As Wang Inhwa unleashed his internal energy, life surged through his gaunt skin, and his eyes brimmed with vitality. His emaciated frame swelled with muscle—a hallmark of advanced external martial arts, just as the masked figure had predicted.
Pop!
Myeong In unleashed another lightning-fast punch, but Wang Inhwa didn’t block. Instead, he stepped forward.
Thud.
The sharp punch struck Wang Inhwa, yet Myeong In staggered back several steps.
“Arhat Qigong?” Myeong In’s eyes gleamed with surprise.
Each time Wang Inhwa was hit, a powerful recoil surged from his body, reminiscent of the Shaolin’s external martial art, Arhat Qigong.
“Take this!” Having absorbed the punch, Wang Inhwa drew his treasured sword and unleashed his sword technique.
Swish.
The Heavenly Tremor Sect’s swordsmanship wasn’t overwhelmingly powerful but was known for its solidity and stability. With no openings in his sword strikes, Myeong In deployed footwork to evade.
Yet Wang Inhwa’s sword moved like a living snake, weaving nimbly to target Myeong In’s body. Myeong In’s eyes flashed, and a fierce wind gathered around his fist.
Whoosh!
Instead of dodging, Myeong In extended both hands, striking with a punch that resembled a transparent spear thrust.
Pop! Pop!
The vibration forced Wang Inhwa back several steps as Myeong In’s powerful punches struck repeatedly.
“Hmph.” Despite the barrage, Wang Inhwa sneered. “Your fists won’t work.”
With a rustling sound, he unleashed another sharp sword strike. Myeong In dodged with footwork while landing punches. After twenty exchanges, Wang Inhwa’s confident expression faltered. Myeong In’s punches vibrated like a bell, shaking the struck areas intensely.
“Ugh.” Wang Inhwa’s face twisted.
No matter how robust his external martial arts, the human body’s organs and blood were delicate. Repeated exposure to such vibrations would cause severe internal injuries.
Thud!
Another strike hit, and blood surged to Wang Inhwa’s throat.
I can’t spit blood. He tried to suppress it with internal energy, but pain throbbed in his chest, and his limbs weakened.
Internal injuries.
“Urgh!” Unable to hold back, Wang Inhwa spat blood and staggered.
Despite his external defenses, his body couldn’t withstand Myeong In’s punches.
“Ugh…” Lowering his head, he admitted, “I’ve lost.”
Myeong In looked down impassively before turning away.
“Raaah!” Cheers erupted from the Blade Tyrant Sect. With their sect leader defeated, the duel had tilted decisively in their favor.
Struggling to stand, Wang Inhwa gazed at the sky. “Is this heaven’s will?”
Only the three corps leaders could face someone like Myeong In. Gwak Cheon, despite his injuries, stepped forward. “Sect Leader, don’t worry. I’ll go.”
“Wait,” a young man interrupted, stepping before Wang Inhwa—Bu Eunseol.
“I’ll take the next fight.”
Wang Inhwa and Gwak Cheon blinked at the sudden appearance. Barely past his twenties, dressed in plain martial robes with a rusty sword on his back, he looked like an ordinary mercenary.
Wang Inhwa sighed deeply. “This duel decides our sect’s fate. How can an outsider fight?”
With a bitter smile, he added, “Return.” He assumed Bu Eunseol was a young mercenary eager to show off.
“He’s not from the Blade Tyrant Sect either,” Bu Eunseol said, pointing at Myeong In.
Wang Inhwa shook his head. “That’s only because Gwan Dokgun is shameless. We won’t use an outsider.”
But Mun Kwang, staggering from treatment, approached. “Sect Leader, let him go.”
“What?”
“He’s the best among the mercenaries—no, his prowess surpasses mine.” Wang Inhwa couldn’t believe it. Even if skilled, Bu Eunseol was, at best, a high-ranking mercenary—insufficient to defeat Myeong In.
“Corps Leader Mun, get a grip. How can we send an outsider for the final duel?” Gwak Cheon shook his head gravely.
Mun Kwang pleaded, “Corps Leader Gwak, trust me. Have I ever spoken nonsense?”
Wang Inhwa and Gwak Cheon exchanged glances, groaning. Mun Kwang was a loyal retainer who’d risked his life for the sect. And with no one likely to defeat Myeong In, the situation was already dire.
“Fine. I permit it,” Wang Inhwa said.
Without a word, Bu Eunseol stepped forward, beckoning Myeong In with a gesture. Myeong In frowned. Such arrogance was typical of those far superior or exceptionally skilled.
“Hmph.” Myeong In snorted, launching the same vibrating punch that had defeated Wang Inhwa.
“White Crack Fist?” Bu Eunseol’s eyes gleamed as he dodged. “No, alternating between Turning Fist and White Crack Fist.”
Though he’d only mastered the first four forms of the Seven Demon Fists, they encompassed the fundamentals of all fist techniques, making him a master of the world’s fist arts.
“You know your fists,” Myeong In sneered.
“I can use them too,” Bu Eunseol replied with a faint smile, lightly extending a fist.
The punch was ordinary, lacking power or variation, but its speed could split lightning, instantly halting Myeong In’s follow-up.
It was the same Turning Fist technique Myeong In had used against Wang Inhwa.
“...!” Myeong In’s eyebrow twitched as Bu Eunseol mimicked his technique on the spot, recognizing him as a fellow fist master. “Hah!” With a shout, Myeong In unleashed dozens of fist shadows, using an extreme White Crack Fist to prevent imitation.
