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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Teottry
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He blinked, his mind foggy, his stomach churning. He seemed to have been caught in the explosion and briefly lost consciousness.
‘…Am I alive?’
He cautiously assessed his condition. Thankfully, all his limbs were intact. Crawling away to create distance had been the right decision.
‘Ah, don’t die standing. Live by crawling.’
He wanted to dramatically place his right hand over his heart and declare, “My survival is a victory!”, but this wasn’t the time for such theatrics.
He had only defeated one pursuer. He needed to find Yeonhwa and escape.
He forced himself to his feet, his body swaying unsteadily, and surveyed his surroundings.
Debris from the explosion scattered everywhere, some of it still burning. The storehouse blazed, spewing thick, black smoke. The nameless assassin was probably roasting inside like a charred marshmallow.
He wouldn’t have been able to defeat that assassin in a fair fight.
He might not know how to make soap, but he knew how to create a dust explosion. He was grateful for his past life’s obsession with superpower battle manga; otherwise, he might be the one burning right now.
He sighed, turning away from the burning storehouse. There was no time for sentimentality.
The enemy was dead, and he was alive. That was the end of it.
Or so he thought, foolishly believing the matter was settled. But this was the martial world.
“Haah… haah… Stop… right… there…”
And martial artists were those who pursued martial prowess. In the end, it was pure skill, not tricks or schemes, that determined the victor.
He froze at the low, guttural growl, like that of a wounded beast. He slowly turned, his body reacting instinctively to the unexpected sound.
A figure emerged from the flames, stumbling towards him.
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Yeong-do glared at Mancheon, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
If it weren’t for his robes, woven from the silk of the Heavenly Silkworm, a creature bred by the Heavenly Demon Sect, he would be dead, consumed by the explosion.
Half his face was burned, his body battered and bruised beyond recognition, but he was still alive.
He still had a chance to avenge his humiliation, to atone for his mistake of underestimating his opponent.
“Resolve… yes… I admit it. I… lacked resolve.”
He sliced his left wrist with his demonic energy-infused right hand, using his internal energy to spray the blood onto the flames clinging to his body, extinguishing them.
He held out his bleeding wrist, a grim testament to his renewed resolve, his burning gaze fixed on Mancheon.
“This… is a mark of my respect for you, and my vow… to never underestimate you again.”
Drops of blood dripped from his wrist, falling like grains of sand in an hourglass. His scarred, burned, blood-splattered face contorted in a grimace of determination.
“I will kill you before I bleed to death.”
This was no longer a game. He would not be careless again. His instincts screamed danger. Mancheon was no mere pup.
He was a powerful martial artist, a formidable opponent who would fight to the death.
He took a step forward with his left foot and left arm, measuring the distance, his right arm raised, ready to strike. He staked his life, and the honor of the Heavenly Demon Sect, on this fight.
“Yeong-do, first-class assassin of the Black Assassination Unit of the Heavenly Demon Sect.”
A wave of heat washed over Mancheon, carried by the wind from the burning storehouse at Yeong-do’s back.
He assumed a ready stance, drawing upon his internal energy. He would defeat this enemy and protect his younger sister. Nothing had changed. He was once again entering a life-or-death battle.
“Sima Mancheon, disciple of The Son of the Kong (Confucius) and Fudo Myo-o.”
He spoke the forbidden name of his master, a vow to silence the assassin permanently.
The air between them crackled with tension.
There were no insults, no taunts. They simply observed each other, closing the distance, until they stood within striking range.
Their bodies and internal energy reserves were depleted. They advanced, fueled only by willpower. They each had a single move left.
A single blow would decide the victor.
Yeong-do struck first. The reason was simple: his reach was greater. His demonic energy-infused arm shot out like an arrow, aimed at Mancheon’s throat.
The Black Killing Hidden Hand.
A single inch (3cm) was all he needed to sever his opponent’s carotid artery and end his life.
But Mancheon didn’t flinch. He moved towards the attack, closing the distance even further.
If the enemy was willing to gamble on a single inch, he would gamble on a single step.
