Dragon-Phoenix Gathering (17)
Dragon-Phoenix Gathering (17)
I hadn't climbed onto this martial arena without a plan.
I'd been calculating in my head before I ever stepped up. Even if we were both first-rate, the gap in proficiency between this bastard and me was bound to be severe. Unlike me, who'd barely managed to learn the Mount Tai Axe Technique and Taijiquan, a low-ranking bastard like him could very well have studied some fairly impressive martial arts.
Whatever martial arts he'd learned, they were certainly better than the Mount Tai Axe Technique.
Our levels might be similar, but if the quality of our martial arts differed, I absolutely couldn't settle this with a contest of strength. I had to pressure him with psychology and cunning—force him into predictable actions.
"Twin axes?"
The low-ranking bastard echoed the term with a baffled expression. I showed him the axes at my waist and said,
"Using two axes. Twin axes."
"Then why are you only using one?"
"When I pull out the other one is my business."
Of course, there was never going to be a moment when I pulled out the other axe. But there was no way this bastard had investigated how I fight, so from now on, he'd be constantly worrying about my off-hand axe. Martial arts for wielding axes were rare, and among them, a man who used two hand axes was even rarer. To a bastard with so little ambition he was content as a low-ranking member of the Eight Trigrams Association, this was practically the realm of the unknown.
Dismissing the bewildered look on his face, the judge spoke up.
"Now, I will explain the rules. Victory is decided by stepping out of bounds, shouting surrender, or losing consciousness. Do you agree?"
Out of bounds meant leaving this stage. It was just wide enough for two people to fight up close, trading blows, but too cramped to run away and keep distance. The bastard pulled out his club with a tense expression, his eyes constantly scanning my flank and various other spots. The fact that his gaze kept drifting to my flank meant the deception tactic was another success.
Still, after today, my methods would become known to some extent, so it wasn't a trick I could overuse.
"I agree."
"I agree."
The moment we simultaneously voiced our agreement, the judge who had stepped forward raised his hand and shouted.
"Then, let the match begin!"
No gong rang out. The bastard hesitated, watching my movements, and when I showed no sign of charging in, he launched a big swing first. The club swept past before my eyes; then he adjusted his grip and brought the club crashing down toward my crown.
Kang!
When I blocked with my axe, my body sank for a moment along with a bursting sound. It was a stronger blow than I'd expected. Had it hit my head, I'd have been knocked out cold. If I'd underestimated him and only half-heartedly channeled my internal force, the axe would have snapped. As I blocked with the axe handle, the bastard aimed at my chest and launched a kick.
I twisted my waist to dodge and slid the axe handle in the opposite direction. The bastard, who'd been putting force into his club, suddenly had his center pitch forward, and I poured internal force into my axe. His face contorted with an oh-shit expression, and his qi faltered, swept along by my movement.
Tung!
A sound like striking an iron whip rang out, and the bastard faltered. I clicked my tongue inwardly and had to widen the distance. The impact was far weaker than I'd thought. The low-ranking bastard also swept his hand across his chest with a bewildered look and corrected his stance.
The Mount Tai Axe Technique was a fine martial art for building a foundation, but it had no means to bring down anyone who'd accumulated internal force at the first-rate level or higher.
There was no method for manipulating and dispersing internal force, nor could it, in its own way, condense internal force to land a decisive blow that struck the opponent's weak point. The Mount Tai Axe Technique's repertoire consisted only of wide swings and heavy downward chops, or quick downward chops and quick swings.
Even the wide swing hadn't pierced his Steel Qi, so I had to abandon the idea of beating him with force. A war of attrition would be unfavorable. The bastard, having taken my attack and apparently emboldened, raised the corners of his mouth and said,
"Is this the level of the Crimson Ring Sect's martial arts? Nothing special, huh?"
The bastard was starting his own psychological warfare in reverse. But, actually, the situation was good. Judging by his expressions up until now and the way he'd climbed onto the arena, this match hadn't been planned in advance. He was weighed down by the anxiety that he'd brought disgrace upon the Eight Trigrams Association's name, the psychological pressure that he had to get out of this situation. Just moments ago, this low-ranking bastard had been fighting with two shackles on.
On top of that, he hadn't been able to gauge my skills, so he must have been mentally cowed.
But having just felt my attack, he was starting to think he could beat me.
When an opportunity to suddenly reverse everything appears, a person can't stay calm. They start getting excited, thinking they absolutely have to seize this chance. This bastard was the same. Like the filthy scoundrel he was, only knowing how to jeer at others' weaknesses, his eyes were wide, he was breathing heavily, grinning like he was having the time of his life.
"So, you were posing as a Sect Leader with nothing but this pathetic martial art, is that it? Huh! I'm going to beat you to a pulp today, you fucking fraud!"
