In a True Duel, One Must Give Their All
Rumble…
While Gong Ryun fretted over Loro, a vibrating thrum of inner energy was already rising from the Robed Robber’s arms.
That bastard. He had used the opening of their conversation to ready another technique.
“Hey, you son of a bitch! I’ve been talking this whole time and you’re just sitting there full-charging your damn moves?!”
“You’re the weird one for chatting in the middle of getting jumped!!”
Creeeak—!
The muscles in the robber’s arms drew taut like a bowstring pulled to its limit, then exploded outward into a savage barrage of fists.
A punch with both speed and power. And it was a continuous assault.
Left and right hands crossed in front and behind as if they were a single unbroken motion, hammering out more than a dozen blows in the blink of an eye. It was the principle of an internal combustion engine burning gasoline—detonating the inner energy stored in both arms in sequence to produce rapid, crushing punches.
BOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!
The barrage hammered into Gong Ryun.
The ground shook. Dirt and dust sprayed into the air.
And through that storm, Gong Ryun—
“Gyaaaaaaah!!! You crazy bastard, what the hell is this!!!”
—held his ground.
He hadn’t blocked everything. Plenty of hits had slipped past his guard. Damage was stacking up through his body. It hurt like hell, but not enough to put him down. If the barrage had gone on much longer, he might have gone sprawling backward.
“A whole different level from monsters.”
Gong Ryun muttered under his breath. People really were nothing like monsters. They used inner energy. They used techniques.
Truth was, this was Gong Ryun’s first life-or-death duel.
Until now he had only beaten down monsters; he had never truly fought another person. He had sparred a little with Un-rang, but that guy was a speed-type with a long weapon—terrible matchup—and Gong Ryun had just gotten one-sidedly thrashed.
He hadn’t even tried the so-called common inn-yard death matches. Nobody wanted to fight a guy who used Sangongdok. Beat someone like that and you still hadn’t won—because you lost your inner energy in the process.
That was a problem. You needed real combat experience to learn anything. Only then could you handle yourself when things got truly dangerous.
Gong Ryun was no coward. When a death match came his way, he had been ready to fight it out “because he had no choice.” But no one would take him up on it. A perfect chance to stack experience against people, wasted. He had been feeling the regret of it.
Of course, he hadn’t exactly been hoping his first death match would be against a highway robber.
Could you even call this a death match? What were you supposed to call it? A roadside death match? Getting robbed? Exposure to criminal activity?
Anyway. Back to the fight.
Whoosh—!
After that heavy barrage ended, the Robed Robber’s robe, whipped by the violence of his own movements, tore free and went flying.
At last Gong Ryun could see the man’s bare face. Short sporty hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in days, a square jaw, and a rough-hewn face that spoke of a hard life.
And more than anything else, the robber’s body stood out. Every muscle was bulked up to the point of bursting, and his skin was flushed blotchy red like a drunk’s.
Why is his skin that red?
Gong Ryun was baffled. Had the man actually been dead drunk?
Right on cue, the Robed Robber brought up his own complexion.
“There! Look at this! You know what this is, don’t you?!”
“…No, I don’t.”
“What?! Then look harder and figure it out!!!”
With that, the robber settled back into stance and began preparing another technique. But—
“I’m not waiting this time!!”
Twice was enough. There would be no third. Gong Ryun snapped into his own technique without delay.
The robber’s arts took a long time to charge. Gong Ryun’s casting was faster.
Where there is flow, there is the wave.
PAAANG!!
A shockwave radiated from his palm. Similar to the cone-shaped blast of Huanghejang, but broader in range and weaker in force.
Like a wave soaking a long stretch of shoreline, the spreading inner force washed over the robber.
The rolling energy slammed hard against his skin—only to shatter against his protective aura.
But that had only ever been a distraction.
The instant the palm technique left his hand, Gong Ryun was already charging. No lightfoot arts, so he was a little slow—but at this short a distance, it didn’t matter.
Gong Ryun shot his hand out. Geumnasu.
All he had to do was grab him. Just grab him.
It could punch straight through a hydra broodmother’s belly hide. Even Un-rang would lose a limb if he took a clean hit from this.
A martial art that poured every scrap of firepower into the tiny surface of a palm. Ultimate joint technique born of long practice and outstanding talent. (Or not quite.)
Right. If he could just get a grip—
Whoosh!!!
His right hand shot forward like a viper’s maw, aimed at the man’s body.
White flames of inner energy streamed from his palm.
But—
“Too slow.”
The robber slipped away with lightfoot arts. Lightfoot arts—techniques that lightened the body and spiked its speed.
