Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Assassin Kim Ji-yong - [4]
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Yi Pung looked at Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman confidently gripping a one-meter Japanese sword and thought with worry.
'Has the Martial Alliance lost its mind? Do they really want to draw blood?'
But seeing the other martial artists who had arrived with Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman, it didn't seem like that was the case.
Most of the weapons held by the martial artists stepping out of their cars were wooden swords. Heavy and sturdy enough to break bones or crack skulls, they weren't quite lethal weapons, which made them a favorite among martial artists since they could be excused even against the police.
A few had iron rods or judge's brushes, but none had brought bladed weapons.
This was plenty reasonable. And so were the people themselves.
Yi Pung scanned the faces of the gathered martial artists from inside the car and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Luckily, no big-money players in sight."
Yi Do-hyeok had only just calmed down. He was still panting as he asked,
"Big-money players...?"
"That O Eun-rim girl we saw last time? Nothing on that level here. All small-timers worth less than 500 million."
"You're saying they're trying to take down a peerless master with a bunch of nobodies?"
"Master or not, get swarmed and you're screwed. Even masters don't have extra hands. Sure, a true peerless expert would drop them all before they could surround him... but with a 100-billion guy here..."
No one expected Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman, worth 100 billion, to actually beat a peerless master.
But they could hope he'd at least hold out somehow, even if he was hopelessly outmatched.
And if the small-timers piled on while the peerless master's hands were tied dealing with Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman? That would definitely be a headache for the expert. It was the most basic tactic for facing a peerless master in the martial world.
At that moment, a martial artist wielding a judge's brush stepped forward.
He bowed deeply toward the car carrying Heo Pung-gae and shouted,
"That was an amazing display of skill! It's an honor to witness a peerless realm in action!"
Yi Do-hyeok was baffled, but Yi Pung just grinned. Korean martial artists always tried to build rapport no matter the situation—it seemed that trait wasn't going anywhere. The flashing lights earlier were the same. Facing a peerless master stirred awe over fighting spirit, it seemed.
Now that he looked, only Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman radiated real killing intent. Things might just go smoothly if they played it right.
Yi Pung hoped so, but once again, Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman shattered that hope.
He strode forward and swung his scabbard.
There was a thud, and the martial artist who had just bowed clutched his head and collapsed.
Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman began smashing the downed man's head with the scabbard.
"Not gonna stop him?"
Yi Pung whispered, and Heo Pung-gae murmured back,
"You think I'd survive what he'd do to me back home if I did?"
The merciless beating stopped only when the man lay motionless.
Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman turned to the others and said,
"Anyone else wanna play nice?"
No one answered. He continued,
"Then let's go."
Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman raised his Japanese sword and advanced. Thirty martial artists followed behind.
And the car door opened.
Only one person stepped out.
Heo Pung-gae faced the approaching thirty-one, hands in his pockets, back straight.
He walked slowly, putting distance between himself and the car, then eyed Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman.
He remembered that face. And that he was a considerable expert.
Pretending to be bored, half-closing his eyes, Heo Pung-gae probed the man's energy.
Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman's internal energy stood out sharply among them. The volume coursing through his meridians was impressive. Had he trained nonstop for the past six years?
After assessing the enemy, he surveyed the terrain.
It wasn't his preferred spot for a fight. Outdoors, for one. His Flicking Finger Skill's elusive projectiles shone in cluttered spaces full of obstacles. Indoors—especially cramped ones—was even better.
But here, there was just a lone utility pole.
Judging by that, engaging in close quarters wasn't ideal. Win or lose, it put him at a disadvantage.
He wasn't confident in close combat anyway. Even as one of Korea's four peerless masters, he didn't claim fourth place for nothing.
There were plenty of fist fighters in the martial world, but only Heo Pung-gae was crazy enough to face blades bare-handed in real combat. For good reason—no sane person would.
Others might think he casually blocked blades with his fists, but it took intense focus.
Especially against a 100-billion expert. No room for carelessness if he didn't want to get wrecked.
He didn't show it. A true master always looked relaxed. He kept his usual expression and stance.
Hands still in his pockets, eyes half-lidded like he was sleepy, Heo Pung-gae gazed drowsily at the approaching martial artists.
They closed in and charged.
Only then did Heo Pung-gae pull out a BB bullet from his pocket. Who first? The biggest threat, Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman?
Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman yelled as he charged,
"Take off the gloves!"
Confident against Flicking Finger Skill without gloves? Better leave him for now.
Thwip. The first shot fired.
"Urk..."
Low-level fighters' reflexes were no better than an average person's.
In the already dim light, the charging martial artist couldn't block or even react to the BB bullet.
As he clutched his chest, knees buckling, Heo Pung-gae fired in rapid succession. Thwip, thwip, thwip.
By the time he'd acupoint-struck four, the enemies were just five meters away.
Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman bellowed from point-blank,
"Gloves—take 'em off!"
He swung his sword but hesitated.
