Shandong's Greatest Martial Family (3)
Claaaang! Fist met fist with a thunderous roar. The shockwave rippling outward made the narrow alley walls tremble finely, dislodging bits of stone from the crumbling spots.
"Urk!"
"Ngh!"
The rebounding force sent both Jin Yeo-rip and his opponent staggering back a couple of steps, faces twisted in pain. All the men in their yellowish garb looked genuinely shocked.
"Damn it. What kind of 'no questions asked' is this? Punching first without even knowing the facts!"
In this damn world, 'ask no questions' is just everyday life. Everyday.
Jin Yeo-rip sighed as he rotated his stinging wrist to loosen it up, straightening his posture.
"You."
"Yeah, let's talk first. Why waste perfectly good mouths on fists?"
"Why?"
"What?"
"A guy with skills like yours!"
……Huh? This situation was taking a weird turn.
As Hwangbo's eyes narrowed sharply and he clenched his fist again, Jin Yeo-rip hurriedly tried to intervene.
"W-wait a sec! Let's talk first!"
"A scum who doesn't know a martial artist's pride! I can never forgive your thuggery!"
Hwangbo launched himself forward again, swinging his fist. What? Thug, thuggery? This was getting ridiculous.
He was pissed enough about the no-questions-asked punch, but now this!
Grit! Jin Yeo-rip didn't hold back either, his anger flaring.
Bam!
Fists collided once more. But this time, it was completely different. Now that they knew each other's power, neither gave an inch, chaining attacks seamlessly into a fierce exchange.
"Munyeon!"
"Yes, Captain!"
"Move the old man and the big guy somewhere else!"
"Yes, sir!"
Deung Un-ryang, the Hwangbo family warrior watching the fight, shouted. Jeong Munyeon and his subordinates dashed to the wall and quickly carried the old man away. The spreading shockwaves from their exchanges were intense enough that anyone not protecting themselves with internal energy risked internal injuries. That was the reason for the order.
"Hmm, who the hell is he? Not some back-alley thug after money."
Deung Un-ryang frowned as he watched the intense standoff. More precisely, he was eyeing the unfamiliar boy holding his own against his charge.
The one he was facing was Hwangbo Wonpyeong, the young master of the Hwangbo family. The eldest son of the current family head, a dragon seed meticulously nurtured from birth in the heartland. He had been a prodigy since infancy.
Among the Hwangbo descendants born with immense strength generation after generation, his power stood head and shoulders above, worthy of being called divine might.
And his martial prowess? He had already mastered the Heavenly King Three Fists, the family's signature technique—one that required the Hyeonggi realm to wield sword qi. He treated spars with most family warriors as child's play and was counted among the top talents among his peers.
Yet this kid, who didn't even look like the heir of a prestigious clan, was matching him blow for blow? Despite the clear difference in height, he wasn't yielding an inch—to that divine strength or the internal energy packed into his fists.
Bam! Bam!
"Tch!"
But Jin Yeo-rip, in the thick of it, was dying inside. What the hell kind of fist was this? It felt like getting smashed by a massive iron hammer. Damn it, born with bones of steel or what? His knuckles felt like they'd shatter any second.
Wincing from the throbbing pain, Jin Yeo-rip swiftly dodged the incoming fist and retreated.
Crash!
Hwangbo Wonpyeong's punch pulverized the wall outright.
Whoa…… This guy's no joke. Bones wouldn't survive a direct hit.
Right. No need to grit his teeth against a monster like that fist-for-fist. This wasn't an arm-wrestling match.
Bam bam bam!
As the pursuing fists riddled the wall with holes, Jin Yeo-rip shifted how he channeled his internal energy.
To handle a raging wild boar like this, he needed to move unpredictably, denying the enemy a clear target.
Twelve Flows: Illusion. Maze Principle.
Whoosh!
Jin Yeo-rip kicked off the ground, his form swaying like reeds in the wind.
Swoosh! The punch aimed at where he seemed to be grazed empty air, surprise flickering in Hwangbo Wonpyeong's eyes.
