Chapter 115
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 115
Chapter Title: That's What They Call a Sect Master-Level Expert
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Wang Gineung was genuinely grateful to the Great Black Dragon God.
He'd lost everything and was just biding his time until the Shanghai Wang family crumbled.
Yet the culprit behind it all, Ryu Gangcheol, wasn't just alive—he'd walked right up to him on his own two feet.
From his perspective, it could only be the blessings of their mighty progenitor.
"Hey, mate, I get why you're thrilled and all... but aren't you forgetting something?"
Of course, there was one person who could only watch Wang Gineung with a sour expression.
"Don't worry about the escort. This time, I'll handle it personally so no one lays a finger on you."
"Nah, not that."
Ryu Gangcheol shook his head slightly.
He pointed his blood-smeared knife at Wang Gineung, whose excitement bordered on madness.
"Even if I'm a son of a bitch, I'm the wolf pup who came to kill you, mate."
I'm not some mutt you can catch whenever you want—I'm the beast that rips your throat out with this knife.
So get serious now.
Ryu Gangcheol's words dripped with killing intent.
"Ah, of course I haven't forgotten that."
But even that razor-sharp warning didn't faze Wang Gineung.
He just flashed a sly grin.
"I just didn't bother with it since there's no need."
"...Isn't that confidence a bit over the top?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"Is that so?"
Wang Gineung wore a relaxed smile, like he was watching a puppy yapping away, insisting it was a wolf.
Ryu Gangcheol smirked at the sight.
He flipped the knife into a reverse grip and spoke in a cold voice.
"Guess I'll have to give you a reason then."
And in that instant—
Ryu Gangcheol vanished from Wang Gineung's view.
Instead, a gleaming knife blade slashed toward his nape.
Sharp as a guillotine that could sever a king's head, yet stealthy and swift as a mosquito's proboscis—it was the perfect ambush.
Kwachik!
"...?!"
Wang Gineung spun like a top.
His five fingers, clenched like a dragon's talons, had caught the knife blade.
Ryu Gangcheol's eyes went wide seeing his high-level knife—one that could slice through rock—snagged barehanded, without even gloves.
Even then, his instincts as a seasoned knife fighter twisted the blade to sever those fingers.
But the result was futile.
Kigik, kkadududuk!
"...Mate, what the hell are those fingers made of? Tougher than a level 90 Blade Hawk feather knife?"
"The main ingredients are discipline and hard work."
Like a hydraulic press crushing a junked car.
Ryu Gangcheol gaped at the fingers mangling his knife and asked in disbelief.
Wang Gineung didn't bother explaining the greatness of the Seventy-Two Dragon Martial Arts or the profundity of the Ten Perfect Dragon Claw Style.
He simply swung his half-clenched hands, driving back Ryu Gangcheol as he drew a spare knife.
Pababababat!
"Hup...!"
The moment he dodged the fingers aimed at his throat.
His neck was nearly sliced by nails gleaming with a chilling edge.
No time to staunch the blood from his neck—he blocked with his knife as fingers lunged for his eyeball.
But that was a mistake.
They seized the knife and slithered up like writhing snakes, snapping his wrist in an instant.
Ududuk!
That was just the beginning.
They raked his legs as he lunged forward.
His swung knife was flicked away by mere fingers.
Without mercy, hands reached for his eyes, nose, mouth—even his groin—clawing and tearing.
"Guhk?!"
Those relentless strikes weren't just tough fingers or sharp nails.
Two hands like thousand-jin iron maces.
Two arms like living, lashing whips.
Ten fingers like bone-crushing hooks, ten nails like flesh-slicing daggers.
It was a realm only a warrior who had honed their body to the limit through grueling training could achieve.
The reason Wang Gineung could rampage barehanded—and why Ryu Gangcheol was utterly overwhelmed.
Two knives couldn't handle the twenty-four weapons packed into Wang Gineung's hands.
'Martial arts aside, strength... no, even speed—everything's faster than me?!'
Wang Gineung's terror went beyond that.
Physical prowess in strength and speed.
Perfectly honed hands and fingers.
And technique that transcended dimensions.
He dominated Ryu Gangcheol in every way, yet never let his guard down—targeting vitals relentlessly.
Yet he didn't obsess over vitals alone; he cunningly racked up gains from even nail-sized wounds.
And rather than rushing for a quick win, he methodically accumulated damage, steadily widening the gap with caution.
Already outclassed in skill.
No gaps in mindset either.
No matter how Ryu Gangcheol struggled, he couldn't compete.
Kwachik!
"Kuhk!"
Before even fifty exchanges, Wang Gineung shattered both of Ryu Gangcheol's hands and knees.
He stomped on the sprawled man's chest and grinned.
"You still think I need to worry if you're a son of a bitch or a wolf?"
Even that mocking taunt didn't provoke Ryu Gangcheol to anger.
He just spat a mouthful of blood and asked in disbelief.
"...Mate, what drug did you take to get this strong?"
"I told you before. Don't underestimate me just 'cause I use polite speech."
