Chapter 518

The age-old debate among the people of the Central Plain rages: which is stronger, a large army or a handful of elite masters?

There’s that saying about three tackling one, right? It’s not just because the people here have an odd obsession with the number three, splitting everything into upper, middle, and lower, like they’re cutting a cake.

It’s just that four can beat one.

The “all-direction success technique,” overwhelming from all sides, is fundamentally the most powerful means of attack.

So, two against one? Gonna be tough.

But four against one? Easy win.

Even if three mid-tier guys jump at the same time, the one stuck in defense is gonna be a bit exposed. So three is deemed enough to stand a chance.

And that’s where the argument kicks off.

But what if we lower the level of three and just add numbers? Does that become favorable or unfavorable?

When tempers flare, it can lead to some serious bickering, from hair-pulling to slapping fights.

On the attackers’ side, the pro-argument goes:

“Of course, four beats three, five beats four, and six beats five! Even if their skills dip a bit, being overwhelmed on all sides is like being a fish trapped in a net. Honestly, the back is the weakest spot for any warrior! With one less hand to fight the front and sides, how’s a warrior supposed to guard their backside? An attack on that unprotected spot can still be deadly, no matter how low-rank!”

On the defenders’ side:

“Look at that fool who doesn’t know a thing about martial arts, talking nonsense about being surrounded? It’s utter nonsense! Once a low-skilled fighter joins, it doesn’t block all sides. With three top-tier fighters instead of one, if they’re all attacking from multiple directions, isn’t one of them gonna end up twiddling their thumbs? Plus, those three top-tier fighters aren’t controlling three directions; they might only cover two, and an absolute master can slice through that weak point with a single blow. They’ll actually end up weaker than three top-tier fighters.”

No one’s hiring commentators here, and they aren’t raking in sponsorships for their wild theories.

Even if they’re considered commentary, nobody’s giving them a platform or letting them take the stage, so from Qing’s perspective, they’re more like ancient vloggers.

The commentators’ eyes are blazing.

“Hah! Two top-tier fighters can each block a hand. Simple math shows that three mid-tiers are obviously more likely to win! Anyone with a working brain should see that!”

“What about this? If you’ve got to catch a tiger with hunting dogs, and you swap one out for a puppy, doesn’t that just make it weaker? Is there anyone here who’s more scared of three tail-wagging mutts than a wolf the size of a calf?”

“Folks! For capturing a single hunting dog, it takes just three puppies! We’ve got a real genius here!”

But honestly, the difference between top-tier and mid-tier isn’t as big as a dog compared to a puppy.

The crowd’s gaze turns towards the elite commentary duo.

If Qing heard, he’d be shaking his head in disbelief.

Because dodging layman logic is often worse than not even trying.

When it comes to verbal skirmishes between two, it’s just about throwing personal insults to win. But in front of an audience, you need to persuade the crowd, not just the opponent.

Anyway.

So who’s really at a disadvantage?

From Qing’s standpoint…

It’s actually favorable.

Qing charges in with the Jangpyeong martial artists.

His left hand spreads elegantly, revealing a long stretch.

“Buddha’s Physical Body!” “Dodge!”

Looks like they’re pretty prepped; the Jangpyeong warriors jumped back and away from the line his left hand traced.

Ding. A sound like a spoon hitting a bell.

With a mischievous grin, Qing shows off his sharp canines glinting in the light.

Fake move.

Hanging a flower on a tree to fool the enemy.

Even the one who slashes with a thrust motions their sword, while the one who startled and flails has already lost.

My skill is less movement. The enemy moves more than I do.

It’s just common sense, hence, one of the tactics from the Great Master Muhak is to use feints and deception.

Creating an opening with a single fake move to break the enemy line is quite a gain.

Qing steps on a downed Jangpyeong warrior, stomping on their pride.

Beneath his feat, he feels the bones squeeze, the sweet sound of a muffled scream escaping.

Deflecting blades with his forearm, Qing steps in one, two, three.

At the end of this straight line stands a Jangpyeong warrior, eyes wide in frozen terror.

You might think they could remain composed at the Life-and-Death Match, but facing an unexpected danger often blinds the mind.

The first instinct a warrior must overcome is their human fear response.

But, really? They parted with a third-rate anime fight and dragged these kids into this?

Qing’s blade flows smoothly forward.

The sword skims past the neck.

With a swift slice, blood bursts forth, spilling all over the ground in a gruesome display.

The whole area turns into a bloody carnival.

The smell of iron fills the air and, oh boy, my appetite is coming back.

It’s said that the Great Sword Masters will eat whenever there’s an opening, huh?

