Jang Ilso wiped the blood from his lips with his sleeve.
Beok Jeong's gaze upon him was infinitely heavy.
"That's enough, Tyrant."
The voice was as heavy as the gaze, but in Jang Ilso's eyes, there was only a light disdain and mocking amusement as he looked at Beok Jeong.
"Hmm, words are probably unnecessary anyway."
From the moment they faced each other, there was only one thing left.
Regardless of the intentions or hidden meanings behind their actions, the outcome would be the same.
If Beok Jeong killed Jang Ilso, he would be hailed as a hero who prevented chaos in the Martial Arts World. Conversely, if Jang Ilso killed Beok Jeong, he would be evaluated as a ruthless leader of an evil sect, the first to trample the Nine Sects and murder a Shaolin abbot.
Any hidden intentions behind their actions were meaningless. What remained was simply the result. Whose hand would seize the other's head first was the only simple outcome.
"It seems we both need each other's blood, doesn't it?"
As Beok Jeong's tone became more explicit, Jang Ilso seemed to find it agreeable, letting out a light laugh.
"You might need my neck, but I certainly don't need yours. What would I do with a head that's already gone rotten? Even dogs wouldn't eat it."
Beok Jeong's eyebrows twitched momentarily.
He was, after all, the abbot of Shaolin. Where had he ever faced such a bitter insult? Though labeled as a leader of an evil sect, the contempt from that person had crossed the line of decency.
"What I need is not something like that. What I 'want' isn't that either."
"...Then what do you want, Tyrant?"
Jang Ilso's fingertips, dried with blood, trembled slightly.
"Well, that's something you can't give me. But at least entertainment would suffice. I'm curious to see what expression you'll wear when your solemn mask is stripped away to reveal your true self."
"Amitabha."
Beok Jeong recited the Buddhist prayer solemnly.
Indeed, further conversation was meaningless. Both Beok Jeong and Jang Ilso would understand that.
Swish.
Beok Jeong's fist slowly clenched. It held enough space within it, as if gripping Heo Kong in empty-handed combat.
It was Shaolin's unique fist technique. Rather than harboring intentions to harm, it contained mercy in its restraint. Whether facing a villain or not, Shaolin's fist remained unchanged.
However, in Beok Jeong's eyes as he lightly held his fist, there was a strange emptiness.
Was there any meaning to it?
The law was infinite, and its teachings endless. But how hollow was it to plead for mercy to that person?
At this moment, Beok Jeong couldn't know. He just...
Squeeze.
He tightened his fist a little more.
It was impossible to count how many times he had shared his fist with someone. Now, it was so distant that he couldn't even recall.
The decision of life and death, as well as even a light spar, seemed to have passed by over ten years ago.
He never imagined he would have the opportunity to face someone in a battle of life and death again.
Had the brilliance of his martial arts, once known as the Divine Fist of Mount Song, faded away?
Perhaps that person would provide an answer to that question.
"You seem quite prepared. Has the day of your death weighed down on you?"
There had been such a time for Beok Jeong as well. A time when he believed he could achieve anything, make everything go his way.
But as he lived through the years, he eventually came to understand. If one truly wants to achieve something, they must also know how to wait patiently.
"Just a moment. Just one step more."
"Hmm?"
"Your inability to endure that is your fault, Tyrant."
Tap.
As soon as the words ended, Beok Jeong's foot lightly touched the ground.
It wasn't the strong stance typical of Shaolin, but rather a light step as if tossing something. At the same time, his fist naturally followed suit, like flowing water. Truly, a simple extension.
Whooosh!
In that moment, Jang Ilso's large body was thrown back as if struck by a giant hammer. His head leaned back as if it might break.
"He...!"
Onlookers were too shocked by the sight to even cry out properly.
"Internal Strength?"
A state reached by a brawler who knows how to handle inner qi. It surpasses Heo Kong and lays the foundation for unleashing one's authority (拳力) beyond.
In isolation, it's not particularly remarkable.
