Chapter 30
Chapter 30
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: Heavenly Demon Rana - [1]
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The Patriot Hero harbored a peculiar sense of rivalry toward Invincible BB Bullet, a man he had never even met.
One day, he asked a friend who was active domestically something along these lines.
"I'm an overseas guy, so I don't know much about Korean martial artists, but Invincible BB Bullet's famous even abroad. So, what the hell kind of guy is he? Some say he's a peerless master, others say no—which is it?"
The response was ambiguous.
"Invincible BB Bullet's pretty much peerless master tier, but not quite the real deal, you know? Word is he's fought them plenty of times—out of ten bouts, he ties about seven and loses three."
Not utterly outclassed by peerless masters, but not their equal either.
For the Patriot Hero, that assessment didn't pin down just how strong the guy was. After all, he'd never tangled with Invincible BB Bullet—or any peerless master, for that matter.
So, just how tough were peerless masters? Or Invincible BB Bullet?
This time, the answer went like this.
"Fight Invincible BB Bullet, and you'll think: 'What the hell are these peerless masters that even this crazy monster can't beat?'"
And peerless masters?
"Then scrap with a peerless master, and you'll wonder: 'What in the world is this Invincible BB Bullet who ties with this guy multiple times?'"
Honestly, it bruised his pride. Wasn't that basically saying they were definitely stronger than him?
The Patriot Hero had no real grudge against Invincible BB Bullet, but he'd always been keenly aware of the man's existence.
He also started paying attention to peerless masters, thinking to himself:
What do I have to fear from those clowns? Hands spewing fire and swords blooming with plum fragrance—impressive tricks, sure, but big deal?
They could pull off sorcery-like feats through qi, which proved their bodies brimmed with the stuff. That alone marked them as incredible experts, no doubt. But sheer massive inner power didn't guarantee victory over everything.
Why, hadn't a peerless master charged British line infantry during the Opium War and gotten killed? That showed having tons of inner power or working magic didn't make you invincible. If tech and weapons tipped the scales, even he—sans sorcery—could beat those guys. He was confident of it.
That was his usual mindset. And since he'd vowed that, if the chance ever came, he'd drill a bullet hole right through some smug peerless master's skull, the Patriot Hero jumped into this fight against one without a second thought.
Ideally, he'd clash with her solo first.
So when the call for backup came, he bolted out ahead of everyone.
Dashing full tilt toward the container warehouse, he mulled over the operation.
Pretend to buy guns, snag one right there if possible—or if not, surround and swarm them. Simple plan.
Judging by the frantic radio chatter, things hadn't gone according to script.
Well, with all these numbers piling in, they were probably stalling at least. Now he just had to show up and pitch in.
The Patriot Hero burst into the container warehouse.
And for a moment, he doubted his own eyes.
His allies were gone.
He remembered twenty-four grunts rushing in ahead—yet now, not a soul stood inside. They were all sprawled out, bleeding from wounds here and there.
In the midst of it all, one girl in a suit sat peacefully at the warehouse's center.
What the hell...?
To respond to any call for help instantly, the three experts had positioned themselves near this container. And he'd come sprinting. No fight could've lasted even a full minute.
Which meant she'd dropped them all in under a minute?
Peerless masters didn't have extra hands. No matter how skilled, that was impossible.
A profoundly baffling scene—but the Patriot Hero's body didn't freeze. It reacted even before his brain caught up.
He yanked the gun from his coat pocket and squeezed the trigger.
The whole motion wrapped in 0.3 seconds. The supersonic bullet rocketed straight toward the girl's body...
His own flesh tore open.
"Uh...... uh."
The Patriot Hero blankly looked down. His thigh had a hole punched through it.
Blood pouring out, he still summoned his fighting spirit in that moment. Whether he grasped the situation or not, he tried to fire again.
And the gun in his grip exploded.
A loaded round should've blasted forward, but it didn't.
The explosion defied even a gun nut's understanding. The pistol in his hand went off like a damn grenade.
The Patriot Hero's hand, right up in it, wasn't spared.
"Agh, aaagh!"
His hand was a shredded rag as he rolled on the ground.
About two seconds had passed since he'd entered the container warehouse.
Thus, the next moment, the two experts who rushed in beheld the screaming Patriot Hero and the twenty-four bleeders littering the place—and recoiled in shock.
"What the......"
O Eun-rim's pupils quivered. Heo Pung-gae was rattled too, but he didn't show it.
He spoke in a calm voice.
"Selling guns, huh? Someone fired one?"
Rana, who had been smiling, replied.
"He fired at me. Guns in the sacred martial world? Really?"
"No clue what you're on about, but I wanna treat the wounded first. That cool?"
"Nope."
"C'mon. Let me handle this guy at least—he's in bad shape. I'm too worried to fight properly."
Rana laughed.
"Well, if you put it that way."
Heo Pung-gae knelt by the Patriot Hero. While needling acupoints to ease the pain, he eyed the thigh wound and arched a brow.
Never fired a gun? Bull. Clear bullet hole.
Obviously, asking wouldn't get an answer. He finished treatment silently, propped the man against the wall, then slowly rose.
"All done?"
"Yeah."
Rana stood as well.
"Then come at me."
Rana smiled almost mercifully. Heo Pung-gae tossed his gloves as if signaling a formal duel—
Thwip.
