I Obtained Guan Yu's Martial Arts - Chapter 24

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Obtaining Guan Yunzhang’s Martial Art — Episode 24
Blue Dragon Peak (4)
As Guan Hui headed toward the Black Path’s Underground Fighting Arena, Guan Yunzhang offered him a single piece of advice.
—It would be best not to use the Crescent Moon Blade.
‘What? Why not?’
—It will aid your training.
Guan Hui had undergone brutal cultivation recently and reached the realm of Second-Rate Expert, standing now but a single step from the next stage.
In other words, the exalted realm of First-Rate Warrior was nearly within his grasp.
And to ascend to the First-Rate realm, he absolutely had to achieve Sword-Body Unity.
‘But isn’t that something only truly exceptional masters attain?’
—It differs from Mind-Sword Unity, which those who have reached the Celestial Realm possess.
Mind-Sword Unity means the mind and blade become one—the blade moves of its own accord following where the mind wills it. That is the realm of Mind-Sword Unity.
Sword-Body Unity is something else entirely.
It means the body and blade become one—wielding your weapon as naturally as you would your own limbs. That is what we call Sword-Body Unity.
The realm of a First-Rate Warrior is also known by another name: Sword Qi Injury.
To master Sword Qi—tempering one’s vital essence until it becomes thin and razor-sharp, taking the form of a blade—you must first comprehend the fundamental principles of the blade itself.
Of course, in your case it will be the Crescent Moon Blade rather than a sword.
‘Then wouldn’t I need to use the Crescent Moon Blade even more? Only through practice can I master it properly?’
—Can one learn to run before learning to walk?
Whether it is the Crescent Moon Blade, a sword, or a spear, the foundation of all lies in your two arms and your fists.
To wield any weapon well, you must first master the use of your own arms and hands.
—So learn the Fist. That is what you need now.
‘I understand, General.’
That concluded the conversation between Guan Hui and Guan Yunzhang.
Taking those words to heart, Guan Hui unleashed the Scarlet Flame Radiant Martial Art with full force from the very start.
Sizzzzz—
The moment a bead of sweat fell from Guan Hui’s forehead onto his vermillion skin, it evaporated instantly.
“No, this isn’t—!”
Sensing something amiss, Huang Ping cried out in alarm, but it was already too late.
His vision was already filled entirely by a massive, blazing fist.
Whoooosh—
Guan Hui’s fist extended with breathtaking speed, as if space itself were folding, and struck Huang Ping’s jaw.
CRACK—
With the deafening sound of the thick Hexagonal Club splitting clean in two, Huang Ping went flying through the air.
‘Flying… I’m flying…!’
Like some bald eagle cast adrift, Huang Ping flailed helplessly through the void.
Thud—
He crashed face-first into the arena floor and lost consciousness.
Huang Ping of the Hairless Fist, who had earned a name among the Black Path and survived countless brutal fights, had been defeated without landing a single punch.
“……!!”
“……!!!”
Everyone watching the fight stood in shock.
That scrawny boy had just knocked out the bald fighter in a single blow!?
Even the gamblers, renowned for their keen eye, had not anticipated this result.
In truth, no one could have.
His opponent was merely an unknown young stripling compared to the legendary Hairless Fist.
“Wooooow!”
“Ha-ha-ha! That’s something else. Truly something!”
“Kid knows how to throw a punch!”
After a brief moment of stunned silence, an enormous roar of acclaim erupted toward Guan Hui.
Everyone prefers an unexpected turn to a foregone conclusion.
Moreover, Huang Ping—that arrogant bald fool who went about bragging—cut a far less appealing figure than this youth, who stood with composed dignity upon the combat stage.
And more than anything, this opponent looked far easier to face than Huang Ping had been.
“I appreciate your cheers,” Guan Hui said evenly.
Having received the crowd’s acclaim regardless of the reason, Guan Hui clasped his fists in a modest salute.
“…….”
“…….”
The moment Guan Hui opened his mouth, all eyes fixed upon him.
It was an unspoken rule of this Underground Fighting Arena to grant the victor a moment to speak before the next match began.
‘Will he know how to speak…?’
Worry flickered across Zhu Hu’s eyes as he watched Guan Hui.
In a combat match filled with common rabble like this, one couldn’t afford to be polite.
