, forcing full plan overhaul after underestimating us.
"For Taecheon Academy, we nominate..."
After deliberation, Ok Ji-san decided.
"Killing Spirit Tak Gong!"
Ooh!
Unexpected; Cheonmu side, me included, gasped in admiration. We'd figured their strongest sure-win: Heavenly Evil Throwing Fist Yeom Cheon Gyeong.
But an elite assassin from the Extreme Killing Sect? What ploy?
"Tak Gong's specialty: swift sword!"
That was Ok Ji-san's confident rationale. Tak Gong was from the murim's deadliest assassins, the Extreme Killing Sect—whose prime weapon was the swift sword.
Assassins must kill in one strike; their blades outpace any swordsman's, legendary for speed and sharpness.
Flinch!
At swift sword proposal from foes, we—and Meng Yuon—jolted hard.
Meng Yuon's own specialty overlapped.
As explained, overlaps merge into single decisive bout, not separate.
We'd already submitted specialties in writing—no backing out.
Thus, the duo had to choose.
"Yuon."
Facing an elite Extreme Killing assassin, Meng Yuon's burden weighed heavy. I patted his shoulder encouragingly.
"No pressure. It's 1-0; we're ahead."
Peng Jincheon chimed supportively. Amid worries, Meng Yuon stepped up first.
Buoyed since crushing Nangong Cheol recently, high hopes.
"My proposed swift sword trial is simple."
Tak Gong, claiming center, intoned lowly—emotionless, mechanical, chilling.
"At match start, draw and thrust. First to touch wins."
Classic swift sword duel. True to its essence: who draws and strikes first tests pure speed.
Meng Yuon has solid odds.
His skills grew daily; we cheered fervently.
"You got this!"
Even Dan Ri-cheong and Cheonmu brass joined; Flame Flower Divine Army Baek Ho Jun watched keenly, elated from our point.
"Ready."
At Dan Ri-cheong's call, both shifted hands to hilts—like mirror images.
One difference: Tak Gong's aura razor-sharp; Meng Yuon's somewhat blunted?
"Begin!"
The swift sword clash ignited; both unleashed vast auras instantly. Transcending young expert norms, spectators gawked, eyes locked.
-Tu Ryong Gwang Cheon!
Meng Yuon led with Fighting Dragon Swift Dragon Sword's pinnacle move—his ace. Proven killer; blade wriggled like a living serpent, lively.
-Geuk Kwae Tal Hon!
Tak Gong countered with Extreme Killing Soul-Stealing Sword's apex—sect secret, murder blade zenith.
Its terror: silent approach, soul-snatching unseen—hence the name.
One sword brimmed vital force, writhing; the other, death-optimized, silent killer.
Extremes clashing.
Flash!
Swifter than eyes, blades gleamed—
Woooow!
One strike decided victor and vanquished.
Who won? Who lost?