“Naive,” Bu Eunseol said, a thin smile forming.
In a life-or-death duel, emotions were a luxury. One had to exploit the enemy’s weaknesses with precise strikes.
“Lose your calm, and the fight’s over,” Bu Eunseol taunted, stepping back.
Myeong In’s eyes flashed. “Hmph, trickery can’t beat speed!”
Boom! Boom!
His White Crack Fist transformed again, enveloping Bu Eunseol from all sides. No matter how fast he moved, there was no escape.
“But speed can’t beat weight,” Bu Eunseol countered.
A fiery haze rose from his fist as he prepared to unleash the Seven Demon Fists.
Boom.
A light punch shook the ground, erasing Myeong In’s fist shadows. Simultaneously, Bu Eunseol’s punch struck Myeong In’s chest—a masterful Demon Flash technique.
“Ugh.” Myeong In tried to defend, but the force had already hit.
Boom.
Myeong In collapsed on the spot. The moment Bu Eunseol’s punch landed, a subtle force yanked him forward—a feat unique to the Seven Demon Fists, which could freely redirect power.
“Urgh.” Pale and kneeling, Myeong In spat blood. Struggling to rise, he collapsed again, gravely injured by a single punch.
“Hm.” Bu Eunseol looked down, then returned to the Heavenly Tremor Sect’s ranks without a backward glance.
“Raaah!” Cheers erupted from the Heavenly Tremor Sect. They’d won a duel they thought unwinnable.
Tension gripped the Blade Tyrant Sect. The final duel would decide which sect left Sangyang.
“Damn it,” Gwan Dokgun trembled, watching the fight. Bu Eunseol’s prowess was that of a next-generation master, far beyond a mere sect leader vying for regional control.
As he hesitated, the masked figure stepped forward. “I’ll handle him.” Gwan Dokgun’s face lit up. If Myeong In was so skilled, the masked figure’s prowess must be greater.
“You’ll do it?” Unlike most sect leaders who’d refuse out of pride, Gwan Dokgun, shameless as iron, eagerly ushered the masked figure forward. “Please, do your best.”
The masked figure, ignoring Gwan Dokgun, stepped toward Bu Eunseol calmly. “A mercenary,” he said coldly, eyeing him. “With such skill, you can’t be unknown. You’re hiding your identity.”
With a light chuckle, he beckoned.
Bu Eunseol responded instantly, unleashing a fist technique.
Whoosh!
The masked figure’s waist bent as if caught in a typhoon. The Seven Demon Fists were fierce yet subtle, light as wind yet destructive as lightning, encompassing all fist techniques and allowing free redirection of force.
Though Bu Eunseol’s punch seemed frontal, it struck from the side.
“Hmph.” The masked figure, as if anticipating it, dodged with a light twist.
But the force didn’t dissipate, pursuing him like a ghost, targeting his Mingmen acupoint.
“Ho.” The masked figure’s eyes gleamed as he extended a hand.
Pop.
A short shockwave spread, halting Bu Eunseol’s force like a wall.
“...!” Bu Eunseol’s eyebrow rose. For the first time, someone had effortlessly countered the Seven Demon Fists.
Whoosh!
Bu Eunseol struck again, his punch roaring like a cannonball with tripled power. The speed and range left no room for escape.
Snap!
The masked figure thrust out a finger like lightning.
Boom!
Fist met finger, unleashing a massive shockwave. Astonishingly, the masked figure blocked Bu Eunseol’s punch—capable of shattering boulders—with a single finger. A red haze rose from his fingertip, indicating mastery of a unique, powerful claw technique.
“Impressive fist technique,” the masked figure said, narrowing his eyes as if savoring the power. “It seems like a brute external style, but it’s soft like the Wudang’s Cotton Palm.”
Muttering, he bent three fingers like a Shaolin Dragon Claw and closed the distance, slashing.
Slash! Slash!
His fingertips, sharper than sword energy, cut through Bu Eunseol’s hair as it flew upward.
Fast.
Though the Seven Demon Fists were exceptional, Bu Eunseol’s training time was short. The masked figure, likely a decades-long master of claw techniques, executed moves with flawless precision.
Slash! Slash!
His claw technique shifted, weaving through the air like a dragon, enveloping Bu Eunseol.
Unfazed, Bu Eunseol used Swift Beyond Shadow to evade and widen the distance.
If I hadn’t faced Jeong Cheon’s chaotic sword… Having survived a close-quarters bloodbath with the chaotic sword master Jeong Cheon, Bu Eunseol would have been gravely injured by the masked figure’s claws without that experience.
“You’re quick,” the masked figure said coldly. “But once my claws are unleashed, there’s no escape.”
His claw technique, like a red storm, sealed all directions, its immense pressure hindering Bu Eunseol’s movements.
His claws even predict my evasions. As time passed, Bu Eunseol’s body accumulated scratches. The masked figure’s strikes were faster than even Jeong Cheon’s chaotic sword.
He’s strong. Despite the danger, Bu Eunseol’s heart raced with excitement. The masked figure’s skill rivaled Jeong Cheon’s, offering another chance to fight at full strength.
Here goes! Taking a deep breath, Bu Eunseol fiercely summoned his Ban-geuk Energy. Boom!
Raising his internal energy beyond seven stars, his pupils dilated, radiating a strange light. He’d never used more than three stars’ power with the Seven Demon Fists due to their overwhelming strength.
But now, he’d met an opponent worthy of unleashing this ancient fist technique fully.
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