Third-rate Martial Family Becomes the Best Under Heaven - Chapter 264

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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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Third-rate Martial Arts Family, Greatest Under Heaven – Episode 264
In any other circumstance, there would have been half a dozen contenders worthy of becoming Jeil-ryong—this was a legendary Dragon Phoenix Tournament.
With the final two late-stage cultivators competing for the Jeil-ryong position in the finals, the crowds that had gathered were absolutely staggering.
If you pooled them all together, you could probably build an entire city.
“What are you doing? Come on in already. Let me taste some Shaolin fists!”
“Yang Hwi! You’re going to regret this!”
Before such a massive crowd, with the greatest masters of the entire Baek Do martial realm assembled, the swordsman had declared he would face Shaolin’s fists bare-handed.
This was no longer merely a matter of personal audacity—it concerned Shaolin’s very honor.
“Master.”
Beop-gak looked toward Lakbul.
Unlike other sects, only two representatives from Shaolin were seated here.
Lakbul shook his head.
“Hehehehe, let it be. Isn’t this entertaining?”
As Beop-gak’s expression seemed to say, “Well, I suppose so…”
On the arena, Adu was stomping forward like an enraged bull.
“Yang Hwi!”
‘With that massive frame combined with his excited momentum, he’s practically a beast.’
Though a beast posed no real threat to a warrior who had transcended the peak realm.
Adu was different.
He charged with thunderous weight, yet moved with a speed that rivaled any wild beast.
“Hyaaaaaah!”
I assessed his stance.
A straightforward preparation for a direct punch.
So this bastard planned to teach me a lesson with the Dharma Fist too?
‘Actually, I like it. This is getting more interesting.’
A peak-realm swordsman and a fist master clashing with third-rate street-level martial arts instead of their true techniques?
The crowd had no choice but to be thrilled.
“Come on then!”
Dharma Fist, First Form—Dharma’s Walking Step.
A straightforward punch, as direct as the footsteps of an enlightened sage.
Fist met fist in a head-on collision.
BOOM!
“Ugh, the dust!”
“Eek!”
“Close your eyes!”
The shockwave rippled across the vast arena, reaching even the spectators seated farthest away.
Yang Hwi almost frowned but managed to control his expression.
‘Damn, this crude bastard. Why is he so hard?’
I too possessed a perfected body, refined through the natural and correct cultivation of Seon-gi’s techniques.
Even the Great Sea Dragon King himself had said that one might not achieve a complete metamorphosis upon surpassing the peak realm.
‘As expected, Adu has the edge when it comes to physical cultivation.’
It couldn’t be helped.
There was a saying that “all martial arts under heaven originate from Shaolin,” and while Shaolin possessed countless techniques, the temple art that represented Shaolin above all others was the Sinew Metamorphosis Scripture.
In other words, it was external cultivation.
‘No doubt he’s already achieved perfect unity of internal and external.’
Simply put, he was a living mass of vital energy in motion.
Of course, since my cultivation hadn’t yet reached the level of manipulating vital energy, he would still be stronger than my current state.
…But it’s true that my cultivation still falls short, right?
‘With someone like Adu, it’s difficult to discern his actual realm.’
Because I possessed the perception of the greatest under heaven, I was adept at reading vital energy, but realm was different.
Martial realm wasn’t something revealed by energy alone.
Well, even if that bastard had reached the same realm as me, it wouldn’t matter.
No, it would actually be better.
‘I must grow stronger.’
In the early days of my return, unlike my past life, I had chosen to go back to build a far larger and more resilient vessel.
I could have reached peak condition around age ten if I’d rushed, but I deliberately delayed it by several years.
Thus, I had laid the foundation to obtain far greater martial power than in my previous life.
‘Yet it’s insufficient. Woefully so.’
I had witnessed the Cheonma’s strength firsthand.
Moreover, according to Yeo Dong-bin, it wasn’t even his true self—merely a fragment.
To defeat such a monster, I too had to become a monster of equal strength.
Here’s one thing.
What does a warrior need to grow stronger?
A worthy rival.
‘Adu, you bastard, show me. What is the martial art of thousand-year Shaolin? How far can you climb with your mere sprout of a form?’
In that instant, Adu’s expression changed.
How to describe it—from pure rage, it shifted slightly toward something closer to competitive spirit.