"An afterimage?"
He had lost track of the movement. Eyes widening, he hurriedly shifted to a defensive stance.
But Jin Yeo-rip's speed was beyond eyes…… no, beyond even the defending Hwangbo Wonpyeong's reaction.
Swiftness, Instant Step.
Peeeng!
In that split second, Jin Yeo-rip's figure sliced through the air with a sharp whistle.
Craaaack!
"Urk!"
Hwangbo Wonpyeong's face contorted. He had guarded his front, but Jin Yeo-rip vanished from sight only to reappear on his left, slamming a fist into his side.
"You bastard!"
Hwangbo Wonpyeong couldn't help but boil with rage. A guy with fists strong enough to match his own, creating afterimages and moving too fast to track!
And trying to rob a poor old man of his money and worse?!
"Raaah!"
With a fierce kiai, Hwangbo Wonpyeong swung his arms like a windmill in a brutal barrage.
Jin Yeo-rip quickly pulled back, but the tip of a fist grazed his forehead.
Snap!
"Kuh!"
Just a graze, and his skull rattled.
"Damn."
What kind of durability? He'd buried a fist deep in the guy's side, yet he counterattacked like it was nothing?
"I'll kill you!"
He seemed even angrier now. Eyes blazing, Hwangbo Wonpyeong drew up his internal energy, radiating an ominous aura.
Thud!
With a powerful stomp, his thrust fist unleashed the first form of the Hwangbo family's prized Heavenly King Three Fists: Thunder Dragon Strike.
Rumble!
A faint thunderclap accompanied the energy surging from his fist toward Jin Yeo-rip.
"Whoa!"
The fist was still back there. So why? Some instinctual sense of overwhelming force barreling in made Jin Yeo-rip twist his upper body sideways.
Kabooom!
In that instant, the wall behind him exploded. Far more destructively than a direct punch.
"Wh-what the……?!"
The fist was clearly still over there? Jin Yeo-rip's eyes widened in shock as he alternated stares between the gaping hole in the wall and Hwangbo Wonpyeong.
"Hah…… hah…… ha……."
He looked exhausted. Propped on his knees, his massive frame heaved with ragged breaths. Jin Yeo-rip shot him a puzzled look.
From Hwangbo Wonpyeong's perspective, it was enough to make him beat the ground and wail.
Damn it, he dodged it? The Thunder Dragon Strike, first form of the Heavenly King Three Fists, was a type of projected strike. A technique only possible at the entry to Tanggi realm, where one could emit energy. When perfected, it rivaled the martial world's strongest fist art, the Hundred-Pace Divine Fist.
Yet he dodged it. Like he instinctively sensed the danger.
It only fueled his fury. What did a guy like that lack that he stooped to worse-than-unorthodox thuggery?
"Hoo…… I won't forgive you. Ever."
Jin Yeo-rip gulped at the venomous glare, like poison dripping from his eyes.
He hadn't done anything wrong—why the nonstop "no forgiveness"? And if that had hit? He'd end up like that shattered wall. The thought was horrifying.
"Hey, hold up. Catch your breath, calm down, and hear me out……."
"No…… questions…… asked!"
Before he could finish, Hwangbo Wonpyeong charged at full power again.
This jerk! Was "no questions asked" going viral or something? What'd they stuff in his ears? Why ignore reason!
Bam! Kabam!
The assault continued, and Hwangbo Wonpyeong unleashed every technique he had: Scattering Mountain, Swift Movement, even Illusion afterimages.
Jin Yeo-rip wove through it all, mixing every Baji technique his current internal energy allowed, dodging desperately.
Craaack! Crack!
Attacks? He'd landed countless. But they were too weak. Hwangbo Wonpyeong flinched but showed no real damage, while even his glancing blows sent searing, throbbing pain through Jin Yeo-rip's skin.
Monster! How insane was his strength and toughness? Forged from iron or what?!
From afar, Deung Un-ryang watched uneasily. This wasn't good.
