Chapter 92
Chapter 92
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Translator: penny
Chapter Title: Instructor Punishment (2)
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Just how much did they think he was a joke?
"Haa. What a handful."
Chu Un-hwi crossed his arms and chuckled at the sudden outburst of his true feelings.
"Hey. Hey. Don't let your guard down. He might look the part, but his fists are like a wild bear's. He's not called Bronze Hall's Blood Fist for nothing."
"I'm not Blood Fist!"
Un Ho-seung rubbed his eyes at Moyong So-hye's shrill protest.
'Even Peng Dan-gi from moments ago couldn't keep up.'
Though a distant branch of the Hebei Peng Family, Peng Dan-gi had been properly trained in a prestigious sect since childhood.
Even he hadn't been able to react to his fists.
"Well, fine. I was planning to give you a proper thrashing someday anyway."
"Eek, your face looks scary all of a sudden."
Moyong So-hye flinched as she read the whirlwind of [Contempt] and [Violence] surging through his body.
It looked like a life-or-death duel rather than a spar, but Chu Un-hwi remained utterly nonchalant.
"Hey, hey. All good, but don't make a corpse."
"Argh! Are you cheering me on or provoking me?"
"Both."
Un Ho-seung lost his temper first at her innocent demeanor.
"Don't complain that my fists are too fierce."
Whoosh.
The moment he pushed off the ground with his toes, Un Ho-seung closed in like a slide and unleashed a vicious strike.
Whoosh.
Just the swing of his fist sent Moyong So-hye's bangs whipping in the wind.
Jinju Un Family's unique fist technique.
(辰州彦家 獨門拳法).
Whoosh.
Recalling Im So-jeong's warning from before, Un Ho-seung discarded all complacency from the start.
And he unleashed his most confident technique.
Rigid Body Secret Art: Soul-Detaching Fierce Strike.
(剛體祕術 脫魂猛擊).
A unique art of the Jinju Un Family, blending the corpse-hardening black magic secret technique with handed-down outer and inner arts.
An ultimate technique so brutally offensive that even the orthodox sects called it sorcery.
'It's over.'
His heavy blow pierced toward her head like a spear, but she couldn't even react.
'No need to kill him.'
The moment he twisted his fist slightly to strike the shoulder instead.
"Ah! This isn't my will."
Whoosh.
Her tiny hand suddenly spread wide.
Twirl.
In an instant, her hand wrapped around the back of his fist and pushed it away.
'She pushed this away?'
Thud.
Un Ho-seung stomped his foot again and thrust his shoulder forward like shaking it off.
Krunch!
He poured even more ferocious momentum into the fist strike.
"Dangerous. This is dangerous."
But her small body alternated sides around the fist, using both hands to deflect it—not push it away.
Tap-tap.
It wasn't just twisting the fist aside.
One moment her hand wrapped his wrist with the back of her hand, the next it hammered his inner elbow like lightning.
Then it stroked his wrist, only to suddenly jab his collarbone.
Tap. Thud-thud. Smack.
How many counters did she land while he threw just one punch?
'This isn't good.'
As his arm, which barely felt pain under normal circumstances, began to throb, Un Ho-seung sensed something wrong and quickly pulled it back.
Swoosh. Rip.
Withdrawing the attack and retracting his arm was excellent judgment.
The problem was that the hand pounding his arm and joints like it had been waiting turned into a hook and raked his forearm viciously.
"Hoo. Hoo. That scared me."
Her wide-eyed, heaving chest made her look every bit the cute girl.
Tap-tap.
But her hooked index and middle fingers, like eagle talons, dripped with what looked like his own blood.
Flutter. Flutter.
And the sleeve that had been torn off dangled loosely.
Un Ho-seung's pupils shook as he looked down at his now-empty right arm.
'She wounded my arm, trained with corpse arts?'
What kind of ghostly nonsense was this?
While he felt possessed, she slyly rolled her eyes.
"You're scarier than I thought. Instructor, can I forfeit?"
"What? Scared I'll kill you?"
"Not exactly."
"Not killing you is part of the training."
"Argh, jeez."
Flames sparked in Un Ho-seung's eyes at her endlessly carefree attitude.
"...You have a few tricks, huh."
"A few? More than that. Underestimate her and your skull cracks."
"Tch."
Flash.
Un Ho-seung unleashed his fists in earnest once more.
Whish. Whoosh!
Not a simple strike.
'If she's tricky, blast her away with heavy fists.'
His rotating fist viciously hammered her entire body.
Crack! Crackle!
The wind pressure from his fists whipped her clothes every which way, making Moyong So-hye stagger.
But at the center, something kept moving relentlessly.
Pat-pat-pat-pat-pat.
Hands too fast for the eye to follow.
Thud. Thud-thud.
Tiny hands batting away and deflecting the fists as expected.
'Doesn't matter. Overwhelm with internal energy!'
Age gave him the edge in inner power.
Channel it into changes and speed, bulldoze straight through.
One solid hit and it's over. He disrupted her footwork and drove her in a straight line.
"Ah! Aaaah."
'Almost through.'
Moyong So-hye's footwork faltered under the Meteor Hammer Assault's momentum.
With her footwork broken, the relentless hand movements stuttered to a halt.
'Haha! Broke through!'
Un Ho-seung's attacks, seizing the momentum, surged fiercer.
Then, finally.
"Waaah—."
Moyong So-hye burst into tears.
"Sorry!"
Splat.
'Broke... Huh?'
Wobble. Immense pain shot through his arm. A spine-chilling agony he'd never felt before.
'What? Where'd I get hit?'
The pain was so excruciating it felt like shoving both arms into a furnace.
Amid the daze, a mocking tsk-tsk echoed.