It was a transformation as if I had read his mind.
“Right arm strike!”
“Dharma Fist, First Form. High Monk Chasing Flies.”
A technique like a venerable monk swatting away a fly.
My right fist and Adu’s right fist extended in horizontal arcs and collided.
Boom!
A shockwave far more powerful than the first form.
Adu’s body was pushed back one step; mine was pushed back two.
‘The difference in build is unavoidable.’
“This time, I’ll go first!”
Dharma Fist, Third Form. Monk’s Tea Cup.
Like tea water splashing from a monk’s cup into the air.
An upward strike of the same principle.
A body as large as his meant that no matter how swift, gaps would inevitably emerge.
Unless a vast difference in skill could seal those openings.
My fist struck Adu’s jaw with full force.
Crack!
The technique connected, yet instead of exultation, I laughed in hollow disbelief.
“Damn it, if you were human, you’d be knocked unconscious from a jaw strike like that.”
Adu’s head hadn’t budged an inch.
It remained motionless, as though anchored by iron.
“Yang Hwi. My turn now.”
The fourth technique of Dharma Palm—Ascension Strike.
A movement as gentle as an old monk tapping a young novice’s forehead.
Yet because it was Adu executing it, the force carried the weight of a massive boulder tumbling down a mountainside.
‘If I take that on my forehead like Adu did, my skull will ring like a bell.’
Perhaps it would shatter like pottery instead.
That cannot happen.
Waist Rebound Evasion. My torso arcs like a drawn bow.
My head lifts as the sky comes into view.
Dark clouds hung thick overhead, as if rain might fall at any moment.
On this momentous day, the weather had to be gloomy.
I wish the rain would pour and clear away before the sun blazes bright again and the victor is decided.
Gi-cheon Step, Illusory Fragmentation.
My form split into multiple afterimages.
The first shadow took Adu’s fist to its forehead, but the final shadow completed a full arc through empty space and landed five paces away.
Crash!
Adu withdrew his fist from the blue stone of the arena, which now bore a hole.
Then he laughed heartily.
“I won!”
I too grinned and replied.
“Indeed. You won. Challenging a Shaolin fist master with fist techniques was foolish of me, as expected.”
I readily admitted that my earlier declaration had been reckless.
Considering I needed to become the most renowned Jeil-ryong in history, it was poor judgment.
‘In any case, Adu cannot win as overwhelmingly as Hyeon Geom did.’
The reason was simple.
If he did, Hyeon Geom and Adu would be considered equals.
I could not allow the Shaman and Shaolin to be treated as equivalent in any form.
If that happened, it would not diminish Shaolin’s standing but rather elevate the Shaman’s position.
‘If I’m already at the Shaman sect and can defeat Shaolin’s greatest talent, and I start spouting nonsense that Hyeon Geom fought well too, it will become a headache.’
So first, I would show the appearance of taking a hit, then reverse the momentum in the very next exchange.
It was time to draw my sword.
“Adu. From now on, let us match as swordsman against fist master.”
As I finished speaking, I raised my hand and the blade I had thrown far away spun with a sharp whistle before landing perfectly in my grip.
A brief, crisp sound erupted in that instant.
It was a flawless display of mid-air weapon retrieval, executed with complete mastery.
Grasping the sword hilt and drawing it, the blade revealed itself—gleaming white and cold, radiating an icy light.
“Let’s begin.”
“Yes!”
Typically, when a swordsman and a martial artist spar, the swordsman swings the blade while the martial artist evades and drives in their fists.
Before reaching a certain level of mastery, flesh cannot withstand a sword’s edge.
But Shaolin is different.
Golden light surged through Adu’s entire body—both hands, every limb.
‘The Diamond Immovable Divine Art.’
If the pinnacle of Shaolin’s external cultivation is the Muscle-Changing Classic, then the internal arts crown the Diamond Immovable as supreme.
Countless Shaolin techniques—the Prajna Great Power, the Lotus Rank Nine Grades—all belong to the Diamond Immovable lineage.
‘There’s no way I can lose.’
-Keeeeee!
My left and right hawks began to cry out.
Simultaneously, a pure white, crystalline energy surged from my entire being.
Hwa-cheon Seon-gi—the Harmony of Heaven’s Immortal Qi.
“I’ve crushed Namgung. Surpassed the Shaman sect. Now let’s see what Shaolin can do.”