He was way too excited. The bastard shouted loudly and started swinging his club at me relentlessly. The cautious strikes from earlier were nowhere to be seen; he just flailed the club wildly, and with internal force poured into it, the club hummed with a vicious wind sound.
The bastard's club flew at my head; I dodged it and struck his flank.
Kang!
A strong resonance spread once again, and the bastard flinched for a moment, then changed the trajectory of his club and slammed it right into my flank. The Mount Tai Axe Technique wasn't working. There was impact, but it was a level he could sufficiently neutralize with his internal force.
"Ughk!"
The blow was heavier than I thought. I'd drawn up as much internal force as I could to block, but the shock still hit me like a fist piercing straight into my guts. I'd known I'd have to absorb some level of impact, but my steps wobbled and it was hard to control my expression.
The bastard saw my face, and the corners of his mouth went up even more as he kept swinging his club. My body hurt, but the situation was good. The bastard was extremely excited. Had he never seized a reversal opportunity like this since reaching the first-rate level? It was possible he actually lacked real combat experience.
"Eat this!"
But if I took the next hit, I might really lose. I deliberately made a big movement, widening the distance, and wind stirred along the bastard's trajectory. The hems of the spectators watching the match fluttered, and Hwang Ryong-seong was leaning back in his chair, observing with a serious face.
The bastard's club traced simple arcs, but each and every blow was menacing. Even when it stopped in the air, a bursting sound rang out as if he'd struck the wind itself, and he linked his consecutive strikes by bouncing the club off the air.
As if drumming, the air burst apart, and the bastard narrowed the range in which I could move.
The club danced from all directions.
But even in a situation that feels like death, a person finds a way out.
I deliberately retreated at a speed faster than the bastard approached. Then, I placed my foot on the edge line bordering out-of-bounds and put on a panicked expression.
"Whoa...!"
"I'll finish this right now!"
Thinking he'd completely seized the momentum, the bastard charged without hesitation. As if to try and stop him, I hurled my axe straight at him. But the bastard, keeping his stance as it was, moved only his head and dodged the axe.
Now, at this very moment.
The twin-axe deception trick no longer worked on an opponent who understood that the gap in our martial arts was clear. The bastard made this blatantly obvious and gripped his club with both hands to finish me off.
Then, he gathered his qi to show off his special technique.
As if flustered, I pulled my waist back and thrust both hands forward, recalling Hong Ye. The bastard knew nothing about me. He knew I used axes, but he didn't know I'd learned Taijiquan in Sichuan.
So, seeing I had no weapon, he thought I was wide open and charged right in with confidence. Gripping his weapon tightly, the bastard shot forward like a thunderbolt. With his body's trajectory dragging the club behind, it looked almost like sliding across an ice rink.
But I could see it.
But I could clearly see how the bastard was moving. Because training with Sannyeo up until now had been my strategy for beating unreasonable opponents above my level. Because it had been training to capture the movements of those faster than me.
"Eat this!"
The bastard's club flew in, aiming for my head. I recalled the profound principle of Taijiquan.
Four ounces deflects a thousand pounds.
It seemed about to touch my forehead, but it slipped past because I'd twisted my body. The club, fiercely slicing through empty air, couldn't find a target and lost its center. The bastard's gaze, now lunging forward, met mine, and I loaded internal force into my foot and blocked his path.
Unable to control his momentum, he crashed into my foot and tripped over the obstacle, his body pitching forward. I spun around once, placed my hand on the bastard's back, and applied the rotation of my waist and shoulders to draw out internal force and push him away.
Very lightly.
Like a child playing a prank.
Tuk.
"Uwaaaaaaaah!"
But even if the Taijiquan movement was light, the outcome was anything but light.
The bastard, riding the momentum he'd built trying to kill me moments ago, couldn't stop.
He shot out along the exact same trajectory he'd used to strike me,
burst through the second-floor railing and slammed his face into the bottom rail of the opposite railing.
"Urrrk!"
And from the recoil, he fell backward, lost his center, and plummeted toward the first floor.
Crash! Clatter!
Kwajik!
The sound of things breaking and tables being destroyed spread everywhere.
"Kyaaaaaaah!"
"Aigo, w-what is this! What's going on!"
It all happened in an instant.
I stuck my head over the railing and checked on the bastard. Covered in food, he was lying on a table, trembling.
"Ah, urgh...! Euugh...! Gruuugh...! Guuhk...!"
I offered a fist-wrapping salute toward that low-ranking bastard and said,
"I have learned a lesson from you."
"Gruaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!"
A scream of agony rang out, loud enough to split the rafters.
What could he do even if he felt wronged?
I'd won the match, after all.