Qing calms the rising bloodlust.

“Hey! That’s just cowardly!”

“What? Me?”

“Slaughtering the weaker ones is the orthodox way? Step up and face me straight on instead!”

“Huh?”

Qing can’t believe his ears.

What are they saying? They’re ganging up like—

Suddenly, Qing’s form splits into eight, charging from every angle.

With a beat late, the nets drop down to cover the space.

Qing’s eight afterimages cross the air, each in different stances.

One, poised, starts to fade, gracefully shifting into its original hue.

And as if to celebrate, the net drops.

In an instant, Qing’s shocked face twists at the weight of the nets.

What the heck? How??

“Kill! Finally caught you! Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Nengpa Mibo is a formation tactic that appears behind the enemy.

Even if it splits into eight, only a few shapes charge straight at the back of the enemy.

If prepped in advance, you can throw a net in place when the time comes.

Qing pulls at the net left and right.

This thick, reinforced net for elite warriors isn’t something any run-of-the-mill force can just snap.

A tearing sound resonates; while the cross and vertical stitch connections strain, the net doesn’t break and quivers.

With a surge of adrenaline, the Jangpyeong masters lift their weapons high, moving closer.

Leading the charge is Toun-gung, swinging down hard enough to split Qing in two.

“Die!”

Qing lifts his hand, the net covering his body acting as both defense and weapon.

The energetic net stretches, absorbing the force of Toun-gung’s blow.

Caught up in the trap, one knee buckles up but—

Despite the crazy force, the net merely quaked as the impact sparked.

Qing’s strength held; the net was strong enough to deflect the energy-infused blade.

More strikes follow.

Qing pivots, interposing the taut net between his arms.

Once more, a foot kicks out, and he extends his elbow, neatly blocking the incoming blade.

With an effect like a cartoon sound effect, the Jangpyeong master bounces off.

Another attack comes from the side, but Qing wags his large butt back while stepping on the net, landing a powerful blow upward.

The taut net ricochets again, sending the sword off course with a resounding “ding.”

By pulling on different net sections, Qing creates tension, turning entanglement into defense.

Huh? Wait a minute? This defense isn’t so bad, is it?

Qing wriggles, poking his arms through the net’s holes.

He’s trying to wear the net like armor but with a sudden press, his head gets forced sideways.

Ah, maybe not this hole.

Both arms get free, but his head is stuck.

Thanks to the agile joints of Yulryu Yeonryeon, Qing can nod even sideways, but for now, everything is tilted.

Balancing on one leg, the other is caught in the net, swinging like a fancy lampshade.

“Don’t slice, poke! Where on earth did you get this tough net, you dullard!”

Toun-gung shouts angrily.

He’s the one who ordered them to bring back the sturdiest stuff, ironically.

“Wait! Hold on!”

As Qing struggles to pull his arms free, the entangled net pulls him, and he hops a bit before surprising one of the masters with a sudden slap.

What are you doing, rushing in with a blade when you’re mid-tier?

With a thwack! The broken blade grazes the owner’s cheek before disappearing.

Before the now-terrified Jangpyeong warrior even regains composure, Qing’s left hand thrusts forward, unleashing a surge of True Energy!

Bell-like sounds resound.

Dense waves of force ripple outward from Qing’s hand, as a Jangpyeong warrior spits out his guts, crashing down.

The booming sound of Qing’s Buddha’s Physical Body echoes loudly.

While the warriors are frozen in shock, the net-wielding monster begins to raise hands in surrender.

Ding ding ding ding ding ding!

Qing can mimic a tune or two. It sounds like the school bell ringing for his vibe.

The Jangpyeong warriors, pointing to their sensitive spots, stare at Qing in disbelief.

What just happened? Did we just hear that?

Ding!

As a golden spirit figure manifests in the air, a gigantic hand casually swats a warrior aside.

With a gentle motion, they’re tossed like a piece of trash, rolling and slamming on the ground.

The Buddha’s Physical Body, Fifth Breath.

The Five Elements Deity.

In the past, that blocked the ultimate path to enlightenment, but today, the Buddha merely spread His palm, akin to a finger before an ant.

“Don’t give them space! The more distance you give, the more dangerous it becomes!”

Toun-gung orders again.

While Qing approaches, performing quick, dazzling feints, the Jangpyeong warriors start to flinch.

In-between, Qing hurriedly rummages around his head, grabbing the net, pulling it down and fitting it snugly on his forehead.

With his head poking through the net and arms stretched out, the long fabric flows down, creating a look akin to a fancy robe draping his body.