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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Teottry
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‘He’s good,’ Yeong-do thought, genuinely impressed as he exchanged blows with Mancheon. He didn’t know who Mancheon’s master was, but they had taught him well.
Dog Beating Staff Technique – Lifting the Dog to the Heavens – An upward strike with the staff, lifting the opponent off their feet.
Mancheon’s staff moved with precision, deflecting and blocking Yeong-do’s attacks aimed at his vital points, his heart and throat. He maintained a tight defense, preventing Yeong-do from closing the distance.
His movements weren’t flashy, but they were fundamentally sound and efficient, his defense of his vital points particularly impressive.
Yeong-do’s eyes darted around, assessing the situation, observing Mancheon. His greatest strengths were his quick thinking and his ability to accurately assess his own capabilities.
In the wild, the most crucial skill for survival wasn’t brute strength, powerful jaws, or swift feet, but the ability to judge whether an opponent was stronger or weaker than oneself.
His instincts told him he had the advantage in physical strength, internal energy, and experience. However…
He anticipated the trajectory of Mancheon’s downward strike and dodged to the side. It was a powerful attack, but too straightforward. Too simple. Or so he thought.
Dog Beating Staff Technique – Striking the Dog’s Back – A diagonal strike to the opponent’s back.
Mancheon’s staff technique bridged the gap in their skill levels.
The staff, which had been descending in a straight line like lightning, suddenly shifted its trajectory, moving diagonally like flowing water, aiming for Yeong-do’s neck.
His evasive maneuver had created an opening. He had no choice but to raise his left arm to block, sacrificing his arm to protect his neck.
Crack—!
He gritted his teeth against the searing pain as he deflected the blow, creating distance. He frowned, his eyes fixed on Mancheon’s staff.
His instincts, honed from years of surviving life-or-death situations, screamed danger. This staff technique was different.
It wasn’t a technique of the Nine Orthodox Sects, like Shaolin, Wudang, or Mount Hua, rooted in Buddhist or Daoist principles of yin and yang, or the pursuit of enlightenment.
This was a technique created solely for the purpose of beating something.
He parried the relentless barrage of attacks, coming from all angles, each strike aimed at his weak points, an infuriatingly precise assault.
While the individual blows weren’t particularly powerful, they chipped away at his defenses, steadily shifting the momentum of the fight, like a relentless current eroding the riverbank.
It was a merciless barrage, like a dog being beaten by its handler.
But that didn’t mean Mancheon was strong. He had a critical weakness, a fatal flaw as a martial artist.
Yeong-do smirked, his eyes on Mancheon’s weakened right leg. He executed his hidden footwork technique, exploiting the opening.
The Ghost Shadow Steps.
He moved like a ghost, silently positioning himself for the advantage, a shadow clinging to Mancheon’s blind spot, created by his slow, weakened right leg.
He observed, he analyzed, he exploited. That was the way of the assassin.
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‘Fuck—this guy fights like a dog shit,’ Mancheon thought.
His current situation could be summarized as follows: a wicked demonic sect asshole was poking him repeatedly, shouting, “Finger Gun! Finger Gun!!”, while he gritted his teeth and endured, shouting, “Ugh- Tekkai (Iron Body)!!” In short, he was screwed.
Every time he tried to create distance to utilize the Dog Beating Staff Technique, the assassin was right there, a shadow clinging to his heels. The advantage he had briefly held evaporated like mist.
“What’s wrong? Weren’t you going to kill me?”
Yeong-do, clearly confident of his victory, smirked, his words grating on Mancheon’s nerves.
“Haah-… haah-…”
He wiped the blood trickling down his cheek with his sleeve. He understood the assassin’s arrogance.
The initial even exchange had been a mere prelude. Once the true fight began, Yeong-do had exploited his weakened right leg, relentlessly targeting his blind spot, leaving him battered and bruised.
“Personally, I believe those who fail to fulfill their roles deserve to die. What are your thoughts on the matter?”
“That’s a pretty… fucked up philosophy.”
“Compared to your leg, I’d say it’s perfectly reasonable.”
Yeong-do chuckled at Mancheon’s sharp retort, circling him slowly, like a cat toying with a weakened mouse.
“A martial artist’s role is to be strong. There’s nothing more pathetic than a weak martial artist. And an older brother’s role is to protect his adorable younger sister.”
He reveled in Mancheon’s silent glare, his amber eyes burning with anger, and continued his taunts. He enjoyed toying with his prey before delivering the killing blow. It was a pleasant pastime.
“A crippled weakling who can’t even protect his own sister. Do you even deserve to live?”
Mancheon, deeming the words unworthy of a response, took a deep breath and raised his staff, ignoring the pain, carefully measuring the distance, preparing to strike.