—and sneak-fired a BB bullet from his pocket.
The Flicking Finger Divine Skill, famed in the martial world. Even O Eun-rim, standing behind Heo Pung-gae, couldn't track the projectile with her eyes.
With gloves on, its speed was just a tad faster than a pro fastball? But this was nowhere near that. One glove off, and the velocity spiked like this? Made no sense.
Facing the invisible slug, Rana neither dodged nor swatted.
Her hands traced an eerie pattern. Unfathomable motions, but they didn't look offensive.
Yet the next instant, Heo Pung-gae unmistakably defended. His hand snapped up and snagged... something incoming.
O Eun-rim glanced over. The BB bullet he'd just launched was back in his palm.
Heo Pung-gae's hand throbbed. He muttered under his breath.
"Great Universe Reversal?"
Rana offered no reply. Seemed she wasn't one for chit-chat mid-fight.
As Rana simply smiled, Heo Pung-gae pondered inwardly.
How the hell...?
He replayed the technique. Great Universe Reversal—returning a sword or arrow right back at the sender.
Seen it in novels, sure, but he'd never bought it as real.
Witnessing it firsthand was a shock, but he fought not to show it.
Playing it off like nothing happened, Heo Pung-gae fired another BB from his pocket.
Thwip—it caromed off the ceiling and walls, tracing its infamous, freakish ricochet path in the martial world.
Couldn't return that intact, apparently.
Rana had to shift slightly to evade. The BB smacked the floor and bounced again, resuming its sorcerous trajectory.
"Oh......"
Rana let out something like a gasp of admiration, then flicked her hand like swatting a fly.
The BB inbound on her was caught.
Heo Pung-gae didn't miss the opening as her arm busied with defense.
O Eun-rim lunged in instantly.
A thrust from a 1.6-billion-won body lived up to the hype.
Literal Sword-Body Unity. Her deeply bowed waist merged as one with the blade. She thrust her hips forward, arm extending to the limit. The sword shot out as far and fast as possible.
And Rana pinched it between index and middle finger.
"Uh......"
As O Eun-rim faltered in shock, Heo Pung-gae loosed another BB while charging himself.
Palm brimming with qi—he hurled it at Rana's back.
Couldn't ignore even that one?
Only then did Rana draw her weapon. She gripped the wooden staff at her waist.
Wood Soul, was it? She casually tossed it downward.
It smacked the floor and rebounded, shedding its cumbersome wooden sheath.
A 72cm jagged blade gleamed.
Swordstick indeed. Less a proper weapon, more self-defense ambush tool—but not to underestimate.
Still better than bare hands over here.
Rana swung the swordstick against Heo Pung-gae's palm strike.
That thin, short blade swept the air once—and his advance halted.
Expert moves always served multiple ends at once. Even the BB he'd just fired got blocked in that single slash.
Snick—the BB split clean in half and dropped.
No time to marvel at metal cleaved like butter.
Heo Pung-gae pressed in tight, refusing to yield ground.
He unleashed full Taijiquan. His hands wove water-smooth, flowing arcs, circling Rana.
O Eun-rim on the opposite side wasn't idle either. Despite her inferior skill, she stabbed desperately from afar to contribute.
Rana parried assaults from both flanks with a single blade.
Clang, thwack. One sweep blocked two attacks. She smacked aside O Eun-rim's thrust from the side, then flowed into a counter on Heo Pung-gae.
Heo Pung-gae hastily retracted his palm.
The blade's grazing chill on his skin was unnerving.
Unpleasant trade. He thought: What sword style was that?
Mount Hua swordsmanship? No. European smallsword? Nah. Form unrecognizable.
Dire straits. To pit hands against sword, you needed to read the style and predict. Impossible here.
Still, no quitting—Heo Pung-gae signaled O Eun-rim.
'Simultaneous. Now.'
O Eun-rim read it and synced. Together, they thrust blade and fist at the girl in the middle.
Rana's swordstick whirled in a single spry arc—blocking both sides.
That alone proved its swing speed was spine-chilling. Yet Rana herself showed no frantic motion.
Two hands handling four should've been a whirlwind—but she betrayed no haste. Utterly at ease.
Witnessing it, Heo Pung-gae scrapped close-quarters.
Two-on-one edge wasted. Close combat wasn't his specialty anyway.
He yelled to O Eun-rim.
"Fall back—far!"
Soon as she retreated, Heo Pung-gae vaulted backward too.
Hand in pocket—he hurled something.
The BB smacked the ceiling.
"Hm?"
Rana braced for ricochet, but this BB skipped the trick.
Fishing line threaded through it, metal weight on the other end.
It spun against the ceiling, tangling line around the light fixture.
A single line now spanned the container warehouse.
Heo Pung-gae flung more in rapid succession. Whoosh, whoosh—lines spiderwebbed out with each toss.
The web sliced the room into sections in seconds, lines linking everywhere.
Heo Pung-gae toed the ground softly.
His foot never hit floor. It landed on a line strung to a beam.
Fishing line wasn't sturdy, but peerless lightfoot skill made it forget his weight.
Another leap—foot to a higher line.
Balanced on the aerial wire, hands in pockets, he fired BBs from both.
The twin shots rocketed opposite ways. Unpredictable arcs hunting their mark.