The Reincarnated Hunter Sweeps Up All Fortunes - Chapter 15

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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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Episode 15
Episode 15
The match began as waves of heat shimmered across the arena.
Im Gang reached instinctively for the Bi Dao before catching himself.
The Bi Dao was classified as a concealed weapon and he hadn’t been permitted to bring it.
His mind had grown hot with Fighting Spirit—he’d simply forgotten.
“So I thought I had a real fighter on my hands, but you’re just a rookie.”
The opponent didn’t miss the opening.
He grinned sharply and drove off the ground, surging forward.
Im Gang’s opponent was a Rogue Martial Artist who’d reached early Second Rank, known by the alias Flash Sword because he supposedly finished opponents with sword techniques so rapid they claimed to resolve matters in two moves.
But that skill meant nothing if he couldn’t close the distance.
Speed in footwork was essential.
‘Damn.’
Im Gang had been distracted by thoughts of the Bi Dao and reacted half a beat too late.
He hastily deployed the Hwan Ryu Bo Beop and retreated, but the Flash Sword’s blade—already within arm’s reach—stretched forward to pierce his shoulder.
The moment Flash Sword’s lips curved upward in triumph—
“It’s… over?”
Im Gang spun like a toppled fan, whirling through the air. The blade meant for his shoulder cut only empty space. Flash Sword’s expression twisted in bewilderment.
Not quite as startled as Im Gang, but bewildered all the same.
‘Huh?!’
How’d he do that?
As his vision spun wildly, his leg rose of its own accord.
[Proficiency in certain skills has increased.]
…….
[Proficiency in certain skills has increased.]
…….
[Second Rank Whirlwind Kick skill has risen to the Second Stage.]
…….
[Second Rank Whirlwind Kick skill has risen to the Fourth Stage.]
His raised leg folded, the thigh drawing tight against his body.
His hips twisted, his waist flexed and compressed.
His knee locked at a forty-five-degree angle—and at that same instant, the bent leg exploded outward with full force.
Together with his spinning frame, it swept through with literal, devastating power.
All accomplished in a single, crystalline moment.
The result—
Crack!
The instep of his right foot drove into Flash Sword’s ribs. The momentum of Flash Sword’s approach combined with Im Gang’s rotational force, amplifying the impact.
The sound of several ribs snapping accompanied Flash Sword’s violent projection through the air.
“Ugh!”
“Wait… what?”
Having landed on his feet, Im Gang—
—stared in utter stupefaction at Flash Sword tumbling across the ground like a tumbleweed.
How in the world had he done that?
His mind was bewildered, yet his body understood.
‘Is this what Embodiment is?’
To be more precise, he’d internalized the skill itself.
If someone asked him to perform it again—
He felt certain he could do it whenever he wished!
“Stop the match!”
The Referee shouted and rushed to Flash Sword, assessing his condition.
The moment the blow landed, he’d lost his sword—that life’s blood of every martial artist.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
He cradled his abdomen protectively with both arms.
Seeing this, the Referee determined the match was decided.
“The victor… is White Face!”
He raised the white flag, proclaiming victory.
“…….”
Silence blanketed the arena.
Only then did Im Gang realize his mistake.
The spectators, expecting a fierce battle between Second Rank martial artists, sat in stunned quiet.
But the match had ended in a flash, and he found himself thinking, ‘Well, I suppose that was a bit much.’
‘I wasn’t paying attention.’
He’d come to the Underground Fighting Arena after a long absence and was operating at half capacity.
He was scratching his head over what to do about it when—
“……Insane! That was incredible!”
“That’s the union of opposites—that’s exactly what it is!”
“Huh?”
A cheer erupted from somewhere, accompanied by a quip he thought he’d heard before.
Im Gang, embarrassed, raised his hand and waved it.
“Take me on!”
“Damn it, if you want me that badly, I’ll make special time tonight——!”
He turned his raised hand into a fist and flipped them the middle finger.
* * *
The first match ended mercifully amid the cheers.
Back in the Waiting Room, Im Gang reviewed the bout while preparing for the next one.
‘My Progress went up all of a sudden.’
The notification had flickered past too quickly, and he’d been too absorbed in the match to register it.
When he opened the system window, the Whirlwind Kick had risen to four stages.
He focused his mind.
[Second Rank Whirlwind Kick — Four Stages]
⌞
First Stage: Wind settles in the Yongcheon Acupoint.
Second Stage: Wind erupts from the Yongcheon Acupoint to the limbs.
Third Stage: The erupting wind makes the joints supple.
Fourth Stage: The erupting wind binds the bones in rigid strength.
Im Gang skimmed through the window and muttered with a sour expression.
“……Wasn’t this supposed to be a leg technique?”
Why were the effects written out like something strange, like the Great Strength Breaking Technique, rather than actual moves?
The doubt crossed his mind, but he swept it away.
He’d learned it through rough, self-taught methods and turned it into a skill—there was no way he actually understood the real martial art.
Unless he took a proper master, nothing would change.
‘Even if I took a master now, there are no secret manuals, so what difference would it make?’
The only way forward was to practice it as needed, and if Progress stalled entirely, abandon it or use points to forcibly raise the stage.
The latter didn’t appeal to him.
He didn’t have enough points to waste on a Second Rank skill anyway.
‘I’d rather spend them on the Great Strength Breaking Technique.’
Even at First Stage, it had padded his wallet nicely with the prize money from matches.
He redirected his wandering thoughts back to focus.
Then he reviewed the match again.
He thought about why the Whirlwind Kick, which he’d been drilling daily, had suddenly jumped to four stages.
‘No clue.’
