Shandong's Greatest Martial Family (4)
"Hm."
While Deng Un-ryang paced anxiously, unable to do anything, Im Pilsaeng crouched by the wall with a peculiar glint in his eyes.
The one fighting the young master right now was undoubtedly the Hwangbo family's young lord. The chest of this warrior, practically captured by him, bore the Hwangbo clan's lightning insignia—a thunder pattern—and he'd called himself part of the Little Heaven Squad. No doubt about it.
What position was a martial clan's young lord? Heir to the next generation. The family poured everything into raising him, especially for a colossal powerhouse like the Hwangbo clan. They'd have spared no effort. From the womb, he'd been fed the finest nutrients through his mother, and after birth, he'd chewed spirit herbs morning and night while getting his acupoints stimulated. Hell, he might've even received prenatal qi infusion from his ancestors.
A prepared talent, through and through. That's how he could punch a hole in that distant wall at his age. And that meant he'd already reached the Tanggi realm, projecting his qi outward.
Of course, it wasn't perfected. He was panting roughly after unleashing it—clearly just at the entry level. But in the murim world, countless spent lifetimes without reaching it, like grains of sand. For a kid to hit Tanggi? Impressive as hell.
And yet, Jin Yeo-rip was holding his own against this prodigiously talented Hwangbo young lord.
"Damn, technique aside—when the hell did your internal energy get that strong? It's not like it popped out pups or something."
Im Pilsaeng clicked his tongue at the sight of Jin Yeo-rip trading blows evenly with the Hwangbo heir.
Their spars had always focused on mastering Baji, so he'd never used internal energy. If he had, could he even keep up? That's why he hadn't noticed the growth in Yeo-rip's reserves. Never checked his pulse or anything...
"But weird. Didn't you say you trained Shaolin's profound arts? Those are wan-gong—late bloomers."
Wan-gong. Slow growers. Orthodox righteous arts were the same. Pure internal energy, no shortcuts, so progress crawled. But once built, it dwarfed the same quantity from impure methods. Especially Shaolin's demon-warding profound arts, paired with mental cultivation—they were the slowest in the Central Plains. Weren't their teachings to take each step firmly and never neglect vigilance?
So how could the young master, trained in Shaolin arts, match the Hwangbo heir—who'd received genius-level grooming since childhood and hit Tanggi?
"Heh, must've picked up a Xiaohuan Dan at Shaolin or something."
Im Pilsaeng chuckled in disbelief. Joke, of course. After fourteen years there, would they waste a spirit pill on an outsider like him? No way. It was that absurd.
"But if you win like this... Whoa!"
His stray thought spiraled into wild imagination, making Im Pilsaeng's eyes widen in shock.
Their difference was obvious, right? Hwangbo heir leaned on internal energy over technique, while the young master had honed his skills to a razor edge. Equal energy? Young master wins, easy.
The Hwangbo clan rivaled the fallen Ak family. With Yeo-rip inheriting Ak martial arts, this was like Ak's young lord beating Hwangbo's. How satisfying. He'd brag to So Hye and Master Hwang later—Im Pilsaeng's chest swelled with pride.
Bam!
Their full-force clash sent them staggering apart, gasping.
"Hah, hah... You're... really something."
Hwangbo Wonpyeong, hands on knees, looked at Jin Yeo-rip with genuine admiration. The feral glare had softened to pure respect.
First time. As young lord, fresh from his investiture ceremony, he had no real accomplishments. Just maintaining Jenam security or family management lessons for future patriarch.
Then he met him. An opponent he couldn't beat even at full throttle. Who in the Hwangbo clan could push him to gasping exhaustion? He was the next patriarch. Everyone was too busy marveling at his growth so far.
Refreshing. Like he'd emptied everything out, glimpsing his flaws. This fight felt like a serendipitous fated encounter.
Not for Jin Yeo-rip, though.
"Huff, huff... Fuckin' hell. Misunderstanding! Listen to me, damn it!"
Even exhausted, irritation boiled over. How could it not? He was being treated like a filthy thief robbing elders—or worse.
"Argh! Just thinking about it pisses me off!"
Jin Yeo-rip spat curses, face twisted in rage.
"Hey, let's call it. You look beat too—catch your breath, I'll explain. Got it?"
"No."
Hwangbo Wonpyeong shook his head at the soothing words.
"What the fuck? 'No'? I'm not the scum you think!"
"I know. Sounds like you're right."
"The hell you do?"
Didn't seem like it. Frustrated to death by Hwangbo Wonpyeong plugging his ears.
"Still, gotta end this fight proper."
"What?"
"I see it now."
See what? This stubborn...
Grateful opportunity for Hwangbo's pent-up doubts, maybe. But to Jin Yeo-rip? Pure pigheaded mule.
"Last one."
"Huh?"
"Stamina's gone, energy's dry anyway."
"Been that way for me ages!"
"So, one final clash decides it."
"One clash?"
"Yeah. Give it everything."
"Don't! You idiot! No 'everything'!"
Jin Yeo-rip bellowed, but Hwangbo Wonpyeong steadied his breath, readying.
Ah, this mad bastard... Wrong guy to mess with, big time.
Stamina drained dodging those monstrous fists—his own energy and strength nearly gone. Legs quivering. But that look in Hwangbo's eyes: no surrender.