You had to provoke them properly so the next match could proceed smoothly.
Speak timidly here, and you’d be treated as a cripple by everyone—worse yet, you might get thrown out of the Underground Fighting Arena for ruining the mood.
A victor getting expelled? Did that even make sense?
‘Nothing the Black Path scum does makes sense anyway.’
If he were going to follow rules to the letter, he’d have shaved his head and entered Shaolin instead. He wouldn’t be here doing this.
‘Please, just… come through for once.’
He’d given him warning beforehand, but Zhu Hu was uneasy—after all, Guan Hui belonged to the White Path, and he wasn’t sure he could pull this off.
“If he doesn’t do this right, we’re finished.”
Anxiety gnawed at Zhu Hu as he bit his fingernails nervously.
Earlier, while helping to move the fallen Huang Ping, he’d stolen coin and wagered it all on Guan Hui’s victory in the next match.
So Guan Hui had to advance—not get thrown out—and win the next bout.
‘Please, just land one devastating blow!’
Right as Zhu Hu’s teeth clicked with tension,
“Hmm.”
Guan Hui looked down at everyone with a bored gaze.
His eyes were like those of someone gazing down from the highest reaches of heaven upon all creation below.
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine…….”
Guan Hui raised a finger, pointing at each one in turn, then flickered his hand as he counted.
“Ah, exactly nine bald heads. The saying goes, a bald man’s revenge must be taken by a bald man. Come on up, all of you.”
“……!!”
Zhu Hu couldn’t help but gasp, his fists clenching tight.
‘Yes! That’s it! That’s what I needed!’
Zhu Hu felt genuine exhilaration flood through him.
Eighteen years living as a pickpocket for the Black Path.
That provocation just now was fiercer than any he’d heard in all those eighteen years.
Touching a bald man’s head!?
Even Shaolin’s monks would have their veins bulging at their temples over that.
“You bastard! You just touched my head!?”
“It’s not bald—it’s shaved!”
“Fine. I’ll scrape that skull of yours clean!”

* * *
Crack!—
Another bald head. Or rather, another challenger down, and Guan Hui dusted off his hands lightly.
The spear-wielder with both shoulder blades dislocated limped out of the Underground Fighting Arena with the spear still clenched between his teeth.
Seeing how pitiful the sight was, Zhu Hu patted his shoulder sympathetically—
Clink!—
—and successfully pocketed a silver coin the man had hidden deep in his robes.
“Heh heh. Much obliged for your trouble, brother.”
“Mm. You worked hard too.”
Guan Hui’s eyes widened slightly as he caught sight of Zhu Hu’s money pouch.
The time it took Guan Hui to achieve five consecutive victories against the bald heads was roughly two hours.
In that short span, Zhu Hu had transformed a purse that didn’t have a single copper coin into something as bloated as a pig’s belly.
Through gambling he’d lost more than he’d won, but through pickpocketing alone, he’d made this much.
And against the sinister warriors of the Black Path, no less!
-Using such talent for garbage work. What a waste.
Even the general, who had never once praised any of the Guan Family retainers save Guan Hui himself, had been moved to acknowledge the boy’s gift.
‘Is he really that skilled?’
-His ability to erase his presence is exceptional. A natural gift for Concealment.
‘For the general to say so much… he must be more impressive than I thought.’
-Still, he’s nothing but a petty thief.
‘Hmm. But if I were to teach him, wouldn’t he improve considerably?’
Something glinted in Guan Hui’s eyes as he regarded Zhu Hu.
The Guan household needed talent right now.
To make a clan worthy of its name, one needed not only wealth and martial skill, but also talented individuals to expand the family’s influence.
‘If I beat him into shape, he might turn out decent.’
“……!?”
Meeting Guan Hui’s gaze—hungry with ambition—Zhu Hu’s body trembled.
“Don’t worry, brother. I’ll give you half.”
“Hmm?”
“I only stole it because you drew their attention. So half of it is yours.”
Zhu Hu handed over more than half the money from his pouch to Guan Hui without a moment’s hesitation.
“That’s not what I meant. Are you really giving it to me?”
Guan Hui had no intention of refusing if Zhu Hu was offering.
If Zhu Hu had stolen from ordinary people, he would have boxed his ears and made him return it—but these were Black Path thugs, weren’t they?
Scum like that deserved what they got.