His target had vanished.
Heo Pung-gae leaped with one foot. Thwip. His soaring body didn't come down.
"Wha..."
The gathered martial artists stared blankly up at Heo Pung-gae perched atop the 12-meter utility pole.
Like dogs chasing a chicken, left staring at the roof. No flea could jump ten meters—how was this possible?
Heo Pung-gae didn't explain he'd fired his fishing line to hook the power lines and swung up. He let them imagine. Let the impossible mystery break their will.
But Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman's freakish determination didn't waver.
"Can't catch that bastard? Grab the rest!"
Of course—their goal wasn't to take down the peerless master.
They charged toward the car Kim Ji-yong was supposedly in.
Something blocked their path.
From the pole, Heo Pung-gae tossed something.
A rustling cascade fell. But no one could tell what it was.
The martial artists kept running until one felt something snag his arm.
Like thread...
Electricity surged along whatever had touched his arm.
He convulsed, foam dripping from his mouth.
The man touching the line stiffened and collapsed. When it happened three more times in a row, they halted.
They frantically scanned around and belatedly spotted it.
"Thread?"
Fishing line, precisely. Nearly invisible in the dark, lines draped from the 12-meter pole like a spiderweb.
Someone shouted in protest,
"Poison on the threads?"
Heo Pung-gae raised his index finger instead of answering.
Everyone gasped at the lightning crackling from its tip. There was the peerless master's magic.
"Come down!"
Only Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman hadn't lost his nerve. He bellowed,
"Come down and fight your best, you punk!"
Heo Pung-gae gazed down vacantly. Then he finally spoke.
"This is my best. You telling me not to?"
"If it's your best, ditch those damn gloves first!"
Heo Pung-gae had no intention of obliging. After six years of training, his Flicking Finger Skill's projectile speed had surged. Without gloves, someone could really get hurt.
So with gloves still on, he focused his left hand on the thirteen fishing lines connected to it.
The martial artists swung their weapons to sever the lines blocking them, but it was useless. Not fixed anywhere, the lines draped loosely on the ground. They yielded to force, sliding back without snapping, then returning.
Meanwhile, Heo Pung-gae's right hand wasn't idle.
From the pole, he kept firing Flicking Finger Skill shots, targeting those tangled in lines or detouring wide. Thwip—one down each time. At this rate, they'd all drop without surprise.
Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman couldn't stand it. What suffocating nonsense was this?
When his master suggested fighting this guy supposedly stronger than Invincible BB Bullet, Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman hadn't hoped for victory. Just a good fight. Proof he'd improved since his humiliating loss.
He swung desperately. His sharp blade and sharper swordsmanship should've cut the wriggling lines, but Heo Pung-gae didn't allow it.
As Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman slashed toward a line, Heo Pung-gae yanked it just before contact.
A deflection technique—even if the blade grazed, the line slid away unscathed.
Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman's impassive face was beet red.
"Come down!"
He roared, apparently done caring about threads or shocks.
Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman reached out with his free left hand. It grabbed a line. He yanked hard.
"Come... down!"
Heo Pung-gae sent current through the line he'd grabbed, but the pull dragged him down anyway.
Heo Pung-gae landed lightly on the ground.
And in that instant, Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman swung.
A true 100-billion strike, with sound chasing the blade.
Heo Pung-gae hadn't dodged by sight—he'd moved the moment the man's shoulder twitched.
Glancing down, the ground was sliced where the blade hadn't even touched.
Feeling a chill, Heo Pung-gae eyed his foe. Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman, his swing whiffing into empty air, muttered in frustration.
"You... bastard..."
Blood trickled from his mouth. Lips bitten to endure the shock? But pain could be borne—nerve paralysis, not.
He tried to swing again, but his numbed body crumpled.
Everyone stared at the fallen Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman and Heo Pung-gae standing before him.
With Heo Pung-gae down, the lines no longer blocked, but no one dared attack.
A wooden-sword martial artist asked,
"Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman, he's not... dead, is he?"
Heo Pung-gae checked his pulse and replied,
"He's fine. If you're worried, take him to a hospital."
The martial artists exchanged glances, then decided to do just that.
"Thank you for showing mercy! We'll..."
Two bowed to Heo Pung-gae, then loaded Gangnam's Greatest Swordsman into a car.
Mission or not, a injured 100-billion expert was too much to handle. Even for the Martial Alliance—what if that precious body got ruined? How would they compensate?
Even after those two left for the hospital, plenty remained, but none dared charge.
They backed away stealthily.
Heo Pung-gae got back in the car. Yi Pung yelled out the window from the driver's seat,
"Fight's over—we're going! Don't follow!"
The car started moving again. Turning the wheel, Yi Pung grumbled,
"That moron—wasted his price tag... They following?"
Yi Do-hyeok checked the side mirror and said,
"Yeah, they are."
"Figures—they'll stick like glue to avoid heat later. Not like they can do anything if they catch up."