Shit, no choice but to go for it.
"Don't regret this. No mercy!"
"Hoping for it! Hup!"
Hwangbo Wonpyeong inhaled deep, launching with all his might.
Thud! Ground shattered underfoot, every ounce in one strike.
Crimson Dragon Flame Blaze!
His fist brimmed with eerie heat, flames erupting.
"Hah!"
The shout-propelled strike rocketed toward Jin Yeo-rip.
"Tch!"
Scorching air rushed in—Jin Yeo-rip stepped swiftly.
Twelve Flows: Scatter form. Cheongae—Blue Haze.
Cheongae — Blue Haze
Whoosh! His form split in two.
Lure with afterimage, then full-power chin strike... Huh?
The leftover afterimage vanished instantly.
Fuck! You shy or what? Sucked out all energy to make it—why scatter so fast!
Heat. Hwangbo's terrifying fist-heat scorched the air, dispersing the image.
"Got you!"
Hwangbo grinned, spotting the real Jin Yeo-rip.
"Haa, fuckin' bullshit!"
No choice. Even if attack path exposed!
At extremity, mountains yield—Baji's Striking Method with River form.
Full force from close range!
Two fists crossed like shears at point-blank.
That instant: luck for Jin Yeo-rip, disaster for Hwangbo.
Crack!
"Gah!"
Legs pumped too long? Jin Yeo-rip's knee buckled as he planted.
Split-second gap decided it.
Screech!
Hwangbo's fist grazed Jin Yeo-rip's ducked head; Jin's smashed solar plexus—not chin.
Thwack!
Hwangbo froze mid-punch; Jin Yeo-rip dropped to knees before him.
Little Heaven Squad warriors clenched fists watching. Im Pilsaeng's lips curved faintly.
From afar, Hwangbo standing looked victorious.
"...Your... name...?"
Hwangbo glanced down with just his eyes.
"Jin Yeo-rip."
Head drooping, Jin rasped.
"Good name... I'm Hwangbo..."
That was it. Eyes fluttered shut; body toppled back.
Thud! Sprawled flat.
Damn brute. Huge frame, huge crash.
"Haa..."
Jin Yeo-rip sighed, flopping back onto his butt.
"Told ya, just listen."
Little Heaven Squad rushed over.
"Young lord!"
Deng Un-ryang checked pulse frantically, then exhaled in relief. But no scolding Jin Yeo-rip—Im Pilsaeng loomed beside him.
"You alright?"
Jin Yeo-rip snapped irritably despite exhaustion.
"Where the hell were you? Nearly died! What kinda bodyguard?"
"What? Handled it fine without me."
"Say that again?"
"You ditched me first, young master. No heads-up—just bolted while I was chatting 'em up."
"Shit!"
Fuming, but no comeback. He'd asked about Taesan Blood Oath, then ditched without a word.
"Haa, damn. Let's head back. Met a freak—whole body's aching."
"Worthy foe."
Im Pilsaeng grinned at the grumbling.
Impressive. Knew talent was special, but this growth? Beyond. Against Hwangbo's meticulously raised heir, no less. Raw youths, sure—but to Im Pilsaeng, it echoed Ak crushing Hwangbo long ago. Pride swelled.
"Last one was luck."
"Haa, yeah. If legs held... I'd've lost."
"Train harder then. Qi's infinite, but not. Same spot later? Leg strength saves you."
"Tch, one hit from that fist and I'm dead. Know how strong?"
"Get stronger than it."
"Easy for you."
"Never was. That's murim life."
"Hey, what're you doing?"
Mid-chat, Jin Yeo-rip squinted at Im Pilsaeng.
Squatting, back turned.
"Hop on."
"Pardon?"
"Legs shot, right?"
"..."
"I'll carry. Savor the win."
"No thanks. Not a kid."
Jin Yeo-rip shoved the back, rising slowly.
"Ow, bones killing me."
Im Pilsaeng chuckled at the shaky but upright stance, eyeing Deng Un-ryang.
"You, Little Heaven captain?"
"Y-yes."
"Fair fight, obvious."
"Yes."
"Report it straight to the clan."
"Got it."
Deng bowed, hoisted unconscious Hwangbo Wonpyeong, and left.
"What? You know 'em?"
"Just met."
"I didn't screw up?"
"Screw up?"
"Looked like Hwangbo young lord..."
"..."
"Trouble for Hwangbo contract? Fine?"
Im Pilsaeng smirked at the frowning mutter. Worried about deals now?
"Totally fine."
"Yeah?"
"Sure. They admitted fair fight. Started from their young lord's misunderstanding."
"But."
"Young master, I'm Gwiyeong. Taesan Blood Oath—know it?"
"..."
"I'm the expert here. Don't know murim ways yet—no issue. Clan like Hwangbo won't nitpick fair win. Might thank you for teaching their kid."
"Good then... Keep from Father, anyway."
"Why?"
"Worries him needless."
"Hm."
Im Pilsaeng nodded with a chuckle at the request.
Worry? Nonsense. If Ak clan, not Cheongeumbang? Feast now. Sigh, maybe oppose merchant life? Striding murim as warrior? Epic. Im Pilsaeng dreamed happily for a moment.