“Of course, brother. Even thieves have their code. There’s a reason we use the character for ‘path.'”
“……?”
Guan Hui let out a helpless laugh at the absurdity.
“That’s not the ‘path’ in thief, though.”
“Tch. Educated types like you ruin everything with your sharp tongues.”
Zhu Hu clicked his tongue and grumbled in response to Guan Hui’s keen eye.
“Anyway, it looks like there won’t be any more matches today, so let’s head back.”
“Hmm. But why put it off until tomorrow?”
Sunlight still streamed clearly through the gaps in the roof of the Underground Fighting Arena.
It was far too early to be closing down.
‘They wrapped things up awfully fast.’
The crowd’s bewilderment, the unsettled atmosphere—something about it all felt off.
But since they were giving him a break anyway, Guan Hui saw no reason to push the matter.
“It’s because of you, brother.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You turned out to be stronger than they expected, so they shut things down for now.”
Zhu Hu smirked and continued.
“The Black Flame Gang boys—they’re probably nursing quite the headache right now. I’d wager their brains are about ready to split trying to come up with a scheme to take you down.”

* * *
“Arrgh! What is this! What is this!”
Bang!
Zhao Gui, the elder of the Black Flame Gang, smashed his fist against the table with brutal force.
Splinters flew between his goat beard, but he paid them no mind and brought his fist down even harder.
He was the type who needed to smash tables—or people’s skulls—to ease his fury.
“How in blazes did a single White Path bastard manage to string together five consecutive victories without us being able to stop him!”
Zhao Gui managed the Underground Fighting Arena for the Black Flame Gang, which ran several unsavory operations.
The Underground Fighting Arena was the most profitable of all their enterprises.
The weight of that responsibility was considerable.
And now a crisis had erupted there.
Some unknown White Path fool had crushed all the strong fighters, rolling through five consecutive victories like an unstoppable avalanche.
One could argue that five victories was only half of ten—hardly remarkable.
That was true enough.
The problem wasn’t that he’d won five in a row; it was how he’d won them.
“Every single one in a single blow! A single punch! How is that supposed to be gambling! Where’s the sport in that!”
This Guan Hui, some nobody they’d never heard of, had sent all five opponents flying with nothing but his bare fist.
No exchanges of blows, no fierce give-and-take—just a tap, and crash! They’d crumple. It was maddening.
“Ugh…… Look at today’s losses. You incompetent fools.”
Zhao Gui tossed the money pouch containing today’s take onto the table with disgust.
Instead of the thick, pig-head-sized bulge there should have been, the pouch held barely a mouse’s worth of coins.
Because Guan Hui had steamrolled through his opponents, everyone had bet everything on him—and the house had lost.
“If not for some idiot who kept throwing money in like a fool, we’d have made nothing today—you understand that!”
“…….”
The Black Flame Gang’s subordinates stared silently at the hollow pouch.
Compared to when they’d had two pig-head-sized pouches before Guan Hui showed up, the result was painfully bleak.
“What…… should we…… do?”
“Surely…… we have to…… open tomorrow…… right?”
At his underlings’ dim-witted questions, Zhao Gui clutched the back of his neck.
The tension creeping up his nape felt like demonic influence taking hold.
“Do you call that talking!”
Seething with rage, Zhao Gui flipped the table over entirely and let out a furious roar.
“Arrrgh! You absolute idiots! Did you pour white liquor straight into your skulls! Why are you all so thick-headed!”
The Black Path fools have been thick-headed for longer than I can remember.
But in a situation like this, it was enough to drive one mad with frustration.
Every last person proved useless, so when a crisis like this descended, wasn’t it his burden alone to resolve?
“Go kill him, then.”
All eyes turned to Hou Wu, who lay sprawled across Zhao Gui’s bed in martial robes rather than sleeping clothes, his words cutting through the silence.
“What’s wrong with my idea? Kill him before he shows up tomorrow and causes more trouble.”
Hou Wu drew a finger across his throat in a slitting motion, grinning wickedly.
“He’s just an obstacle. Put him down, simple as that.”
“……A sound plan. You three — select your fastest, most skilled fighters.”
Zhao Gui ground his teeth and righted the table.
Killing intent flickered like heat-shimmer in his eyes, barely contained.
“Tonight. We move against him.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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