Chapter 512

Three supreme martial artists who don’t quite fit together.

Yeah, it’s better than just one transformation.

Qing lightly shook off his nervousness.

To put it nicely, there was a chance Qing would win.

He ambushed without warning, used his stunning looks to catch them off guard, clouded their minds with sweet talk, and when facing many opponents, he dove in and used them as shields and so on.

What if we don’t sweeten it up?

He’d just be a dirty, sneaky fighter.

But this time, it’s an honorable duel.

The warriors and spectators might think differently, but at least for Qing, it was that way.

Even if he borrowed the might of soldiers?

It was more like using a bunch of scrubs to filter out the real fighters; what good is an army of a thousand against those who would fight to the death?

If it came to actual brawling, soldiers were useless, and the armored soldiers on the watchtowers were just decorations. There’s no way they could shoot arrows with so many spectators around.

This was a fight where masters switched places unpredictably.

Who knows who would get hit if someone tried to fire at them?

In the Central Plains, you had the Hu Clan; in the Western Regions, the Tel Clan; and from Qing’s hometown, you had the Go Clan. It was like they had their own mythical archers.

Besides, while Qing usually fought in wide open spaces, this duel ground couldn’t exactly be called spacious.

If he babbled nonsense in front of all these people, word would spread that “Cheonhwa-geom’s mouth was dirtier than a sewage ditch.”

So this was indeed a fair fight.

Qing, with his sword lowered, looked at the three seekers of revenge.

Then, the tallest swordsman among them spoke up.

“I am Dan Hwa-cheol of Wu Sun-hyun, and my brother is Dan Hwa-rak. My skin is dark, my lips thick, and I’m a fierce-looking thirty-three-year-old guy with a slightly smaller right eye. Do you remember me?”

Lady, why do I suddenly think of bread?

But Qing held back.

Not something you say in front of everyone, right?

So instead, he answered,

“Was he a righteous person?”

At that, Dan Hwa-cheol grinned.

“No. But it’ll be enough reason to share a life-and-death match with you.”

“Is that so?”

Qing glanced at the remaining ones.

One swordsman and one spearman holding a dagger.

The rest were also telling their ties.

The swordsman seeking revenge for a grudge.

And the spearman looking for vengeance for his disciple.

And then, silence.

The seekers of revenge took cautious steps as they halted outside the line for combat.

Their attitude was extremely prudent.

They were definitely not underestimating Qing, and if left as is, this standoff could drag on forever.

Qing took a deep breath.

For a martial artist, breath is paramount.

When he inhaled, his lungs expanded, filling him with vitality; when he exhaled, he naturally became vulnerable.

So this was a sort of provocation.

Right when Qing completely exhaled and converted that to drive, they’d all rush in to attack.

Qing slowly began inhaling and then started to exhale again.

And just at that moment when Qing expelled all his breath—

“Barbarian punk! What are you doing?!”

A suddenly booming voice echoed.

The tone was fleshy and mashy; it was a familiar voice for Qing, one he’d heard countless times, that of the infamous fatty Pobidon.

“I said it! I won’t forgive those who pushed me away, especially if they lost their parents! You pig-like brat, I remember the feeling of the fat I touched on my back!”

The strange monk’s bizarre cries followed.

The skinniest guy in the spot kept reaching for the largest one to ambush.

Fat hands and bellies completely filled the space with bloody shadows.

“Great Handprint! That’s Miljong Great Handprint!”

“Indeed, Strange Monk! A master of the Westland Martial World!”

Those with knowledge hurriedly narrated the first sudden scuffle from the audience.

Smack, smack, the sound of flesh being struck rang out loudly.

“That’s ‘Yukposam’—a martial technique! It’s not just flesh; it’s like armor protecting the body. It can seriously rival the Diamond Indestructible Skill for self-defense!”

“Although it has the side effect of needing to put on weight, I’ve heard he can’t even wipe his own back!”

The commentary continued.

At this, Pobidon was furious.

“This crazy barbarian punk thinks he can unleash the Great Handprint! And I didn’t push anyone! And you say I can’t wipe my back? Nonsense!”

“Don’t try to make me laugh! You’re the only one here with a sizable load! Plus, you should keep clean! No wonder you’re reeking of it!”

“Crazy nut! No! I just breathed! I’m so skinny I couldn’t push anyone!”

The narrators all raised their voices in unison.

“Who could push a master of transformation!? But if it was done without malice while breathing, there would be no intent, and even a master might fall victim!”

“No matter how skilled one is, they can’t escape their weight! The technique known as ‘Cheongeuncho’ itself overcomes weight to exert a force of a thousand pounds, it does not actually increase mass!”

“No way! How then do you explain the movements of a master falling from the sky? ‘Cheongeuncho’ uses inner strength to momentarily increase one’s weight—a sublime technique!”

“What’s this, a fool pretending they know what they’re talking about over there!?”

“You’re the fool spewing nonsense about martial arts and thinking you can still raise your voice!”

“What, what!? You little brat, did you just say that?”

On one side, the skinny and the fat were bickering away, while on the other side, scholars engrossed in commentary were grabbing each other’s collars.

What a total disaster.

Just then, Qing frowned at the scene.

Suddenly, the rush of air brushed against his skin.

It felt like a massive weight was pushing through the atmosphere as it approached.

A sensation built from experience; the power of the Awakening Skill.

Bang! Sparks flew before Qing’s eyes.

The golden-hued Qi and white Qi collided, scattering fiery sparks everywhere.

Qing’s body was pushed back forcefully, but his innate strength kept him rooted like a statue, tracing a short line on the hardened floor.