Back at the wailing, he'd at least put up a fight.
But now, toyed with by a non-player? Unbelievable.
Wang Gineung looked at Ryu Gangcheol's dazed expression and replied matter-of-factly, as if it were obvious.
"Of course I'm strong. I'm a Sect Master-level expert of the Seven Dragon Society."
"And what does that mean?"
"The mere fact you don't know what that means is why walking in here on your own was the stupidest thing you could've done."
Like he was looking at the world's biggest idiot.
Wang Gineung sneered and continued breezily.
"You're from the North, so you know the basics—'Sect Master' means a revered teacher or founder of a sect."
"Yeah."
"So what does 'Sect Master-level' in the Seven Dragon Society mean?"
"..."
For the first time, Ryu Gangcheol—who'd kept his cool even as his limbs broke—fell silent.
He only knew the basics about the Seven Dragon Society, nothing of their doctrines or history. No interest either.
But that was enough.
To grasp the meaning in Wang Gineung's words.
"Get it now? In our Seven Dragon Society, the only ones called Sect Masters are the seven progenitors who created the Seventy-Two Dragon Martial Arts."
"So a Sect Master-level expert is...?"
"Just as you think."
Anyone who knew the Seven Dragon Society even a little would know this as basic common sense.
Wang Gineung mocked Ryu Gangcheol—player-like in attacking affiliates without knowing the obvious—and spoke coldly.
"Someone who has reached the same heights as the great progenitors in at least one of the Seventy-Two Dragon Martial Arts."
The Seven Dragons.
Absolutes who ended the Silver Age by devouring even gods and ruled the Bronze Age.
Now mere legends, but that only made their weight heavier.
Sure, there'd be exaggeration.
Era gaps to consider.
Even so, the legendary Seven Dragons were terrifying.
Even the first Sword Master, the Sword Emperor, was said to have died fighting them.
"You should've come back after hitting level 90 at least. Then you might've been a match."
That's why Wang Gineung declared it.
To challenge him—even limitedly on par with those Seven Dragons—you needed to be at least an Archduke-level player.
He curled his lip at Ryu Gangcheol, who'd charged in on arrogance alone.
"Look forward to it. This time, I'll teach you what real pain is."
"You mean the odds?"
"Yes."
"Hm, well..."
At Li Chingwei's sudden question, Rimon pondered briefly before answering.
"Can't say for sure, but basing it on that knife-wielding bastard, best case is fifty-fifty."
"Even with a Sect Master-level expert like the Wang family head?"
"Yeah."
He nodded once.
Rimon continued in a low voice.
"Your Seven Dragon Society's experts are definitely strong. Psionics and the Seventy-Two Dragon Martial Arts are cheat-level powers."
Pyrokinesis (ignition ability).
Psychokinesis (telekinesis).
Teleportation (space manipulation).
Precognition (foresight).
Telepathy (mental resonance).
Clock Up (time manipulation).
Healing (bio-manipulation).
The seven psionics innate to the descendants of the Seven Dragons.
Truly astonishing superpowers.
But overly generous for humans.
Having psionics didn't guarantee strength, and without the mind and body to back it, self-destruction loomed.
That was the brilliance of the Seventy-Two Dragon Martial Arts.
They allowed accumulating psionics through acquired training.
Controlled psionic flow granted superhuman physical abilities and combat superpowers unrelated to innate gifts.
That's why psionics were seen as the ultimate mysteries before the Iron Age.
"Especially a Sect Master-level expert—their pure martial might surpasses most Archduke-level players."
In that sense, Sect Master-level experts were true supermen.
Masters who'd pushed one of the Seventy-Two Dragon Martial Arts to the limit—the peaks of the Seven Dragon Society.
"Still think it's fifty-fifty?"
"Yup."
But Rimon was firm.
Using Ryu Gangcheol as benchmark.
Even Black Dragon Construction with Wang Gineung had less than 50% chance of holding off the beasts.
"Because those beasts are all players."
"...Skills are the issue, right?"
"Yeah. Player skills often defy counters."
Psionics and Seventy-Two Dragon Martial Arts.
Skills that made the impossible possible.
He had no interest in debating which was superior—pointless but intriguing.
What mattered: Liberation Brigade high execs likely had something special.
Power granted to one alone.
Each a miracle.
Unique Skills.
"Of course, even powerful Unique Skills have limits, so smart countermeasures could hold them off... but..."
He trailed off briefly.
Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Rimon continued indifferently.
"Rush in overconfident without knowing their abilities, and even a Sect Master-level expert dies."
"I'm a bit confused, mate."
Wang Gineung couldn't understand.
Why his mouth was so dry.
How he'd ended up cornered like this.
And how Ryu Gangcheol—limbs broken and writhing moments ago—stood grinning unscathed.
And above all...
"Who was it just now, talking about teaching me pain, Sect Master mate?"
This Ryu Gangcheol—how many was it now?
Surrounded by eight of them, knives buried in his back and side, Wang Gineung could only grit his teeth.