"Um..."
Can the word 'shock' alone express the sentiment of witnessing this scene?
On the vast and rugged earth, giant handprints were engraved. They were as massive as the imprints left by Pangu, yet imbued with a sacred aura as if carrying the will of the Buddhas.
Jongli Hyeong's mouth hung open in astonishment.
"That, that's... Beok Jeong."
Scars etched into the ground were not particularly surprising, or rather, it was almost an expected result given that Beok Jeong was the one who made them.
Who is Beok Jeong? He is none other than the abbot of Shaolin, known as the North Star of Central Plains martial arts, the leader of Shaolin's A Thousand Years, whose reputation rivals or exceeds even the experts of other sects. He is the abbot of Shaolin, so what more needs to be said?
While it cannot be guaranteed that the leader of a sect will always be the strongest within that sect, Beok Jeong was acknowledged for his strength in terms of ability.
Who dares to deny the fact that Beok Jeong is the closest contender to being the strongest individual under heaven of their time?
However, the reason Jongli Hyeong was astonished was not just the power of martial arts displayed by Beok Jeong, but the unbelievable mastery contained within.
Even an ordinary person would find it difficult to comprehend the Seventy-Two Arts of Shaolin, let alone fully grasp them through a lifetime of training. Among these arts, only a select few, possessing both talent and unwavering dedication, are granted access to the highest level of martial arts.
However, aren't all these martial arts being displayed with each step?
The seamless flow of movement makes it difficult to fully grasp their power.
However, not all the Seventy-Two Arts are the same. Each of these arts is different. They differ in their application of internal strength and the type of internal strength needed.
Yet Beok Jeong seamlessly links them together as if using different martial arts within a single martial art.
How deep must one's mastery of martial arts be to accomplish such incredible feats?
"Is this the true power of Shaolin?"
Jongli Hyeong's fingertips began to tremble.
How many martial arts could he withstand if he were to stand before Beok Jeong?
The abbot of Shaolin, a giant leading under heaven.
Did the immense reputation overshadow the value of Beok Jeong as a 'soldier'?
"This is..."
As absurd as it may seem, at that moment Jongli Hyeong hoped for Jang Ilso to put up a fight. If Jang Ilso were to be easily defeated, all the glory would belong to Shaolin, and the cave and Peng Family would have paid the price of blood for nothing.
If that were to happen, wouldn't they ultimately be criticized for needlessly sending their disciples to their deaths?
"That cannot happen!"
Anxiety gripped him, but at the moment, there was no clear solution. Jongli Hyeong clenched his fists tightly.
"No matter how much of a Tyrant he may be, to Beok Jeong..."
It was at that moment.
Thunk.
Jang Ilso, who had been thrown out by Beok Jeong's external force, grabbed hold of the ground as if clutching it.
"Hmm..."
Then, he slowly rose to his feet. The makeup that covered his face had been smudged away, and the emblematic headpiece was nowhere to be seen. His body was covered in torn patches, and dust was stirred up.
He looked quite worse for wear, to say the least.
Even the visible wounds on him were not particularly severe. Shaolin's internal skill techniques are merciful yet cruel. While they undoubtedly shook up the internal organs of his sturdy physique, the external injuries were likely not that severe.
However, Jongli Hyeong doubted his eyes the next moment.
Despite Jang Ilso's battered appearance, his posture and gaze... were not much different from before. Weariness, lethargy, and indifference still lingered within him.
As if these wounds were nothing out of the ordinary. No, to him, it seemed as if they were just another part of his daily routine.
For a moment, Jongli Hyeong felt a chill run down his spine. A strange sense of foreboding spread throughout his body.
"This, this..."
Jang Ilso, as if remarking on someone else's affairs, uttered an exclamation and casually swept back his fallen bangs.
"It looks like I'm in a mess."
It's right after being pushed back so miserably. However, there was clearly a sense of ease in Jang Ilso's gesture.
Arrogance? Conceit? No, not quite. That wasn't fabricated.
Even Beok Jeong couldn't hide his expression and stiffened his complexion at this sight.
"Is it because he's an old, bald leader who doesn't care about his appearance...? There's no compassion in his demeanor. How can 'mercy' even be discussed here?"
Jang Ilso stood up.
Blood dripped to the ground where he had risen.
"Yet, it doesn't seem like he just got the Shaolin abbot position handed to him. He must have used his tongue quite skillfully to earn that position."
"Amitabha."
With a lowered gaze, Beok Jeong observed Jang Ilso with a sinking expression.
Is there room for relaxation for that person?
No, there couldn't be. His attacks clearly had an effect on Jang Ilso. The wounds and pallor on his sturdy physique were undoubtedly real.
Then what was this sense of ease?
The situation didn't add up. Perhaps that's why Beok Jeong realized that it wasn't a sense of ease stemming from the physical resilience.
'Is it something familiar?'
If Beok Jeong were in Jang Ilso's shoes, he probably wouldn't have felt so calm in defeat. But Jang Ilso doesn't seem to place much importance on such situations.
Perhaps because he's faced them countless times before.
It dawned on Beok Jeong once again. How many battles that person must have fought. How many stronger opponents he must have overcome.
From being a small sect in Guizhou to becoming a force to be reckoned with under heaven, the myriad challenges he must have overcome.