Cowardly punks, ambushing like this?

If a fight broke out somewhere else, at least it wouldn’t be uncommon for us to gather together and enjoy the show until it calmed down!

Thoughts from a master of ambush flashed in his mind.

Two swords. One spear.

Qing kept retreating, swinging his arms.

Four different-colored starlights traced their paths, colliding and creating a cacophony of clanging metal.

Nengpa Mibo? Nah, I can handle this.

If things got too dicey, I could just use the shadow clone technique Nengpa Mibo—which means my defensive measures are nowhere near adequate!

I can’t let that happen.

Qing gritted his teeth and blocked the attacks as he pushed and countered.

The moonlight sword’s blade deeply bumped against Dan Hwa-cheol’s long sword.

Qing attempted to shake it off, but the two swords intertwined and spun like they were glued together with a stubborn attack.

Then, swish—a long line cutting through the air.

Qing urgently brought his left palm behind his right ear.

The swordsman to his right aimed for his neck, and their blade clashed with a bang! A thunderous noise rang out right near Qing’s ear.

Beeep! A ringing filled his ears.

But before he could even think about it, the spearman targeted Qing’s left side with a jab!

Qing thrust his hips forward with all his strength.

His spine bent like a bow beyond that of mere human flexibility through the elegance of Yulryu Yeonryeon.

A fierce gust of wind swept through the deep ridges behind his waist.

In an instant—bang! Sparks flew from Qing’s head.

Three opponents, three weapons, but the person had only two hands.

A fist deeply embedded into Qing’s abdomen, seeking for a sweet spot.

Huff, his chest tightened, and air burst out.

But the expressions of the fist’s owner—Dan Hwa-cheol—were not so promising.

It felt as if he’d struck an iron wall instead of a person. He instantly realized he couldn’t inflict damage because the pressure had been blocked.

The self-defense techniques, honed through bitter cold training, wouldn’t betray their owner.

Just that…it hurt a lot.

In that moment, the spearman roughly snatched Qing’s hair and wrapped it around his hand.

With pain in his abdomen and his hair pulled, Qing gritted his teeth and tightened his neck.

Qing’s power was unnatural.

Not exactly hulking with muscle like a certain chubby bird from House Pang, it was something unimaginable until one experienced it firsthand.

When Qing forcefully tugged his head free, the firmly gripped spearman fell out of balance and was pulled forward.

At that moment, their eyes locked!

For a brief moment, the swordsman’s startled glance; he immediately pulled back his sword to swing—swish!

The swordsman cleaved vertically through Qing.

With an ethereal shimmer, Qing seemed to split into eight.

The swordsman instinctively scanned around, feeling the sensation of cutting through the void; the forms of Cheonhwa-geom drew shimmering afterimages in every direction.

With arms outstretched, Qing flew, diving into the water and making wild, beast-like strides while galloping and making various shapes.

Suddenly, his gaze locked with the translucent face of the spearman, who was being dragged down by Qing’s momentum.

What’s going on over there?

I don’t know, save me.

Among them, someone who had risen from the ground now regained color.

Then a jolt of pain like a giant needle plunged into his brain.

Qing gasped; the backlash from forcing out techniques beyond what should be done for a supreme level hits hard.

Even though it was manageable when used alone, the surge had grown because the spearman was being dragged along.

Just as Qing was buckling from the fierce pain, unable to squeeze out even a breath, the spearman, driven by inertia, crashed right into Qing’s back.

Qing was violently shoved, rolling roughly on the floor.

And then he sprang up, hurriedly shoving his hair into the collar of his garment.

How dare they tug on my hair?

Am I some kind of girl? I ought to rip those off! No, I’ll definitely rip them off.

Born a man, and to die like a woman.

Qing glared sternly at the spearman, still rolling on the floor, and then stopped.

While manufacturing a castration technique might be fun, the idea of life beyond the ice walls seemed even more delightful.

Even if there were three opponents, I somehow managed to hold my ground; what could I do against just two?

Qing gingerly rubbed his sore abdomen.

Sure, it’ll bruise, but that’s just skin bursting from pressure; as I flex my abs hidden underneath, they seem alright and resilient.

With this much, I can manage, right?

The three aren’t working together, after all.

What if next time, some dark influential dude with the name “Evil” comes along to seek revenge for his sworn brother?

Feeling oddly, Qing cast his sword aside.

Because if they open up more generously, they might just try to stop with gratitude or something.

The spearman, who had rolled like a dirtbag, sprang back up and dashed back towards revenge cohorts, assuredly joining shoulders with them.

“Aah! Oh dear, Cheonhwa-geom let slip the opportunity! You may all find this strange. But originally, martial arts are meant to deal with those standing on the ground. There’s no technique to slay someone who’s down!”

“Right. Moreover, Cheonhwa-geom isn’t from a righteous sect, is it? Look at this declaration of one wanting to confront three at once for revenge. Insisting to seek fairness with his ability, it’s likely not easy attacking someone lying down.”

“Certainly, that would be the case!” “So it was like that!”

Only then did the comments drift into at least Qing’s ears.

It seemed the skinny and the fat were focused entirely on him, perhaps the scholars who had been grappling were too.

Yet, the commentary was peculiarly biased.

For indeed, unless there’s a connection with the person, people generally cheer for the weak against the strong, the few against the many, the disadvantaged against the advantageous.

And here we have three men and one beautiful warrior.

Naturally, the men would cheer for the beauty, while the women inevitably supported the female martial artist.

Qing was just trying to engage in a life-and-death match with appropriately placed opponents.

But unintentionally, his reputation was soaring sky-high.

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