Chapter 49: The Fist King Overwhelms <Premium Start Arc>
The Fist King Overwhelms <Premium Start Arc>
Chapter 49: The Fist King Overwhelms <Premium Start Arc>
As Dan Woo-sung continued closing the distance, Dokgo Han instinctively retreated outward, widening the gap between them.
A dynamic of predator and prey.
Upon instinctively realizing his opponent was stronger, Dokgo Han felt he lacked time to think.
Time itself remained unchanged, but when one's spirit wavers, it feels that way. This indicated Dokgo Han lacked real combat experience relative to his martial prowess—especially experience against opponents stronger than himself. After all, no one had ever dared attempt to kill the young master of the Dokgo Clan.
Dan Woo-sung was no fool; he grasped Dokgo Han's psychology perfectly.
As if denying him any time to think, Dan Woo-sung deployed his Lightfoot Technique and closed the distance in an instant.
Their movements resembled a hunter cornering prey.
Whoosh!
Dan Woo-sung unleashed a fist wind, forcibly altering the trajectory of Dokgo Han's heavy sword.
Clang!
When Dokgo Han had no choice but to raise his sword to block, Dan Woo-sung suddenly appeared before him, reaching out to snatch the weapon.
Dokgo Han countered with a leftward deflection.
Dan Woo-sung's hand shifted from a claw to a fist, adding shoulder power in that brief moment to deliver a snapping strike.
Thud!
Dokgo Han's left shoulder was shoved backward. Regaining his balance mid-spin, he leaped into the air, twisting twice before landing—desperate to regain distance.
Yet before he could even touch the ground, he was forced to swing his sword downward. He'd sensed Dan Woo-sung pursuing relentlessly from below, sending a chill down his spine.
Whoom!
The attack's trajectory was simplistic by necessity. Dan Woo-sung tilted his posture to evade the heavy sword, then kicked Dokgo Han's legs mid-descent with his left foot.
Thwack!
Dokgo Han's lower body flipped upward while his torso tilted toward the ground. In desperation, he stabbed his sword into the earth and used it as leverage to propel himself away like a rower fleeing.
Dan Woo-sung smirked.
'Not bad at running for someone who looks like that.'
Dokgo Han staggered before barely steadying himself.
What a pathetic sight!
Namgung Wi, watching nearby, nearly burst into laughter before barely covering his mouth.
Come to think of it, he was next in line to face this Fist Guest.
'Damn it, this is no time to laugh.'
If both men ended up severely wounded, it would only benefit him. So Namgung Wi had no choice but to cheer for Dokgo Han.
"Dokgo Han, is that all you've got?"
The moment Dokgo Han heard Namgung Wi's grating voice, he snapped back.
"Shut up!"
Dan Woo-sung scratched his ear as if Dokgo Han's voice was an annoyance.
"Quiet, pup."
"You damn—!"
Dokgo Han violently yanked his sword back before channeling explosive internal energy into a forward swing.
His unfinished ultimate technique: Heaven-Shattering Momentum.
Screeeech!
The watching martial artists collectively flinched.
Dan Woo-sung, of course, didn't humor such a straightforward attack. A single step with his evasion technique placed him safely outside its range.
Yet the technique's momentum remained devastating.
The referee on the platform drew his sword in a flash, releasing a sword aura skyward before sheathing it just as quickly.
Clang!
The external sword energy he unleashed collided midair with Dokgo Han's technique, dispersing both forces cleanly.
Perhaps uncomfortable about drawing his sword before the Alliance Leader, the referee bowed slightly toward Yoo Jung-hong.
Yoo Jung-hong waved a hand dismissively.
"No harm done."
Incidentally, every expert on that platform was a renowned orthodox martial artist.
Dokgo Han, his composure shattered, began flailing his sword wildly. His initial momentum was fierce enough that Dan Woo-sung resorted solely to evasion. Momentum could unpredictably alter variables—or with luck, even land a reversal strike.
But the veteran orthodox masters easily predicted how this duel would end.
'A heavy sword, yet a light heart.'
A mismatch. Not all Dokgo Clan swordsmen were calm and steady just because they wielded heavy blades. Yoo Jung-hong and the Murim Alliance elders watched Dokgo Han with sour expressions.
He wasn't performing to his potential.
At this rate, the possibility of granting him the Nine Iron Swords was gone.
Only after wildly swinging over a dozen times did Dokgo Han realize he was on the path to defeat. The realization was horrifying.
'Ah...'
Only then did he sense the icy stares around him.
Gasping for breath, Dokgo Han adopted a defensive stance and studied Dan Woo-sung. How could he remain so calm and composed during a duel?
It wasn't his martial arts—the man himself exuded strength.
For a moment, Dokgo Han wondered if Dan Woo-sung had waited deliberately for him to regain his composure.
Dan Woo-sung met his gaze.
He had waited. Not out of pity, but as a senior's small consideration—hoping this orthodox swordsman would grow into his potential someday.
Dan Woo-sung nodded as if inviting him to try again.
Dokgo Han's mind settled. His opponent's courtesy softened his tone slightly.
"Here I come."
Dokgo Han announced his attack honestly before moving. After quelling his fear, he charged forward and leaped skyward.
Channeling energy into his left palm and squeezing every drop of internal energy for this final clash, he swung his heavy sword with a masterful grip.
Dan Woo-sung neutralized the palm strike with his right fist while seizing the sword with his left. Against Dan Woo-sung's superior power, Dokgo Han's grip technique meant nothing.
In that instant, Dan Woo-sung's torso was wide open.
Dokgo Han lifted his left foot, aiming a kick at Dan Woo-sung's waist.