Ah. That damn lightfoot.
The moment the attack missed, the robber countered.
Creeeak—!
The sound of inner energy loading rose from his arms again. Same family of fist art as before. Gong Ryun’s interference had kept him from winding up a big continuous barrage like last time, but he had something close enough.
BANG!!!!!
A punch carrying the principle of an internal combustion engine. Not a barrage this time—a single strike. Every ounce of power packed into one fist.
Crunch!!!
The blow crashed into the forearm guard Gong Ryun threw up in a hurry.
“Kh—!!”
The impact staggered him.
But maybe this was a chance. Gong Ryun snapped Geumnasu into his left hand and fired it toward the enemy’s ribs.
And again, lightfoot arts slipped him free.
Ah. Lightfoot arts again. This was getting too sad to live with. Gong Ryun ground his teeth.
Having completed his evasion, the robber raised his opposite fist from that very stance. One punch loaded in each arm. One spent, one remaining. The second punch rocketed at Gong Ryun.
BANG!!!!!!!
THUD!!!!!
This one took him clean in the torso.
Gong Ryun clenched his molars until they felt ready to crack, hanging on.
“Ghhh…!!!”
No time to catch his breath. He had to stay sharp. He reset his stance.
But in that tiny window the robber was already loading both arms again.
Creeeak—!
Can’t we just rest a little? Gong Ryun thought, just for a second.
And the robber’s punch detonated.
BANG!!!!!!
Before the fist arrived, Gong Ryun had been thinking: if he could just block it with his palm—
His palms were practically Geumgangbulgoe. And that robber’s fist art was completely linear. It never curved mid-path. If he could read the trajectory, he could stop it. And once he stopped it, he could flip Geumnasu on in his palm and lock the man down.
On that expectation, he thrust his left hand into the punch’s path.
THUUUD!!!
“Keuhk! Nothing works…”
It still slammed into his torso without the slightest mercy.
He had clearly put his palm right on the predicted path—but the robber had shifted his entire body a hair’s breadth sideways with a single footwork step. When the body moved, the punch’s trajectory moved with it. The fist skimmed right past the palm and buried itself in Gong Ryun’s gut.
Un-rang’s face—that footwork-obsessed maniac—flashed through his mind. Aah. So that was why the guy was like that about footwork.
Gong Ryun clenched his molars again.
Already the robber was lifting his other arm to fire another punch.
Fine. If it had come to this, he would throw a counter-cross at least.
Gong Ryun raised his right arm too. And the robber saw it.
The man was already planning to slip away again with lightfoot and footwork.
But Gong Ryun wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t going to waste another Geumnasu that wouldn’t connect.
What he needed now was an area attack. He opened his palm. Extended his arm. Palm art.
Whoom—!
The wave crashes against the cliff.
Flow ran down his arm and into his palm.
Leaving his hand, that flow became a swell and rolled forward. A swell that did not look especially strong.
But the moment this swell met a cliff, it would rear into a towering wave and shear that cliff clean away.
The shockwave left his palm in the same instant the robber’s punch hammered into Gong Ryun’s body.
THUUUD!!!
He got hit. But he was hitting back. The shockwave was already gone from his hand.
The swell reached the robber. The swell met the cliff.
BOOOOOOM!!!!!
A massive boom of ruptured air rang out, and the robber’s body was driven hard backward.
“What?!”
The robber reeled in shock. He had clearly been bracing for the basic form Gong Ryun had used earlier—and this was firepower on an entirely different scale. If Yujeukrang was a wave soaking a sandy beach, Parangchungbyeok was a wave smashing into a cliff face. The first was for pressure. The second was a real attack.
Because they had struck each other at the same moment, the mutual impact sent both of them stumbling several steps back. Distance opened between them.
Until someone charged again, a brief lull.
He had to recover as much as he could in this window!
Gong Ryun hurriedly steadied his breathing and used qi circulation to reset his body. His whole frame—especially the spots that had taken hits to the torso—throbbed and burned.
As he did, he looked at the robber.
…He’s even redder?
Amazingly, the robber’s skin had flushed a deeper, blotchier red. Almost the color of dried jujube. And his muscles had swollen further, looking ready to burst like overinflated balloons.
In that moment the robber roared.
“WHY!!!!!!”
“Hah… hah… Why what…!!!”
“WHY!!!!! Why won’t you use your poison arts?! Hiding the Sichuan Tang Clan’s main techniques—how dare you!!!!!”
“…?”
“Are you mocking meeeeeee!!!!!”