What's astounding isn't the internal strength itself, but the fact that such a powerful internal strength can be unleashed with just a light gesture.
How strong must one's internal strength be, how proficient must one be in martial arts, to unleash such an incredible attack with just a gesture?
And... if such a powerful attack can be unleashed with just internal strength, how strong must one's authority be when consciously unleashed?
Beok Jeong couldn't know. He just...
Squeeze.
He tightened his fist a little more.
Crash!
As Jang Ilso's foot dug into the ground, creating deep marks, he staggered back for a moment before slowly straightening his waist, which seemed ready to break.
Drip.
Fresh blood dripped from Jang Ilso's lips, making even this seem eerie and exaggerated.
"Amitabha."
As if unaffected by his peculiarity, Beok Jeong solemnly recited the Buddhist prayer. The other disciples of the Nine Sects were all overwhelmed by his presence.
Shaolin's abbot, Beok Jeong.
The power that had once been known as the Divine Fist of Mount Song was now fully displayed under heaven.
In the presence of his imposing aura, one couldn't help but hold their breath and tremble.
"The three afflictions that turn life into a sea of suffering."
"..."
"Greed, anger, and ignorance. You desired what you shouldn't, envied everything in the world, and were ignorant."
A blue killing intent gathered in Jang Ilso's eyes.
"Greed and anger, huh... Then ignorance. What is my foolishness? What did I not know?"
"You should have known. That the world you live in isn't everything."
"Hahaha!"
Jang Ilso burst into laughter as if he had heard a fantastic joke.
"Haha! Hoho! Hahaha! What a masterpiece of an answer. To think that not knowing someone as formidable as you was here would be a fatal mistake? Hahaha!"
Crash!
As Jang Ilso waved his hand, the rings that had flown in all directions returned to his hand. Leisurely putting the rings back on and examining his hand, Jang Ilso slowly clenched his fist.
Clang!
A sinister sound of metal grinding echoed.
"Well... That might indeed be the case."
With both hands spread out slowly, Jang Ilso, with a youthful face, began to walk towards Beok Jeong.
Momentum that encompassed everything in the world. That was truly the Tyrant.
Whether his martial arts could match up to Beok Jeong's remained to be proven, but in terms of momentum, Jang Ilso was by no means inferior to Beok Jeong.
"So, remember this well."
"..."
"The reason you die... is because of the repulsiveness of pretending to be solemn while deceiving yourself."
Jang Ilso grinned brightly.
"Do you understand?"
That was the signal.
Boom!
Crash!
Jang Ilso and Beok Jeong's feet simultaneously pounded the ground.
The power of the top of the evil sect and the top of the degree clashed.
Their fists roared towards each other more violently than ever.
Boom!
A storm of fierce energy swept in all directions.
For a moment, those who had been fighting each other to kill paused and turned their heads.
The fluctuating golden aura and the blue aura of malice.
Everyone present had an intuition. Who the owners of those two energies were.
The top of the evil sect and the top of the degree. The life-and-death battle between the two. Where else would one have the opportunity to witness such a match in a generation?
Moreover, whether strong or weak, those who learned martial arts were all captivated by the single word 'martial'. Their gaze kept returning there.
But unfortunately, this was a battlefield.
"Aaargh!"
Someone regained their senses and swung their sword, taking away a life that had been hanging by a thread.
The sound of that life ending spread like the breaking of pottery on the ground, shattering the momentarily frozen battlefield once again.
"Die!"
"You filthy scum of the evil sect!"
Bloodied soldiers rushed at each other again, and boiling blood splattered in all directions.
Even though a once-in-a-lifetime confrontation was unfolding right next to them, nobody could focus on it.
Those who felt their lives were precious, those swept away by the madness of the battlefield, those who were just obedient to fallen orders—all of them could only focus on cutting, stabbing, and tearing at those they saw before them.
Thus, amidst the gathering of so many people, the greatest life-and-death battle unfolded paradoxically in the utmost solitude.
Crash!
Fist clashed with fist.