Then—his body was suddenly airborne.
Dan Woo-sung had hoisted the heavy sword skyward with one hand. The blade, true to Dokgo Han's epithet "Blunt Edge," had no cutting edge, eliminating any risk of injury.
The two men formed a vertical line. Dokgo Han had no choice—he refused to release his sword.
Simultaneously, both unleashed their internal energy.
Their robes flapped violently from the resulting shockwaves.
Dan Woo-sung's eyebrows shot up as he channeled his White Lightning Ten Stages through the sword. Amidst the brief silence, Dokgo Han—who'd held on admirably—let out a strained groan through clenched teeth.
"Guhhh...!"
Then, Dan Woo-sung drove the sword into the ground and seized Dokgo Han's throat with his right hand.
"Ghk!"
Dokgo Han clutched at Dan Woo-sung's wrist with both hands, but it was futile. As both his internal and external energy were overwhelmed, his knees hit the ground.
Thud!
Dan Woo-sung pinned him with one hand and stared down.
'Be grateful you're orthodox, junior.'
The referee, who hadn't interfered, spoke calmly.
"Fist Guest, that's enough."
When Dan Woo-sung released his grip, Dokgo Han remained kneeling, gasping raggedly.
"Hahk...!"
He couldn't comprehend how he'd fought so messily or why he'd lost.
Dokgo Han stared blankly at his sword embedded in the ground before suddenly grabbing it.
In response, Dan Woo-sung kicked him square in the face, sending him flying.
Wham!
Dokgo Han spun a dozen times across the ground before skidding to a stop—his mouth split open by the kick. As he wobbled upright, Alliance Leader Yoo Jung-hong's energy-infused voice boomed.
"Enough!"
That single word shook the entire Murim Alliance. Those with weaker internal energy—like Cheol Myung-ho—clutched their ears, chests heaving from the shock.
Only then did Dokgo Han snap back to his senses.
Yoo Jung-hong spoke.
"Dokgo Han, use this as motivation to train harder. Disgraceful performances tarnish not just you, but the Dokgo Clan's honor. That the Fist Guest humored you for so long without you realizing it—how will you face your father upon returning?"
Dokgo Han exhaled sharply, glaring at Dan Woo-sung. After a deep breath, he clasped his fists.
"I yield."
Finally, the referee announced:
"Fist Guest, victory."
Dokgo Clan martial artists shoved past the White Dragon faction to check on Dokgo Han, who waved them off with a scowl.
Dan Woo-sung pulled the sword from the ground and tossed it back.
Dokgo Han caught the casually thrown blade, descended the stage first, lowered his sword, and bowed to Alliance Leader Yoo Jung-hong.
Yoo Jung-hong nodded silently in acknowledgment.
Dan Woo-sung also stepped down under the crowd's gaze.
A satisfying silence lingered. Everyone wore bewildered expressions—the tournament favorite had just lost to the Fist Guest.
Returning to the makeshift tent, Dan Woo-sung found Cheol Myung-ho wearing a smug expression as he clasped his fists.
"Master—"
Dan Woo-sung cut him off.
"Shut it."
"As you command."
Cheol Myung-ho solemnly sealed his lips, prompting Hwa Eun-seol to burst into laughter.
His face flushed crimson. He hadn't meant to amuse her, but since that was the result, he resolved never to be funny again.
Hwa Eun-wol smiled warmly.
"I learned much from watching. Congratulations."
Hwa Eun-wol had enjoyed the duel immensely. Observing Dan Woo-sung's techniques had been enlightening—he'd spent the entire time pondering how he'd counter them himself.
But Dan Woo-sung still had to defeat Namgung Wi, and there was one more opponent awaiting him in the finals. His bland response reflected his deliberate, monotonous fighting style earlier.
"Don't mention it."
On the stage, the Golden Sand Sword faced Plum Blossom Wanderer. Since this match would determine a finalist, all eyes were glued to the duel. Moreover, the Mount Hua Sect's sword techniques always drew attention—they were far from commonplace.
Plum Blossom Wanderer, a late-generation disciple of Hwasan, wielded a dazzling sword style, but the Golden Sand Sword was no less impressive.
The Golden Sand Sword was none other than Wi Mak-cheon, a Hainan Sect master often touted as a potential champion. His epithet derived from the Golden Sand Sword Technique he'd mastered.
While the Mount Hua Sect's prestige was undisputed, Wi Mak-cheon's skill was overwhelming.
He was hailed as the Hainan Sect's prodigy of the century.
Moreover, he wielded his sword left-handed—a rarity. The Hainan Sect's techniques were swift and unorthodox, while Plum Blossom Wanderer adhered to more conventional forms.
The duel was spectacular enough to bring smiles to the Murim Alliance elders' faces, but it didn't last long.
After twenty exchanges, Wi Mak-cheon's sword halted precisely at Plum Blossom Wanderer's throat, ending the match. Plum Blossom Wanderer smiled ruefully.
"Brother Mak-cheon, I've lost again."
Wi Mak-cheon grinned, sheathing his sword.
"Another time."
The two had arrived at the Murim Alliance over a hundred days prior and sparred often—though they'd pretended not to know each other until now.
Both lowered their swords simultaneously and bowed to Alliance Leader Yoo Jung-hong. It was the clean, honorable duel the Murim Alliance had hoped for—met with the loudest applause and cheers yet.
The referee declared:
"Golden Sand Sword, victory."
As Wi Mak-cheon descended, his gaze lingered on Dan Woo-sung's location.
He, too, expected Dan Woo-sung—not Namgung Wi—to advance to the finals.
Wi Mak-cheon smiled at Dan Woo-sung.
'See you in the finals.'