Heavenly Thunder... Martial God? (6)
Damn it! Goddamn it! You fucking...!
That was what Jin Yeo-rip screamed inwardly as he rolled desperately across the floor.
He couldn't rest for even a moment. If he slacked off for just an instant, he'd end up not just losing limbs but getting his whole body shredded.
Krunch!Boom!Kaboom!
Wherever he rolled, sword qi slammed down, shattering the floor to pieces.
The gap between Hyeonggi and Tanggi was enormous.
And Tak Sobak, having reached Tanggi long ago, wielded his energy with terrifying skill.
Damn it. No way out. There has to be a way...
Then, in that instant, a figure flashed through his mind: Hwangbo Wonpyeong, the young master of the Hwangbo family.
"Huh?"
And just like that, the moves from their fight replayed in his head. The punch that had demolished a distant wall—Tanggi's entry level.
In that moment of utter despair, a spark of hope for survival ignited within him.
He had definitely been at the Tanggi realm. But Jin Yeo-rip had won.
It was a fluke of luck in a split second, but a win was a win.
I can do it too. No—I will do it.
Just observing the principles of martial arts wouldn't grant enlightenment, but as he dodged attacks frantically, he scrutinized Tak Sobak's movements.
It was his only shot at survival.
That's how humans are. When death looms, even latent potential awakens.
The swing of his blade, the energy cloaking it detaching from the metal to form a crescent-shaped sword qi.
Jin Yeo-rip compared it to Hwangbo Wonpyeong's. Different arts, but there had to be common threads.
All the while, flesh tore and blood sprayed. Rolling over debris, thorns pierced his body.
But Jin Yeo-rip focused not on the pain, but on Tak Sobak's techniques.
In that heightened state of concentration, time seemed to slow at some point, and things invisible before became clear.
The moment the energy clinging like a tail to the sword snapped free—Tak Sobak's subtle motion.
Starting from his core, it flowed through shoulder and arm to the blade.
The elongated sword qi stretched like taffy, then snap—it shot forward.
Kaboom!
It exploded on impact where Jin Yeo-rip had rolled away, scattering harmlessly.
No way?
Doubt arose, and the answer followed.
Tang—project.
The instant it detached from the sword, the energy's flow accelerated explosively, like a gunshot.
Aha!
Goosebumps erupted from his scalp, shuddering through his entire body.
Hwangbo Wonpyeong, Im Pilsaeng, Hwangbo Mungang. Lessons from spars with those stronger than him budded like flowers on the verge of bursting, finally blooming in this battle with Tak Sobak.
It hit him suddenly, but it was a stroke of fortune born from his desperate will to live while walking the blade's edge—and the culmination of his agonized pursuit of the next step beyond Hyeonggi's peak.
He was thrilled. Goosebumps lingered. Breath burned in his throat, wounds covered his body, blood soaked his clothes crimson—but the rush was indescribable.
He was still being pushed back, one hesitation from dismemberment.
Yet a smile crept onto Jin Yeo-rip's lips.
Chonggi gathered internal energy; Hyeonggi condensed and manifested it externally...
Following that flow? Unleash at maximum, then sever the extension in an instant.
Without slowing the speed.
Whummm!
Internal energy swirled in his dantian again, circulating through his meridians and surging wildly through his body.
"You rat bastard! Die!"
Tak Sobak's voice rang out. Had he been yelling the whole time?
Only now did Jin Yeo-rip's eyes clearly register Tak Sobak's vicious face.
Was that his usual expression?
The crescent sword qi from his blade filled his vision.
He didn't think—he acted on instinct. Jin Yeo-rip, who'd only dodged until now, thrust his fist forward.
The energy whirling through his body flowed straight out along his fist.
Suddenly, his body felt hollow, as if everything had been sucked out—but it was refreshing, invigorating.
The projected energy snapped free.
Kabooooom!
The sword qi and fist qi collided midair in a massive explosion.
But the blast point was too close to Jin Yeo-rip.
Caught in the shockwave, he hurtled into the inn's wall, crashing through.
Thud!
