Flying Claw Rakshasas #1
I fired Gwi Hwa Jang at Serin. Whoosh! She lightly twisted her body to dodge the incoming fireball. I followed up with a barrage of Gwi Hwa Jang, but she evaded every single one with steady grace.
"It's fast, but not so much that a peak expert couldn't dodge it."
"Hmm, really?"
"Yes. Even a first-rate could probably avoid it if there's distance or they're paying enough attention. I suggested it might work for ranged checks, but honestly, I don't think so."
Serin's cool assessment continued. I'd been planning to poke and harass from range with Gwi Hwa Jang before closing in, but it looked less efficient than I'd hoped.
"Alright, Serin. What if I hide it and spring it as a surprise right before diving into close combat? Think that'd land?"
"In that case... assuming I have no idea about Gwi Hwa Jang."
She closed her eyes, pursing her lips in thought.
"It'd work. Even if they dodge out of surprise, you could immediately follow up with Gui-hon-il-seom or something similar. If they try to block or evade that, they'd lose the initiative. Overall, it'd give you a strong edge in the fight."
"Exactly! Alright, let's lock that in—surprise attack only."
Gwi Hwa Jang had solid speed, impressive range, and decent destructive power. But using it at range against martial artists wasn't ideal. They could dodge it easily, and worse, it tipped your hand about your arsenal. Better to deploy it like we'd analyzed: at the last possible second, when no one saw it coming. Who'd expect a fireball from a palm technique before swords even clashed? At that distance, prepping a palm art would catch them off guard—they'd assume some weird fist technique, not a flaming orb. Land it? Great. Miss? They dodge or block, you seize the opening. Perfect advantage against close-quarters murim fighters.
"Watch me practice. Don't spar—just observe. Could be dangerous."
"Using it up close might be risky."
I imagined a foe charging, feinted a clash, and right as our swords would meet—Roar!—unleashed Gwi Hwa Jang in a surprise burst. The imaginary enemy startles, dodges the fireball, guard disrupted. I flow straight into Gui-hon-il-seom. Screeech! My blade plunges into their exposed chest.
Perfect simulation.
"Excellent. A lethal trump card. But your proficiency's a bit lacking right now. The activation feels a tad slow."
"Practice'll fix that."
Ever since absorbing Sihaeseon's yodan, I'd felt a massive shift. My control over gui qi was smoother, more creative. Shooting fireballs from my hands? Baby steps. Get truly fluent at emitting and manipulating it, and I could craft some wild skills. Ideas bubbled up nonstop. Hey, I'm from the modern world—grew up on games, comics, novels packed with superpowered freaks. Manipulate gui qi into a barrier? Deploy a domain? Fiery clones? A rain of gui qi arrows? The possibilities...
"Heh heh heh."
The more I trained gui qi handling, the closer those skills got to reality. Just picturing it brought a grin.
"I'm worried you'll end up less martial artist, more actual sorcerer at this rate..."
Lost in my daydreams, I barely noticed Serin approach with a concerned frown, taking my hand.
"Don't rely too much on gui qi techniques, Geun-hyeop. Obsess over developing them at the expense of your martial training, and it'll poison you."
"Relax. Who am I? The Screaming Rakshasa. I won't tunnel on gui qi. I'm after the perfect fusion of martial arts and gui qi. That's my path."
Peak experts. Transcendent masters. Hwa-gyeong. Murim had its realms, but folks who reached them weren't cookie-cutter products with identical philosophies and styles. Each had their own martial path, their unique way.
"So yeah, I'm walking my path. This is my martial art."
"...Geun-hyeop."
I laid it out, and she nodded, visibly moved.
"As expected. So reliable. Guess I need to redouble my efforts too."
"Let's grind together. Push to the horizon and beyond."
"Yes. Understood."
Namgung Serin felt a swell of pride as she massaged Geun-hyeop's back.
He's growing so well.
Geun-hyeop was an aggressively proactive martial artist. Sure, he had that special yodan shortcut, but his drive to elevate his realm was insane. A guy like this would inevitably become a monster someday. Serin took pride in that, but anxiety gnawed at her too.
"..."
His growth was explosive. Faster than her, who'd trained rigorously with elixirs since childhood. From barely above third-rate at their first meeting, he'd surged to beating first-rates, with inner energy reserves now surpassing hers and Wi Ha-young's combined. Catching up wouldn't take long. And he wouldn't stop there—he'd pull ahead even faster. What then? If he outpaced her completely?
I might become a burden...
A nightmare scenario. Serin refused to drag her husband down. Wi Ha-young was a Taoist—different field, no liability. But Serin? Same breed: martial artist. Fall behind, and she'd be a glaring weak point, dead weight. The thought made her frantic. She'd poured everything into recent training, but anxiety stalled her progress. Still stuck at early-to-mid peak expert. Real battles had yielded gains, but paled next to Geun-hyeop's rocket ride.
Nothing for it but to train harder.
Serin nodded firmly.
"Alright, time for some olfactory training?"
"Wha—ahh!"
Suddenly, Geun-hyeop buried his face between her breasts.
"Stop! No! Moving around got sweat in there...!"
"That's the best part!"
"Quiet, please!"
She yelled, but truth be told, she didn't hate this lecherous side of his.
Proof he craves my body.
Embarrassment was inevitable, though.
Anyway, I need to drill Cheong-gung Mu-ae Geom-beop even harder. Master deeper insights, teach him better paired arts... To make him stronger, I have to level up as his master.
Serin stroked the head of the man nuzzled between her breasts.
Between martial training and handling Nachal Bang duties as gang leader, my days stayed packed. With Hyangnak Palace rebuilt, our faction kept expanding. Profits soared—Galbi Jong's grin practically touched his ears. Nail down proper military force and talent cultivation, and we could evolve into a regional powerhouse sect. How to pull it off?
Mulling that one day, Galbi Jong spoke up.
"Screaming Rakshasa. New commission came in. Judged it needs the boss's personal touch, so reporting direct."
"What's the gig?"
"From Cheongja Escort Agency."
"Cheongja? Not the local one?"
If memory served, that was the next town over. Escorts roamed everywhere, though—routes got them known far and wide.
"Right. They requested us, Nachal Bang. On their current path."
"Green forest bandits?"
Classic escort foes. Sudden bandit swarms crippled logistics and profits. Natural to hire sects like ours for extermination.
"Not bandits. Yokai horde."
"Yokai horde?"
"Yeah. Flying Claw Rakshasas pack showed up."
"Flying Claw Rakshasas?"
Galbi Jong explained. Flying Claw Rakshasas: harpy-like yokai straight out of fantasy. Human-like from torso to thighs. But their long arms? Feathered wings ending in raptor talons—vicious claws. They soared freely on those wing-arms, wielding claw techniques despite being yokai. Below the knees: elongated chicken feet, equally nasty.
"Pack's seized a pass, hitting shipments repeatedly. Tough to counter since they fly, so the request."
"Hmm..."
Bandits were ground thieves; these were flying thieves.
"Galbi Jong. How tough are these Flying Claw Rakshasas?"
"Weaker than something like Demon Claw Rakshasas, obviously. Human-sized. But they fight in groups, and flight's a killer. Pretty dangerous."
Aerial yokai, huh.
"Good."
Decision made. Perfect chance to test Gwi Hwa Jang on them.