“Yes! This will be fun!”
Just moments ago, his expression had been fierce as a yaksha demon, but now it had brightened completely.
This is why I love Adu.
Gae-cheon-bak-pal-geom, Cheon-ik Ap-bong!
I began with a light thrust as my opening move.
Years ago, I would have reserved this technique for the final, desperate moment, but now it served merely as a probing first strike.
“Bori!”
The flesh imbued with golden light blocked even the sword’s qi.
In truth, against any swordsman below the peak realm, Adu was essentially invulnerable.
“Now it’s my turn, isn’t it?”
Prajna Great Power, Hundred-Step Divine Fist.
Adu took a horse stance and drove out a straight punch; a fist-shaped golden aura surged forward.
Since Adu had stood his ground without evading, I had to shatter this offensive in turn.
-Keeeeee!
The hawk’s cry. With it came the function of the Righteous Harmony Great Technique.
My trembling blade carved through the fist energy, splitting it apart, severing it, reducing it to fragments.
I even absorbed some of it.
“That’s not enough. You know it. I’m not some weakling like Namgung Cheon-yeong.”
“Yes! I’ll go harder!”
Gae-cheon-bak-pal-geom, Second Sequence.
Cheon-ik Ap-cheon-ha!
Hundred-Step Divine Fist, Arhat Mandala Carving!
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Blade and fist clash against one another.
Martial force collides with martial force.
Relentless explosions of sound. Fragments of shattered energy scattered in all directions, forcing the masters present to step forward and shield the spectators.
Exchange after exchange. The techniques came so ferociously that one could not discern individual moves.
“You call that a blade? Why won’t it pierce through?”
“Hehehehe! This is fun! Doesn’t even hurt!”
“You bastard, want me to really make it hurt?”
“Try it!”
Dual Hundred-Eight Transformation Heaven, one move’s variation, Dual Wings Dominating Heaven!
Prajna Great Power, Bodhi’s Single Sweep Shatters Demons!
Ordinarily, the martial arena was elevated roughly one foot above ground level.
But the martial arena could no longer be called an arena in any conventional sense.
Soil and stone scattered in all directions, the ground progressively sinking deeper with each passing moment.
“….”
“Is this truly a clash between late-stage masters?”
“Extraordinary. Truly extraordinary.”
Everyone could not help but realize it. The martial prowess of these two late-stage masters had already reached the point where they could reshape the very terrain.
Thus half a double-hour passed. A span of time filled with collisions of white light and golden radiance.
“Huff. Huff.”
“Huff, hehe, huff, huff.”
Yang Hwi leaned on his blade like a staff, his gaze fixed upon Adu.
Adu stood on both feet with his arms hanging loosely at his sides, regarding me with an exhausted expression.
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re definitely strong.”
“Thanks! Yang Hwi’s strong too. But, Yang Hwi.”
“What.”
“You’re not going to use everything?”
“….”
This bastard’s perception is sharp.
I did not respond. I had no desire for it to become known to those around us.
Yang Hwi was not fighting at full strength.
More precisely, it was a constraint I had imposed upon myself for this match.
‘I’ve already defied the passage of time itself. Why would I exhaust my full power against a true late-stage master like you?’
To defeat Cheonma, I must be able to endure constraints of this magnitude.
And if you ever overcome me on a day when I’ve unleashed everything, well, that would simply become a new goal to strive toward.
“If you’re frustrated, then win. If you think you’ll lose, I’ll unleash it all.”
That was when it happened.
Patter, tap-tap.
I thought my cheek might have been grazed by a stray fragment of fist energy I failed to block, but it was merely raindrops.
Rain was falling.
Patter. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.
A torrential downpour cascaded from the heavens, drenching my clothes in an instant, while water began pooling across the cracked and cratered surface of the martial stage.
In truth, the entire arena was rapidly becoming one vast puddle.
“Adu.”
“Huh?”
“I believe I’ve won this.”
“What? I’m going to win!”
“No. That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s raining.”
I continued with a smirk.
“Have you forgotten? I’m Eum Hu’s disciple.”
Gae-cheon-bak-pal-geom’s new ultimate technique.
Hawk’s Cry Resonates, Water Union.
The environment was perfectly suited to employ this water technique I had created alongside Eum Hu.

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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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