Hwangbo Wonpyeong had taken plenty of hits but wasn't losing. He was just too riled up for a fight needing cool heads.
That recent Heavenly King Three Fists. Even at the entry to Tanggi, forcing the Thunder Dragon Strike was reckless. He'd surpassed his limits and kept going full throttle, burning out fast.
He was fine now, but a constant drizzle soaks clothes eventually. Keep eating attacks from that speedy opponent, and he'd collapse.
So he agonized. What to do? Interfering in a warrior's duel crushed their pride. Especially since this was their protected young master—his personal pride was life itself.
But he was the Hwangbo heir. If he lost?
"Protecting the Hwangbo name comes first."
After long deliberation, Deung Un-ryang resolved to intervene. Even if it earned him a scolding later.
The opponent was a villain disrupting Je-nam's peace, trying to rob and worse from a poor old man, right?
"So-cheon squad, listen up."
"Yes!"
"I'll handle the young master. You……."
As he issued orders, a chill prickled the back of Deung Un-ryang's neck, making him snap his head up.
A man crouched atop the wall.
Thud.
He tossed something to the ground. A person? It was a person—smashed beyond recognition…….
"Hey."
He called out.
"Wanna butt in?"
The icy words made Deung Un-ryang swallow dryly without thinking.
"That bastard!"
The So-cheon squad bared killing intent and moved to attack, but Deung Un-ryang stopped them sharply.
"Hold! Don't move!"
"C-Captain?"
The warriors blinked in confusion, but Deung Un-ryang stared tensely at the man on the wall.
"Yawn."
A lazy yawn and drowsy demeanor. But no room for carelessness. Even focused on the fight, he hadn't sensed the man approach.
And every instinct screamed……
……Death.
"Who might you be?"
"Me? Hmm, guess I've been out of the murim for a while. Even the Hwangbo kid's guard doesn't know me."
"What?"
Deung Un-ryang tilted his head, then his eyes bulged.
"N-no way? You?"
"Oh? Figured it out now?"
"G-Gwiyeong?"
"You know it."
Im Pilsaeng grinned wide in reply, sending chills down Deung Un-ryang's spine. He quickly ordered his men.
"Fall back! Now!"
"Pardon?"
"Fall back!"
At the urgent shout, the warriors retreated in flustered haste.
"Junior Deung Un-ryang greets Senior Gwiyeong."
"Nice to meet ya."
Im Pilsaeng waved lightly. Deung Un-ryang sighed in relief.
Shandong's Greatest Swordsman. How many villains had that nonchalant face butchered?
He alone—no, the whole So-cheon squad—wouldn't last a moment against him.
Gwiyeong, out of sight since the Ak clan's destruction. What brought the ghost shadow to Je-nam?
And this guy? Deung Un-ryang glanced at the bloody pulp Im Pilsaeng had tossed.
"Name's Yi Chilseong, I hear."
"Yi Chilseong?"
"Yeah."
"May I ask who that is?"
"The boss of the gang that sent underlings to rob that old man of his money and pants earlier."
"Pardon?"
"My lord saved the old man, and you guys showed up and misunderstood him as the villain."
"Whaaat?"
Deung Un-ryang could only gape.
"Ah, ask the old man for details. And don't interfere in my lord's fight. He's the type who gets stronger through stuff like this."
"……."
"Unless you want me chopping all your heads off and marching to the Hwangbo estate."
He said it smiling. But goosebumps erupted all over.
He could do it. The Mount Tai Bloodbath legend—slaughtering hundreds single-handed—was murim gospel in Shandong.
But…… lord?
Deung Un-ryang whipped his head toward the young master's opponent.
"Hey! You crazy bastard! Listen for once, damn it!"
The one dodging attacks and bellowing like a beast—who the hell was he for Gwiyeong to serve as retainer?
Wait a minute. If Hwangbo Wonpyeong's fist drops him……?
Better stop it.
But that might cost lives. Deung Un-ryang was trapped in a dilemma.