The crumbling wall gave way, and he tumbled into the mud outside.
Shhhh!
Only then did the rain register. It had poured the whole time, but his focus on Tak Sobak had drowned it out.
"Young master!"
Im Pilsaeng, locked in a fierce stalemate with Dokbi Yeo Jeokgwang, cried out worriedly at Jin Yeo-rip flying from the inn.
"Where you lookin'?"
Clang!
"Guh!"
The evenly matched fight exacted a heavy price for his distraction.
That's why he couldn't make it. Shandong's top swordsman, my ass—getting beat and rolling in the dirt.
Jin Yeo-rip eyed Im Pilsaeng, who rose from the mud just like him.
But in that moment, nausea surged uncontrollably, like after a night of drinking when only bile remained.
"Urk!"
Clotted blood spewed onto the ground.
It didn't wash away in the rain, lingering before his eyes.
What the hell? Dark red—stagnant blood?
But why did vomiting blood feel so refreshing?
"Young master! Damn it all! Hold on just a bit! I'll be right—damn it!"
Im Pilsaeng sensed something wrong and tried to help, but Dokbi's assault pinned him down.
Wearily watching their clash through fatigued eyes, it was truly earth-shaking.
Kaboom!
Im Pilsaeng's sword cleaved a boulder; Dokbi's palm obliterated a massive tree trunk at the base.
It was a first. Seeing Im Pilsaeng pour everything in like that.
In their spars, he'd always been relaxed.
The others fought desperately too.
Kang Seong-gil, ejected outside first, struggled against the ball-shaped Tanggu.
He'd rolled so much in the mud, he looked like a mudman.
Dirtied by the ground, rinsed by rain—repeat.
Was the murim full of guys like this?
Flash!
The world lit like midday.
Rumble!
Thunder shook the heavens, rattling eardrums.
Tak Sobak emerged from the inn, his appearance amid the storm thunderously menacing.
But maybe...
Jin Yeo-rip clenched his fist. It felt different now. Full, packed tight.
That's how it always is. Gain power, and suddenly you feel like you can do something—confidence surges.
Flash!
The world brightened. Jin Yeo-rip steadied his breath, gathering strength.
His Twelve Flows energy vortexed, awakening fiercer battle spirit than before, raging to burst free.
Rumble!
With thunder, he charged through the mud.
Tak Sobak swung his sword in response.
Blade sliced rain; fist repelled it.
He had a weapon, Jin Yeo-rip bare hands—but it didn't matter anymore.
Tanggi application: Bong Mountain Strike—project!
Fwoosh!
Energy shot from his fist, parting rain as it flew.
"Wha?!"
Tak Sobak's eyes widened in shock at the sudden shift.
"T-Tanggi?!"
Dodging the energy, he shouted. Jin Yeo-rip smirked coldly.
I just figured it out, asshole!
Now I'm truly, truly awakened!
It fused seamlessly. Energy projected relentlessly through gaps in the sword's path, sharpening bit by bit.
Real combat, not practice—life on the line accelerated his growth steeply.
Wet clothes tore, flesh gashed, blood sprayed—but his fists relentlessly bored into Tak Sobak.
Wounds? Screw that. If you're after my neck, take a grievous wound yourself!
Dozens of exchanges in moments. Im Pilsaeng, worried at first, couldn't hide his astonishment at Jin Yeo-rip smashing incoming crescent qi.
Matching Tak Sobak? That's... Tanggi, right? When the hell...?
So brave, so impressive. Pride swelled seeing his master grow again.
"Where you lookin', punk?!"
Dokbi, enraged at the distraction, unleashed a savage palm strike.
Slash!
But it was Dokbi who bled.
"Guh."
Im Pilsaeng retreated, his eyes chillingly cold. Worry and anxiety gone.
"With my lord so impressive, I can't stay pinned by scum like you. I'll pour it all out!"
Calm now, sans urgency, his sword gleamed with newfound sharpness.
The battle shifted. Im Pilsaeng gradually overwhelmed Dokbi; Jin Yeo-rip held even with Tak Sobak.
Flash! Rumble!
