Chapter 30. The Reason for Fighting (5)
Shinmo's eyes widened.
‘Amazing!’
He wondered if what he was seeing was real. He felt like pinching himself.
‘Such spirit…?!’
Yeon Hojeong’s attacks—a total of three.
Each and every one of those attacks was imbued with an immense, invisible spirit.
It was pure giback (spirit). Not bloodlust, not even fighting spirit (鬪志/ Tu Zhi) – something else entirely. It was akin to a military spirit (軍氣/ Jun Qi), the kind you'd feel watching a horde of ten thousand soldiers charging across a battlefield.
Yeon Hojeong’s strikes, each one was imbued with overwhelming presence. Each blow, even if it looked the same, carried a different weight.
“What gives? I thought he was supposed to be 'Lightning Strike'?”
“Why's he freaking out?”
“He was talking a big game, but Chuseong's not looking so hot now, is he?”
Some of the junior disciples muttered.
‘No wonder.’
To them, Chuseong’s reaction would have seemed ridiculous. They probably thought he was blocking what he could dodge, and scrambling away from what he could block.
But Shinmo knew.
‘He must be overwhelmed.’
If you felt that kind of giback that close, you'd be scared stiff. That's why he's choking, unable to show what he's really capable of.
‘If I were Chuseong…?’
It was then.
“Whoa, incredible!”
Shinmo turned his head to the side.
Yeon Jipyeong was staring at Yeon Hojeong, mesmerized.
“Holy crap... how can he have that kind of gi?!”
Shinmo’s eyes flashed.
Yang Heum cocked his head. “You mean gi?”
“What?! D-didn't you feel it?”
“...Huh?”
“The gi Big Brother just unleashed! I mean, I don't know if gi is even the right word... but you're saying you didn't feel that?”
Yang Heum looked bewildered. Not only him, but everyone in the Chang'eung group had expressions of incomprehension, just like Yang Heum.
Shinmo was startled.
“You actually felt it?”
“Uh, yeah! Of course! How could you not feel that? It was insane... an unbelievably huge gi!”
Most people wouldn't feel it.
Shinmo was as surprised by Yeon Jipyeong as he was by Yeon Hojeong.
‘He felt that? With his level of internal energy?’
Yeon Jipyeong's talent was legendary, even for the Yeon family.
But he's still just fifteen. He hasn't even begun to peak, let alone truly master any martial arts.
How could a kid like that feel the First Master's giback from all the way over here?
‘Good heavens….’
How incredibly sensitive must he be to pick up on that kind of military gi (軍氣/ Jun Qi) that even a master like him could barely sense?
Shinmo looked back and forth between Yeon Jipyeong and Yeon Hojeong.
‘Both of those brothers are freaks of nature.’
Yeon Hojeong. A martial artist whose giback could even make Shinmo, the Gwangpung Sword, a master of the sword (劍道/ Jian Dao), feel fear.
And a fifteen-year-old prodigy who could sense that kind of giback like it was nothing, something only top-tier masters could do.
Shinmo let out a dry chuckle.
“……The Yeon family's future is looking pretty damn bright.”
“Yes?”
“Ah, no, it’s nothing.”
Shinmo, erasing his thoughts, turned his gaze back to the training grounds.
The real fight was about to begin.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Spear and sword clashed, ringing out with a harsh, metallic clang.
‘What?!’
His sword arm went numb. Normally, he'd follow up right away, but that split-second delay kept him from executing a feint.
And Yeon Hojeong didn't miss a beat.
Whoosh! Shing! Shing!
Chuseong blocked sixteen spear thrusts with a flurry of wild sword strikes – nan-geom (亂劍/ Luan Jian).
Same thing. The force traveling up the blade shook him all the way to his shoulder.
‘What kind of strength is this?!’
Claaang!
His powerful downward slash bounced right back.
He'd deflected the spear shaft with his wrist, but the force was so great that his sword recoiled.
This wasn't about internal energy—quantity or quality. The guy was just born strong, plain and simple. It was hard to believe that kind of power came from such a lean frame.
Yeon Hojeong’s attacks continued.
Papat! Papat! Pang!
The spear thrusts, ripping through the air, were as vicious as a viper's strike.
It was an all-out attack, leaving no room for dodging or counterattacking. Chuseong instinctively fell back on his sword forms.
Clang! Clang! Ting! Kaang!
Spear and sword clashed, the chilling sound of metal on metal echoing around them.
The sound told the story. One clean hit, and it was over.
The clash of steel made it clear: this was no friendly spar.
The atmosphere on the training grounds instantly turned deadly serious.
Pabababak! Clang!
They moved and struck, giving no ground, leaving no openings.
The junior disciples who'd been doubting Chuseong were now as white as sheets.
“This is insane!”
“Someone's going to get seriously messed up!”
“Forget messed up... someone's going to die!”
But nobody moved to stop them. They couldn't. The ringing clash of steel, and the deadly intent behind it, held the entire outer area captive.
A one-on-one showdown, no interference allowed. It was like something out of the Three Kingdoms period, two ancient generals locked in a duel to the death.
Crack!
The spearhead slammed into the ground.
Aimed at his ankle, a crippling blow. If Chuseong hadn't dodged, it would've been over in three moves.
‘Damn it!’
Chuseong, having dodged left.
Finally, a killer instinct sparked in his eyes.
‘This little brat is really pushing it!’
Yeon Hojeong's eyes narrowed. He caught the flicker of bloodlust from Chuseong.
Whoo-oong.
Byukra-Jingyeol surged.
Blue light flickered in his eyes, and thick veins throbbed on the back of his hand holding the spear shaft.