Beok Jeong's fist, enveloped in golden brilliance, effortlessly deflected Jang Ilso's fist, which was infused with azure true qi.
"Amitabha!"
Beok Jeong's fist instantly drew dozens of fist shadows in the air.
Demon-Subduing Golden Vajra Fist!
Golden fist shadows, each the size of a person's torso, flew towards Jang Ilso at lightning speed.
Whoosh.
Jang Ilso stepped on a seemingly intoxicated movement technique. Although the fist shadows fluttered around his coat, they couldn't touch his body. Jang Ilso skillfully avoided all the attacking blows.
Feeling somewhat relieved, he thought he had a moment's respite.
Crash!
At that moment, an immense shock struck Jang Ilso's chest.
"Urgh!"
Blood spurted from his mouth as he staggered backward.
The Hundred Steps Divine Fist. No martial arts under heaven could compare to its speed alone, hence why it dared to be called the 'Divine Fist.' This peerless fist technique was unleashed in succession by Jang Ilso, demonstrating the pinnacle of his martial prowess.
Before the internal strength of the Demon-Subduing Golden Vajra Fist could even dissipate, Jang Ilso forcefully unleashed the Hundred Steps Divine Fist, twisting its power mid-air. Thus, Beok Jeong focused on its speed rather than its strength. It was a fist that left no room for the opponent to dodge, and Beok Jeong completely achieved that intention.
Boom!
Now, the augmented power of the Hundred Steps Divine Fist followed.
With each step Jang Ilso took to evade, the ground beneath him sank as if meteorites were falling.
"Hah!"
Jang Ilso grinned, his eyes wide open, as he spread his hands wide. The rings on his fingers, imbued with internal strength, fiercely spun and charged towards Beok Jeong.
However!
"Amitabha."
Bang! Bang bang bang!
Not a single one of those rings touched Beok Jeong's body. It was due to the force emanating from Beok Jeong's fingertips. Shaolin's boasted Finger Flick Divine Power deflected all the rings that flew towards him.
A technique that could deflect flying rings at a speed faster than arrows shot from a strong bow, it was an unimaginable feat.
Even Jang Ilso couldn't help but widen his eyes at this astonishing sight.
Thwong.
Beok Jeong lightly stamped his foot on the ground. Simultaneously, his body divided into nine figures, each assuming a posture representing a different Buddha.
It was a scene akin to painting the Buddha on a canvas of chaos.
The extreme movement technique of Shaolin, which could only be achieved by reaching the pinnacle of skill, the Lotus Platform Nine Grades, was reproduced through Beok Jeong's body.
Boom!
As if appearing right before Jang Ilso like an apparition, Beok Jeong pushed his chest.
Clang!
However, the name Tyrant Jang Ilso was not just for show.
Even pushed to his limits, his senses responded faithfully to Beok Jeong's attack, which was beyond imagination. His wrist, or more precisely, the bracelet above it, intercepted Beok Jeong's palm.
In that moment, Beok Jeong's hand, bent like a dragon's claw, grabbed hold of Jang Ilso's bracelet.
Crash!
Before long, the heart of the Law of Beok Jeong pierced Jang Ilso's chest.
He seized the bracelet and struck Jang Ilso's chest with his left hand.
Despite the onslaught causing his internal organs to twist, at that moment, Jang Ilso twisted his head fiercely as if receiving a blow to his face rather than his abdomen.
Crash!
An immense force struck Jang Ilso's inner thigh, causing him to bend his knees to withstand it. Simultaneously, Beok Jeong, with momentum like a mountain, slammed into Jang Ilso's shoulder.
Boom!
With a sound resembling a collapsing mountain, Jang Ilso's body was thrown backward.
"A...mi...ta...bha!"
Having seized the initiative, Beok Jeong extended his palm towards the retreating Jang Ilso.
Golden palm shadows, instantly increasing in size, flew towards Jang Ilso like the hand of Guanyin, the Bodhisattva of Compassion, aiming to eradicate evil.
Crash!
With a terrifying roar, a tremendous shockwave swept in all directions.