"Why fight the flow?"
"Wueeng. Instructor devil."
"Yo! Surrender to the flow of slaughter."
Now, rally his energy and break through.
Splat.
The next was a gut-piercing shock.
'Broke... No.'
Had his stomach been pierced?
The impact rattled his solar plexus, organs, and spine. Un Ho-seung's jaw dropped.
But the following pain dwarfed the previous one.
Splat.
His head snapped around.
Crack.
Something wrapped his falling wrist and folded it backward.
Crack-crack. Smack-smack.
His trusted corpse arts didn't respond to the pounding hands.
Thud-thud-thud-thud.
Wherever the hands passed, his heavy fists crumbled, replaced by pain.
"Aaaargh!"
Smack-smack-smack-smack.
He couldn't even collapse as he pleased.
Dodge left, and a heavy right hand slammed his side.
Retreat back, and a hand grabbed his hair, yanking him forward.
Crack!
Then a cute knee appeared before his eyes and smashed his forehead.
His head bounced back like a spring.
"Kuhuk!"
Spew!
Blood sprayed, staining the blue sky.
'Me... defeated...'
As his vision faded amid the dispersing blood fountain, something approached.
Fingers gouging toward both eyeballs, nails sharpened.
Seeing his bloodied hand, Un Ho-seung realized.
This was it.
'Bronze Hall's Blood Fist.'
True to its name.
The undefeated Blood Fist.
***
Thud.
The Jeok brothers, Jeok So-il and Jeok So-i, couldn't believe their eyes as Un Ho-seung collapsed.
"Un Ho-seung..."
"...lost?"
Who was Un Ho-seung?
Forced into remedial classes now, but until recently, a top contender aiming for Silver Hall's upper ranks.
And his family?
Mocked for handling corpses, but the Jinju Un Family's name shook the entire martial world.
Some said they deserved a spot among the Ten Great Clans, only edged out by their shady arts.
Such Jinju Un Family's young master, Un Ho-seung, had been defeated.
"How did Un Ho-seung..."
And it was one-sided.
The first thirty exchanges had been somewhat even.
But the moment the girl wailed, the tide turned in an instant.
Even more shocking: the Jinju Un Family's corpse arts couldn't stand against the girl's brawling.
Fists that deflected blades turned to rags in her joint locks.
Drip-drip-drip.
The girl stood beside him, hands dangling.
"Hic. Hic."
Her flushed hands trembled violently.
Clap-clap-clap-clap.
"Ha."
Turning, they saw the temporary instructor, who had been lounging against a rock, rising.
"Well done. Blood Fist. Crushed another prey today."
"Hic. Hic."
"Train till the tears dry. Well, stopping at a decent point today deserves praise."
"Devil! Instructor's a devil!"
Her pouting was absurd, but what shocked the group was something else.
'This is stopping at a decent point?'
How ruthless could this small girl get?
"Up we go."
Chu Un-hwi smirked at the stunned group and hopped down from the rock.
He waddled over and stood before Un Ho-seung.
"Hey, hey. You with us?"
"Ughhh."
"This guy's completely out."
Thud.
The temporary instructor kicked his side to flip him over, rubbed his hands, and began prodding Un Ho-seung's body.
"Nothing too serious."
Thud-thud. Crack. Thud.
Un Ho-seung's face darkened in unconscious pain.
"H-Hey."
Im So-jeong stepped forward, paling.
"You trying to kill Ho-seung?"
"Huh? Kill? Me?"
Crack.
He twisted one arm back and hopped away, saying,
"First aid's done. Better take him to the infirmary."
"I-Infirmary."
The frantic twins and Dang Gan got a parting word as they hoisted him up.
"Say he fell down the stairs."
"That doesn't even make sense..."
"Unless you want to take turns lying down."
Why? Craving Blood Fist too?
Chills crawling, they nodded desperately, hoisted Un Ho-seung, and fled.
"Early dismissal today."
A leisurely voice trailed from behind, but no one looked back.
***
The fleeing group returned to the training ground five days later.
Un Ho-seung's battered appearance had somewhat recovered, but his face looked like he'd pulled all-nighters for days.
"Back?"
"...Yes."
Truth be told, Un Ho-seung hadn't thought he'd return here.
He'd vowed never to come back amid the humiliation of defeat and shock of pain.
The problem was the visions that plagued him whenever he closed his eyes.
- Come on in.
For some reason, though Moyong So-hye had beaten him, closing his eyes summoned that annoying temporary instructor.
The difference?
The instructor in his dreams had a completely different vibe.
- Pointless.
He forgot everything upon waking from the nightmare, but it felt terrifying.
In the end, after agonizing resistance, he returned after five days.
Glancing at his pallid face, the temporary instructor bluntly said,
"Looks like you're finally ready to learn."
"...Why are you doing this to me?"
"Doing what? You came back to learn, didn't you?"
Come to think of it. Why was he so sure the dream figure was the instructor?
'I remember nothing.'
As he hemmed and hawed at the belated realization, a gentle voice came.
"I thought you all ran off for good. As a temp instructor, I need results to stick around."
Behind, the tall lanky one opened his mouth but was gagged by the instructor hunter and dragged away.
Where to?
'Instructor hunter and Bronze Hall's Blood Fist.'
And that suspiciously glaring girl was the one with the dangerous new moniker.
Suddenly aware, everyone here looked suspicious.
"Why the look?"
"...Really just for results?"
"Yeah, obviously. What else does a low-paid wage slave have?"
Fair enough.
But as he relaxed—
A chilling voice struck his ear.
"Well. Before the lively start, better spill your schemes first."
Shiver.
This temporary instructor was dangerous after all.