The Heavenly Demon Raises Her Realm (7)
Beom-un had survived the Great War between the Righteous and Demonic Factions in the past and ridden that fame all the way to the abbot’s seat at Shaolin. Yet the sight of the arrogant martial artist standing before him grated on his nerves like nothing else.
Her physical cultivation sat at the tail end of First-class, and her body could hardly be called exceptional. By outward appearance alone, the woman was no different from any other nameless martial artist you might find anywhere. But what she had shown was something else entirely.
Beom-un slid his gaze away from the masked woman and scanned the surroundings. More than a few Shaolin disciples lay sprawled across the floor. Not one of them possessed less talent or achievement than she did. They had all reached the Peak Realm in both internal energy and enlightenment. Their bodies had been forged through decades of relentless effort. Objectively, they should never have lost to her. That was how it was supposed to be.
Yet none of them had managed to leave so much as a scratch on her.
Why?
To Beom-un, the reason was obvious. It was simply that the woman wielded Shaolin’s own martial arts better than they did.
At that conclusion, the hands clasped behind his back tightened until the knuckles paled.
Maryo. It has to be one of yours, doesn’t it? You’re the only one who would dare teach Shaolin’s secret manuals outside these walls.
Haha. All that pretense of nobility, and in the end you were only human after all. To think you would raise an outsider who refused to die no matter how you tormented him, then send that monster here to shatter our reputation and pride!
But you were too hasty, Maryo! You should have waited. You should have waited until this woman fully bloomed!
Her talent is genuine. Greater than any outsider I have ever seen. Once polished, she would undoubtedly become a name that shakes the entire murim. But not yet. No matter how extraordinary the talent, a shallow realm still imposes limits. The jewel remains trapped inside unrefined ore, its true worth still hidden.
Right now, I can crush her whenever I wish. What might happen after a long period of growth, I cannot say. But it does not matter. If I break her properly today, that future will be delayed by a very long time. And by then I will likely no longer be in this world.
“Insolent girl. Just because you possess a scrap of talent, you think the world already belongs to you?”
Beom-un deliberately put on an angry front and glared at the woman.
“Then why don’t you show me? Show me how the world is not mine.”
“As you wish.”
Beom-un gave a slight nod toward the rear. A monk stepped forward.
“This humble monk greets you. I am called Yang Bae-hyul.”
Yang Bae-hyul—the most promising talent in Shaolin at present, the one who had inherited the Hundred-Step Divine Fist, one of the temple’s supreme techniques. A monster who already stood at the threshold of the Transcendence Realm despite his youth.
Woman, your arrogance ends here. No matter how outstanding your talent, you cannot possibly have obtained the Hundred-Step Divine Fist. Kneel before the greatest technique of Shaolin.
While Beom-un laughed inwardly, the masked woman slowly looked Yang Bae-hyul up and down. Then she let out a soft, amused chuckle.
“There’s no need to look any further. You’re a practitioner of the Hundred-Step Divine Fist.”
“How did you—”
“The physique of those who train in the Hundred-Step Divine Fist has very distinctive features, you see.”
The woman began listing them one by one: arms and back muscles developed to the point of deformity, fists hardened thicker than stone through brutal training, thighs strengthened to endure the tremendous recoil. “The traces of asceticism are quite to my liking. A martial artist should look like this.”
Not the slightest tension showed on her face as she nodded in approval. It was bizarre. The opponent before her had learned a supreme technique that ordinary people could never even encounter. In body, realm, internal energy, and martial arts, he should have held the advantage in every category—yet how could she remain so composed?
Was she resigned, having already foreseen defeat? No. Was she bluffing? That didn’t seem to be the case either. She simply possessed absolute confidence that she would not lose to Yang Bae-hyul.
Beom-un, watching the scene, felt a chill crawl up his spine. He swallowed hard, but there was nothing more he could do. Countless eyes were fixed upon them. Any further words from him now would only ring hollow. Rather than reveal his anxiety, it was better to trust in Yang Bae-hyul.
Yes. This is correct. If even I cannot believe in Shaolin’s greatest disciple, who would believe in me?
“It has been a long time since I met a martial artist who feels truly human. Come. I shall yield you three moves.”
“Miss, I must ask you not to underestimate this humble monk too greatly. I am—”
“So noisy. If you don’t want to be underestimated, prove yourself with action.”
Seeing the woman casually flick her fingers, Yang Bae-hyul closed his mouth, formed a fist, and took his stance.
The fist qi that rose from his hand flickered like heat haze. Proof that he had reached full maturity in the Peak Realm after endless training.
The Hundred-Step Divine Fist was named as such because its power could strike a target a hundred steps away. A practitioner could freely control distance itself—fist range, sword range, spear range, even the range of a bow. Any battlefield could be made their own.