His brain felt like it was overheating, so he gave up.
He’d been reincarnated in Medieval Martial Arts Land, but he’d never formally studied martial arts.
He’d been dragged around by his master and thrown into fights until he became a Third Rank Rogue Martial Artist.
How could he possibly understand Martial Studies or Martial Logic?
He was yawning and stretching, drilling away aimlessly, when—
He sensed people running past outside the door.
Focusing his hearing, he caught the sound of loud commotion.
Soon came a careful, deliberate knock: tap-tap.
“……I thought the next match was still a ways off. What’s the matter?”
“Well, you see……”
When he opened the door and asked, the man standing in the doorway stammered.
It was none other than the Manager of the Underground Fighting Arena.
He wore a cunning expression and rubbed his palms together nervously.
“Ah, dear me. This is rather awkward—a situation’s come up, and it looks like you’ll have to fight your next match sooner than scheduled.”
“How much sooner?”
“Well……”
Just as the Manager opened his mouth, a violent tremor shook through another Waiting Room: Boom!
The Manager paused awkwardly and laughed.
“……In a quarter hour?”
“What are the odds?”
“Ten percent… no, wait! I’ll give you thirty percent instead!”
The moment Im Gang’s eyes narrowed to slits, the Manager backpedaled.
This was Merchant Haggling at its finest.
* * *
Less than a quarter hour later, he stepped into the roar of the crowd.
‘This time.’
He couldn’t rely on luck like before.
He’d been honest with himself—fortune had smiled on him.
The Whirlwind Kick’s Progress had surged like a miracle, and his body had moved of its own accord; without that, he’d have taken a blade through the shoulder and bled out.
He would have ended up punctured, gushing blood.
He rolled his shoulders slowly, working the stiffness from his neck with careful turns.
A pleasant sensation rippled down his spine.
It wasn’t just the feeling of air releasing between his bones.
‘Hell. I’ve become a true denizen of Medieval Martial Arts Land.’
His past life hadn’t been so different from this—wasn’t it really the same?
Though, none of that mattered much.
The past was the past.
The present was the present.
“White Mask, who annihilated his opponent with a single strike in the opening bout!”
Because he wore a white mask, they called him White Mask?
Their naming sense was abysmal.
“…His opponent was a desperate gambler trying to erase his debts, renowned among masters of Kwon Gak Sool for mercilessly shattering his enemies’ limbs!”
Kwon Gak Sool was perfect for honing close-quarters combat.
Beneath the mask, Im Gang twisted his mouth into a cruel grin.
“That’s right—Tu Jeon Gwi! The match begins now!”
“Roooaaaar!”
The Referee raised his hand high, then swept it down; in that instant, Im Gang and Tu Jeon Gwi charged toward each other.
Im Gang moved first.
He deployed the Hwan Ryu Bo Beop.
Still only at the Second Rank level, the stance was clumsy and tentative—but it was enough to make his charging opponent hesitate.
Without losing that opening, he unleashed the Whirlwind Kick.
Not a reflexive jerk of the spine, but a calculated ascent to the Fourth Rank level—his body spinning with deliberate grace as his back pivoted toward Tu Jeon Gwi, airborne.
Like an overhead kick, he hung suspended in space, his right foot driving down at the crown of Tu Jeon Gwi’s head.
“…Huh!”
Tu Jeon Gwi gasped and crossed both arms overhead to block.
Crunch!
The weighty impact traveled through his forearms and up to his shoulders.
‘Damn!’
He cursed silently.
Because of the crushing force transmitted through him?
No.
If that were all, he wouldn’t be cursing.
It was the epithet.
Unless one proclaimed it oneself, a nickname was proof of having left a fearsome mark on countless fighters.
Tu Jeon Gwi—a demon who fights and fights again.
A spirit born for battle.
But now, as he fought for gambling coin, a chill ran through him: Im Gang was still airborne, still driving his leg downward.
His shoulders screamed as though they would shatter.
At this rate, they truly might break.
‘Abandon the defense.’
He dropped his crossed arms. His joints twisted slightly the wrong way, and he heard a sickening pop—but that was better than snapping clean.
Simultaneously, he tucked his head low. The heel of the kick whistled past his nose, a sharp sting following; his vision bloomed red. He hadn’t evaded perfectly.
‘Retreat Step.’
A backward step born not for attack, but for escape—the thinking man’s exit.
As he widened the distance and fell back, he saw Im Gang’s face twist with frustration.
Damn it all. He’d said Second Rank, early stage. Where in this did that match? Not mid, not late—something felt sloppy about his form, but the force came close to First Rank power.
…Tu Jeon Gwi didn’t know that it was Im Gang’s crude internal power—unseemly for his rank—combined with the Great Strength Breaking Technique that created such monstrous force.
Monstrous strength didn’t merely affect raw musculature.
With his restraints lifted, Im Gang’s body had become a weapon unto itself—more than enough to warrant the name.
And Im Gang recognized that fact.
‘Ah. I understand now.’
I am the strongest among Second Rank fighters. Confidence? Arrogance? It’s neither of those things.
As long as I don’t drop my guard, I’ll never lose.
To be precise: I cannot lose.
[Your Second Rank Whirlwind Kick skill has risen to fifty percent.]
[Great Strength Breaking Technique and Whirlwind Kick have formed a Chaining combination.]
Martial Studies and Martial Logic—X wouldn’t understand them either.
But the system understood it perfectly.
“Not coming? Or should I come to you?”
Im Gang had already begun using Hwan Ryu Bo Beop at this level, closing the distance to Tu Jeon Gwi with a less awkward stance.

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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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