Amid thunder, lightning, and pouring rain, their deadly duel raged on.
"Hah... hah..."
But gaps widen over time. Fresh to Tanggi, overconfident, Jin Yeo-rip had burned energy excessively without restraint, now panting heavily.
"You're fading, punk. Holding your own against me is impressive enough. But it's over! Die! Sword Slash: Waxing Moon!"
Tak Sobak leaped high, gripping his long, thin blade vertically with both hands.
The name said it all: Waxing Moon, new moon. Like the crescent sword qi from inside the inn.
Damn, how to block that? No strength left.
As Jin Yeo-rip gathered energy to counter—
Flash!Rumble!
Thunder struck.
Goddamn loud... Huh? Wait, this interval's too short.
Sound travels 340 meters per second... Not even a second?
"Die!"
Tak Sobak poured everything into his blade for the finale.
Flash!Rumble!
World blazed; thunder crashed simultaneously.
"Huh?"
Jin Yeo-rip instinctively raised his hand toward Tak Sobak—and a blinding bolt speared down like a lightning rod onto the upraised blade.
It happened in a blink.
Time froze; all stared skyward.
The flash vanished. Darkness returned, and Tak Sobak, charred black by direct lightning hit, plummeted into the mud.
Splat.
Shhhh!
Time resumed; rain swallowed even the rising smoke.
Nothing but rain sounds. All gaped silently at the dead Tak Sobak.
What just happened? How could lightning strike him so precisely?
Unable to comprehend, they sought the cause.
Jin Yeo-rip, frozen with hand outstretched to the sky?
N-No way?
Who else could think otherwise? All concluded the same.
Jin Yeo-rip summoned the lightning and slew Tak Sobak.
Divine might. One strike captivating all, silencing them.
But Jin Yeo-rip blinked at the empty sky where Tak Sobak had been, hand still raised.
M-Me? Lightning?
Pure luck. The bolt hitting his blade tip right then was sheer fortune.
Too close, and Tak Sobak raising his long sword skyward in that instant...
Coincidences piled into this outcome.
After giving up everything. Ah, life's jackpot.
Buddha's saving me again, huh.
"Whew, huh?"
Relief and emptiness from Tak Sobak's death mingled as Jin Yeo-rip exhaled deeply, sensing stares upon him.
"Y-Young master? What the hell was that?"
After long silence, Im Pilsaeng asked with bulging eyes.
...Huh?
"H-How'd you summon lightning...?"
...Pardon?
Ridiculous question.
How? No way they think I called it...
But all eyes said the same.
What nonsense... Right?
No, it's luck. But isn't luck skill too?
Zhuge Liang summoned the southeast wind at Red Cliffs for victory, right?
As if he literally blew it. Seasonal winds shift around winter; he just predicted the weather.
Probably not certain—hence his escape plan.
Maybe Red Cliffs was Zhuge Liang's lucky day.
Same here. Didn't expect the bolt exactly then, but knew it was dangerously close.
Today was his lucky day.
And now, that luck turned favorable.
Their stunned gazes at him proved it—shocked by Tak Sobak's death, no, the lightning on his body, they'd paused apart, staring blankly.
Awe? Shock? Disbelief? Complex expressions.
No need to explain. Lightning principles unknown here.
Hell, he didn't know exactly either.
So, milk the misunderstanding.
His genius whirred like a whipped top, seizing the unexpected.
Confusion hid; solemnity filled his face.
Lowering his hand behind his back, half-lidded eyes swept Im Pilsaeng, Dokbi, Kang Seong-gil, Tanggu in turn.
Then, in a low voice:
"Sigh. I swore never to use it, at the earnest plea of a divine monk I met by chance at Shaolin.
But seeing you kill for mere money... I couldn't hold back.
Thus, open the precept against killing—you'll understand."
Jin Yeo-rip disguised 'that one' from Repentance Cave as a divine monk, lending credibility to his bluff.
Who cares? From Shaolin, so Shaolin monk.
Standing tall with confident poise, he declared to all:
"Shaolin secret art... Heavenly Thunder."