To him, such a situation may not be particularly special.
But...
"The luck that has accompanied you all your life won't repeat itself today."
"...Huh?"
"All things must come to an end. Of course, there won't be..."
"Pfft!"
Before Beok Jeong could finish his sentence, Jang Ilso spat out the blood in his mouth. The thick, dark blood seeped into the ground. Seeing this, Jang Ilso chuckled and grinned.
"Ah, sorry. It's a bit gross. I actually don't like blood that much."
"...Tyrant."
Beok Jeong stared at Jang Ilso with faint eyes. Eventually, his eyes softened.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself. It's only just begun."
Thunk.
A noise emanated from Jang Ilso's fist.
"If it's luck..."
He started to chuckle. Then, he vanished as if melting into the air.
"Check it out!"
Boom!
It was an unparalleled speed. A blue aura emanated from his fist, spreading out like a pair of wings.
"It's useless."
Beok Jeong assumed a firm stance with a resolute expression.
Arhat Fist. The foundation of all Shaolin Fist techniques.
Because it's basic, it might not seem special, but at the same time, it's more threatening than any other martial arts. Being basic means it lacks nothing.
Presenting an unyielding martial art was the perfect choice against the unconventional Jang Ilso. And this was an expression of Beok Jeong's determination to decisively defeat Jang Ilso here and now.
Boom!
With a deafening roar and the accompanying shockwave enveloping the surroundings, the outcome was clear. Beok Jeong's forearm, as firm as a mountain, perfectly blocked Jang Ilso's fist. Even the fierce energy of Jang Ilso's martial arts couldn't penetrate Beok Jeong's profound internal strength.
However, in that moment, Jang Ilso's hand, moving at an almost imperceptible speed, swiftly struck Beok Jeong's arm three times in succession.
Boom! Crash! Thud!
The resounding blasts echoed one after another. While Beok Jeong's body remained steady, it was merely a physical facade. The ground beneath, struck by Jang Ilso's overwhelming force, began to crumble under the weight of his authority, slowly giving way.
A brief moment of confusion flashed in Beok Jeong's eyes.
The power of Shaolin's martial arts originates from the lower body. While the lower body remains firmly anchored, the upper body merely disperses the force it receives.
However, the momentarily unstable ground failed to provide adequate support for Beok Jeong's lower body.
It was, quite literally, a fleeting variable.
And in the realm they had reached, such minor variables could swell into significant disruptions like rolling snowballs.
Beok Jeong quickly moved backward to readjust his stance, but Jang Ilso, seemingly anticipating his every move, stuck to him like a shadow.
It was a gap that an ordinary person could never seize, a momentary opportunity. Yet, Jang Ilso clung to that moment like a beast.
"Press!"
Beok Jeong thrust his fist forward in one swift motion. Twelve strikes of his fist sliced through the air with precision. It was a simple and swift action, yet in Beok Jeong's hands, it transformed into a demonstration of peerless skill, a testament to his divine mastery unmatched under the heavens.
However, without properly grounding himself, the unleashed Arhat Fist failed to fully unleash its power.
Thud!
A short, muffled sound echoed. In reality, it was almost a dozen strikes overlapping almost simultaneously.
The eyes of Jang Ilso, who had withstood all of Beok Jeong's strikes, gleamed with a sinister light.
"You!"
As Beok Jeong attempted to thrust his leg forward once again, Jang Ilso lifted him off the ground. Anticipating Jang Ilso's imminent strike, Beok Jeong swiftly withdrew his extended leg and blocked with his knee.
Crash!
It was a flawless defense, but as a consequence, Beok Jeong's body soared further into the air.
No matter how much internal strength he suppressed, defying the force of Jang Ilso's foot with his own strength was impossible.
"Isn't that so?"
In that moment, Jang Ilso's menacing voice pierced Beok Jeong's ears.
"No matter how strong you are."
Whoosh!
A blue flame erupted from Jang Ilso's hands.
"If you can't utilize it, it's as good as non-existent!"
Jang Ilso's palms surged towards Beok Jeong like the strike of a wild beast.
Beok Jeong shouted, unleashing a burst of white energy from his fingertips.
One-Finger Zen!
It was a good choice. When internal strength levels are equal, external force struggles to overcome concentrated energy at a single point, especially against someone with Beok Jeong's superior internal strength.
However, it was also a foolish choice.
Upon seeing the energy flying towards his hand, Jang Ilso laughed. Then, unexpectedly, he released the energy from his hand.
Beok Jeong's eyes widened.
"What?"
*Thud!*
Sharp and powerful, the energy easily pierced through Jang Ilso's hand.
If Jang Ilso had blocked with his internal strength-infused hand, it wouldn't have pierced through, and Beok Jeong would have had time to continue his assault.
But instead, Jang Ilso chose to yield rather than resist.
As a result, while a gaping hole was left in his palm, Jang Ilso had stolen precious time from Beok Jeong.
"Too naive."
In that moment when his hand, having released energy, was left empty, Jang Ilso swiftly wrapped flames around it once more.
And those flames erupted in a straight line towards Beok Jeong's chest.
Boom!
The blue flames, like a serpent, tore through the brilliant aura enveloping Beok Jeong's chest, devouring the lifeforce within.