From what the woman had displayed so far, she was a fist fighter. There was no reason to grant her the advantage of close range. Having judged this, Yang Bae-hyul chose to strike from a considerable distance, layering his qi over his fist.
He hoped this would at least shave away some of her arrogance!
But the fist that carried his full will achieved nothing. The masked woman simply thrust out an identical fist, and the two forces canceled each other out.
Yang Bae-hyul witnessed the scene with his own eyes and was so stunned he could not even speak.
It was not the cancellation itself that shocked him. That was strange enough, but what he had seen a moment earlier was far more impossible.
“...The Hundred-Step Divine Fist?”
The woman had used the Hundred-Step Divine Fist. An outsider had just executed a supreme technique of Shaolin. There was no way he had seen wrong. How many years had Yang Bae-hyul spent training that very art? He could not possibly mistake it—especially not when she had used it more skillfully than he himself could.
“How… how can you use that technique?”
Just what kind of existence was this woman? She had not only mastered countless Shaolin arts but could even wield the Hundred-Step Divine Fist. It was monstrous. How could such a being remain stuck in the First-class realm? If she had trained long enough to reach such proficiency, her internal energy and enlightenment should have long since surpassed that level. So why—
Seeing his lips tremble, the woman laughed once more.
“Did you really think I would answer? Monk. Rather than cling to pointless hope, you would do better to worry about the two moves you have left.”
Yang Bae-hyul drew in a deep breath and reset his stance. The priority was clear. He acknowledged that he was the lesser. He accepted that he would lose if she chose the means and methods. Only then did he seek the optimal path.
The woman had declared two moves remained. Therefore he would settle the match within those two moves. If he could not, defeat was certain.
Grinding his teeth, Yang Bae-hyul charged. The Hundred-Step Divine Fist produced strikes powerful enough to reach a hundred steps. If such force landed directly on a human body, even a massive boulder would be pulverized. A person’s life would undoubtedly be endangered.
Yet Yang Bae-hyul held nothing back. He believed that anything less would fail to reach her. Besides, since the opponent was an outsider, she would revive even if killed. He poured every ounce of strength into the strike—the best he could currently manage, a fist carrying the intent to kill.
A single fist that could shatter mountains.
“Mm. Not bad at all.”
The result of that all-out strike was nothing. The woman’s fist, thrown a fraction of a second later, somehow arrived first and neutralized the impact completely.
“For someone raised in a place like this, it’s rather decent.”
There was neither urgency nor desperation in her voice. Even after seeing everything he had, she still looked down at him from on high.
“Now. Only one move remains. Do you wish to continue?”
The moment that laughter-tinged voice reached his ears, the situation felt so surreal that Yang Bae-hyul could only laugh.
*
After shattering the one fist fighter who had been marginally worth watching, I went on to face several more martial artists. Every single one of them wielded Shaolin’s unique techniques and stood at or above the Peak Realm. Experts who would be respected anywhere in the world. People who deserved the admiration of countless martial artists.
Yet before me they were all utterly powerless.
What did it matter if their realm was high? What did it matter if they possessed vast internal energy? What did it matter if their bodies were strong? Those things were merely weapons. No matter how sharp the blade, in a child’s hand it becomes nothing but a toy. No matter how excellent the conditions, if one’s skill in wielding martial arts is shallow, nothing can be achieved.
All those who had stepped forward to defeat me lay sprawled on the ground without having landed a single blow.
“How boring.”
There wasn’t even a chance for my internal energy to run wild. I had expected the level to be low, but I never imagined it would be this pathetic. No matter how many powerful experts had died during the Great War between the Righteous and Demonic Factions, there should still have been a limit. To have fallen this far… I can’t even laugh. I never thought I would end up deciding that Mount Hua was better. At least that place had sharpened its blades for the sake of revenge. This place had simply ruined everything for the sake of fame and greed.
“Shall we end this now?”
I walked forward, stepping over the bald monks scattered across the floor. The only one still standing was the man who had remained in place until the end—the one who had shown me an unsightly sight in the past, barely clinging to life, and who had somehow managed to climb into the abbot’s seat.
“Only you are left.”
“T-this… this cannot be…”
“What will you do? Will you be the one to teach me my place?”
I know exactly what martial arts you use. I know your personality and your level. I will match you perfectly. I will move exactly as you fight and crush you completely. I will shatter your self-esteem so thoroughly that you will never think of rising again. So answer me. Say that you will fight. Say that you will protect Shaolin’s pride. Say that you will announce why you sit in the abbot’s seat. Come on. Hurry.
“…Please take the nameplate.”