It was his first time using the technique in actual combat. But ironically, the life-or-death situation cleared his mind of all distractions, focusing his concentration, allowing him to activate the Immovable Heart Method instinctively.
Fudo Myo-o Steps – Vision.
The Wisdom King’s energy filled his eyes, and the world slowed down. He took a single step, the slowest and yet the fastest step he had ever taken.
He felt a sharp pain in his neck, blood gushing from the wound. It was a shallow cut, a graze. Ignoring the pain, he clenched his fist and lunged into the assassin’s embrace.
…And then, his right leg buckled. He stumbled, losing his balance. And he thought—
‘I… don’t fucking care!!’
He was close enough. Using the momentum of his fall, he punched Yeong-do in the chest, putting all his weight, all his strength, into the blow.
The Wisdom King Fist, a secret technique of Esoteric Buddhism, was, despite its grand name, a surprisingly simple technique.
The energy of Fudo Myo-o was heavy. And what would happen if one further amplified the weight of a fist already infused with such heavy energy? That was the absurdly simple principle behind the technique.
By shifting one’s center of gravity and channeling all their weight into the punch, one could deliver a devastating blow. That was the Wisdom King Fist.
And… in this moment, a small miracle occurred, a confluence of the energy of Fudo Myo-o flowing through Mancheon’s body and the momentum of his fall, channeling all his weight into his fist.
The Wisdom King Fist.
Yeong-do’s instincts screamed danger. His body reacted before his mind could process the threat, raising his left arm to block. But it was too late.
Crack—!!
His left arm, already fractured from the earlier exchange with the Dog Beating Staff Technique, shattered under the immense weight of the blow, his hand twisting grotesquely as it was driven back into his chest.
“GAAAAAH-!!”
He roared, desperately trying to stop the fist, but it was futile. The force of the blow, a thousand pounds of pressure, crushed his ribs, reaching his heart, shattering it.
Yeong-do’s body, unable to withstand the impact, went flying, crashing to the ground. Mancheon, too, lost his balance and fell.
Though his face slammed into the dirt, Mancheon quickly pushed himself back up, preparing for the next attack.
But Yeong-do didn’t move.
His chest was caved in, his eyes wide and unseeing, blood trickling from his lips. He was clearly incapacitated.
He watched for a few more moments, but Yeong-do’s chest remained still. He was dead.
“Haah… haah!”
He looked up at the sky, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his heart pounding in his chest. Exhaustion washed over him.
But… he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t rest.
He recalled Muk-gang’s words. He thought of Yeonhwa. Finally, he turned away from the burning storehouse and the assassin’s corpse and forced himself forward.
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Yeonhwa, who had emerged from her hiding place at the sound of the explosion, her heart pounding with worry for Mancheon, gasped at the sight that greeted her.
“Saoshyant.”
Any other Zoroastrian, seeing a battered, bruised cripple, would have cried sacrilege, but she didn’t care what others thought.
His unwavering resolve, his willingness to face the flames and walk through fire, convinced her that he was the Saoshyant, the hero of prophecy, returned.
‘My older brother… the Saoshyant?’
Her mind reeled. As Sima Yeonhwa, the monster of the Zoroastrian cult, she was destined to set the world ablaze, a sacrifice for the advent of the Saoshyant, destined to be slain by the hero’s hand.
And a hero’s role was to slay monsters, not to fight for them, to be battered and bruised, to push himself to the brink of death for their sake.
Her heart ached at the sight of his injuries. The realization that her beloved older brother was the Saoshyant filled her with confusion. His very existence was a paradox.
“Why… why would you go so far to protect me?”
She asked the question she had kept hidden in her heart, her voice trembling, tears welling up in her red eyes.
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What was the ideal response of an older brother when his younger sister, emerging from her hiding place, asked him why he had been so kind to her?
There were many possible answers, but seeing the tears welling up in Yeonhwa’s beautiful eyes, only one answer came to mind. He acted instinctively.
He pulled her into a tight embrace. He answered her foolish question honestly, his voice a soft whisper.
“Because I care about you.”
He wouldn’t have gone through all this if he didn’t.
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You drop your Crown KING!!!👑