Even battered and bruised, on the verge of collapse, his resolve remained unwavering. He would defeat the demonic sect assassin and save his younger sister.
That was his duty, his role, as Sima Yeonhwa’s older brother, Sima Mancheon.
And his calm demeanor infuriated Yeong-do. His face hardened, and he advanced towards Mancheon, his hand crackling with demonic energy.
“Let’s see how long you can maintain that bravado.”
There was no need to target his blind spot anymore. He was already weakened, his defenses crumbling. He deflected Mancheon’s staff, now moving with a fraction of its initial power, with a swift chop of his hand, snapping it in two.
Crack!
The broken staff spun in the air. Yeong-do mimicked its movement, spinning swiftly,
delivering a spinning kick to the arrogant little wolf’s abdomen.
“Oof-!!”
Mancheon, struck by the energy-infused kick, went flying, his body unable to withstand the impact, like a rag doll struck by a truck.
He crashed through the door behind him, landing outside the storehouse, in a cloud of bean flour.
The Golden Goose Technique.
Mancheon’s eyes gleamed, the gambler’s glint returning.
He hadn’t been trying to attack with his staff. He had been preparing to escape. He had executed the Golden Goose Technique the moment he felt the impact of the kick, propelling himself backwards.
The door, not a wall, behind him had been a calculated risk.
‘…This is my escape route!’
The storehouse, now filled with swirling bean flour from their struggle, was the perfect setting.
The real fight began now.
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“…Hah!” Yeong-do scoffed.
He looked down at Mancheon, who was now crawling away, pissing himself in fear, a stark contrast to his earlier bravado. A trail of liquid followed in his wake.
He had never seen anything so pathetic.
“Such a fitting image for a crippled weakling who can’t even protect his own sister. Why bother with the bravado in the first place?”
Mancheon ignored the mocking laughter and continued to crawl, putting as much distance between himself and the storehouse as possible. He continued to move forward, his weakened leg dragging behind him.
He was simply fulfilling his role, his responsibility.
“Two hundred thousand years ago, humanity hunted mammoths.”
“What?”
Yeong-do frowned at the nonsensical remark.
“With no magic, no aura, no martial arts. They used only stones and wood to bring down monsters five meters tall, weighing twelve tons.”
“Are you insane?”
“Driven by the simple desire for meat, they challenged and conquered beasts hundreds of times stronger than themselves.”
Mancheon’s voice, strong and resolute, belied his pathetic, fleeing form.
“True strength… isn’t found in martial arts or special abilities…”
He continued to speak, his forward momentum unwavering.
“True strength lies in the will to achieve! The resolve to overcome fear! Will and resolve pave the path to victory!!”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Yeong-do glared at Mancheon’s retreating back, demanding an explanation, but Mancheon simply laughed internally.
He couldn’t agree more. He wasn’t even sure what he was saying.
He glanced back, assessing the situation.
He had been creating a distraction, drawing the assassin’s attention with his loud pronouncements, while a trail of oil, leaking from a hidden container, snaked its way towards the storehouse, leading the flames towards their target.
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Yeong-do froze, his eyes fixed on Mancheon’s face, which, as he glanced back, had taken on a lupine quality.
The face of a wolf looking back. The Wolf’s Gaze.
The same face as Sima Yi, the monstrous wolf who had seized control of the realm.
After Sima Yi had orchestrated the downfall of the Wei kingdom and seized power, an elder of the Heavenly Demon Sect had approached him, seeking to forge an alliance and expand the sect’s influence.
The details of their conversation were lost to history. The only record remaining in the sect’s archives was a single, chilling warning from the elder, who had returned with his hair completely white:
“Never show your front or your back to the Wolf’s Gaze.”
A shiver ran down his spine. His instincts screamed danger.
He didn’t know what Mancheon had planned, but he knew he had to escape. But just as he turned to flee, an invisible force slammed into him, crushing him, forcing him to his knees.
Fudo Myo-o Steps – Suppression.
Mancheon, who had been waiting for this moment, rose unsteadily to his feet and executed the technique, the energy he had been holding back erupting outwards, planting his foot firmly on the ground with the conviction to stop time itself.
The potent, suppressed energy of Fudo Myo-o surged, a raging torrent, crushing the demon beneath its heel.
“Aaah-… wh-what—?!”
He looked at the assassin, his eyes wide with confusion, unable to comprehend what had just happened, and spoke in a deceptively gentle tone.
“I will defeat you and protect my younger sister. That’s all there is to it.”
He glanced at the flames creeping through the broken doorway and into the storehouse, and steeled his resolve. He smiled, a carefree, confident smile, and delivered the iconic line.
“Are you ready? Cause I’m ready.”
The flames reached the bean flour that filled the storehouse. The ensuing explosion drowned out all other sounds, the victor’s cheers and the demon’s screams lost in the roar.
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Booom!