Just as Chuseong pushed off to close the distance.
Paaaang!
He seized the initiative – one step forward, two spear thrusts. Smooth as water, but the intent behind the spearhead was pure malice.
The timing was too unpredictable to block or dodge. There was only one way out.
“Shit!”
Pat-pat-pat!
Chuseong hit the dirt and rolled.
Yeon Hojeong's eyes glinted.
Thud! Thud!
Yeon Hojeong was relentless. He stayed on Chuseong, driving him back with a barrage of spear thrusts, each one shaking the ground.
Brutal and persistent. Like a predator going in for the kill.
Chuseong was losing it.
He was already seeing red, forced to use that humiliating dodge – the Naryeo Tagwon (Lazy Donkey Roll) – and now he couldn't even get to his feet.
Rage boiled up inside him.
“Uwaaa! You son of a bitch!”
Kwaang!
Chuseong charged, all finesse gone, moving on pure animalistic rage.
Slash!
Maybe he hadn't expected it. The spear ripped across his shoulder, but it wasn't a killing blow.
‘This bastard! It’s my turn!’
Chuseong's face, crimson with shame and fury.
‘Die!’
Flash!
Chuseong's sword lashed out, aimed at Yeon Hojeong's throat.
“Shit! Big Brother!”
“L-look out!”
In that split second, it was life or death.
Kwaaaang!
A deafening boom, and Chuseong went flying back to the center of the training ground.
Chuseong coughed up blood, the force of the blow having damaged his internal organs.
‘W, what?!’
Even Chuseong, on the receiving end, couldn't tell what had hit him.
He scrambled to his feet, and finally saw Yeon Hojeong clearly.
Whoooooosh!
It was surreal.
He couldn't tell if it was an illusion, or if gi could actually take that form.
It wasn’t just Chuseong. Everyone there was watching.
Two semi-transparent hexagonal patterns slowly swirling around Yeon Hojeong’s body.
It was a tortoise shell (龜甲/ Gui Jia) large enough to cover his upper body. Above both shoulders, something long, like a snake or a dragon, was writhing.
It was a mystical sight.
It was bizarre, but somehow, it didn't seem strange or grotesque.
“Hoo.”
With Yeon Hojeong’s breath, the Black Tortoise (玄武/ Xuanwu) writhed.
Chuseong’s face contorted.
“What kind of sorcery (邪術/ Xie Shu) is that now!”
Paaaak!
Chuseong, eyes wild, drew his sword, a green light (綠光/ Lu Guang) blazing around the blade.
It was his ultimate technique, honed to perfection – the Choomyeong Samgeom (追命三劍/ Zhuiming Sanjian). He'd never failed to kill with it.
Yeon Hojeong's eyes flashed with a cold light.
Koong!
He took a step, but it was different from before.
It was much slower and heavier. At the same time, it was soft and natural.
‘……?!’
Chuseong's eyes went wide.
His lightning-fast sword seemed to slow down.
No, it had slowed. The thrust aimed at Yeon Hojeong's heart was now off-target, about to miss completely.
‘What!!’
Whoooosh! Chiiiing!
A biting wind seemed to whip around them.
An illusion of Hyunmu-gi (玄武氣), heralding the arrival of the Black Tortoise, guardian deity of the north and the sea.
That phantom wind wrapped around Yeon Hojeong's spear, etching into it the absolute defense of the Sasinmu (四神武).
The Black Tortoise footwork: Goejubudong (怪柱不動).
Following Goejubudong, the ironclad defense: Bukcheon Sibibyuk (北天十二壁).
Clang! Clang! Clang!
“Keuk!”
Chuseong felt an impact that felt like his wrist would break.
The Choomyeong Samgeom was a linked attack, three strikes targeting three vital points (Sihyeol /死穴). All three were deflected.
Whoooosh!
White smoke rose from the tip of the long spear, cutting through the heavy, dark wind.
Chiiiik!
The smoke curled, lashing out with Hyunmu-gi.
It was the Samjung Gwibyuk (三重龜壁), the three linked moves (連環三招/ Lianhuan Sanzhao) of the Bukcheon Sibibyuk. Barehanded or with a weapon, its power was absolute.
And it wasn't just the Bukcheon Sibibyuk.
All of the Sasinmu (四神武) were like that – invincible, timeless techniques, equally effective with or without weapons.
And that wasn’t all.
The Black Tortoise arts were the pinnacle of defense, but like any martial art, they could be turned to offense in the right hands.
Whoong.
Yeon Hojeong’s footwork was peculiar.
Small, slow steps. But somehow, he was already right in Chuseong's face. Goejubudong.
“You bastard!!”
Paang!
Chuseong wasn't giving up. He swung his sword wildly, trying to hack Yeon Hojeong to pieces.
Tak!
His left hand, which hadn’t been holding the spear shaft until now, grasped the lower part of the spear.
And the attack began.
Crack! Dududuk!
“Kuaaak!”
Chuseong’s wrist was broken.
Nobody saw how it happened. Spear shaft, flat of the blade – nobody could tell.
But that was just the beginning. Yeon Hojeong was just getting started.
Hwaaaak!
The six-foot spear, heavy as the deep sea, sprouted beastly fangs along its blade.
It was the Yasu Changbeop (野獸槍法), the same technique he'd used to push Chuseong back before.
Yeon Hojeong, wielding the savage Yasu Chang infused with Hyunmu-gi. That spearhead held many things, but mercy wasn't one of them.
The terrifying spear became a whirlwind, slashing at Chuseong.
Pabababak!
“Kuaaaak!”
