Ultimate Martial Venerable - Chapter 14

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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 14. Today, I Will Not Bow My Head
“I will take the martial match.”

Yuk Beom’s voice rang out clearly into the silence that had settled over the Yuk Clan’s section.
Yuk Ho and Yuk Ho Yeon both turned to look at him at once.
Yuk Myeong, who sat nursing his injuries, let out a hollow laugh first.

“You?”

He swept his gaze over Yuk Beom’s worn clothes and scarred body.

“You’re at the sixth stage of Yeon Che Gong. How do you expect to block Mak Un Bi’s fists? You won’t last a single exchange once you step up there.”

Three months ago, during the selection tournament, Yuk Beom’s realm had been confirmed at the sixth stage. No one knew what training he had done on Seo Mountain since then.
Yuk Pung gripped his son’s shoulder.

“Yuk Myeong, that’s enough.”
“Am I wrong, sir? On that stone platform, we cannot blame anyone for what happens.”

Yuk Beom answered calmly.

“I know.”

That composure only inflamed Yuk Myeong’s anger further.

“Then beat me first.”

Yuk Myeong suddenly threw out his fist.
A punch backed by the eighth stage of Yeon Che Gong flew toward Yuk Beom’s face.
Thud.
Yuk Beom caught the fist with only his hand, without rising from his seat.
Yuk Myeong tried to pull his arm free, but it wouldn’t budge—as if it had been pinned in place.
Yuk Beom shook his wrist lightly.
Boom!
The impact rippled through Yuk Myeong’s arm and slammed him back into his chair. When Yuk Beom released his grip, five deep finger marks had been burned red into Yuk Myeong’s knuckles.

“You should stay seated and rest for now.”

Yuk Myeong could only stare between his own hand and Yuk Beom, unable to speak.
Among the commotion around the Stone Platform, those of the Yuk Clan sitting nearby saw plainly what had just happened. Subduing an injured Yuk Myeong was not what astounded them. Yuk Beom had not even risen from his seat, nor had there been the slightest sign that he had exerted any force at all.
Yuk Ho Yeon’s eyes shone bright.

“Do we have a chance?”
“We do.”

This time, no one laughed.
Yuk Ho studied his son’s eyes for a moment, then nodded.

“Beom says he can do it. Let us entrust this to him.”
“Good. I’ll leave today’s martial match to you.”

On the stone platform, younger members of the smaller clans were trading blows. Most were at the fifth or sixth stage of Yeon Che Gong, and victory was decided within a handful of exchanges.
Mak Cheon looked toward the Yuk Clan’s section as if bored.

“Elder Yuk. Have you chosen your representative? Whoever steps forward will lose anyway. Why ruin another person unnecessarily? Why not just leave?”

Yuk Ho Yeon set down his cup.

“If you’re so confident, then let’s make a wager.”
“What stakes did you have in mind?”
“If the Mak Family wins, I’ll hand over two of the Yuk Clan’s shops in Ganglim Castle.”

A low murmur rippled through the crowd.
A smile spread across Mak Cheon’s lips.

“I’ll choose which shops.”
“Agreed. In return, if the Yuk Clan wins, surrender the Mak Family’s Small Destruction Fist.

It belongs to us.”

A Heaven Grade martial technique—the Mak Family’s secret art.
Mak Cheon glanced at the wounded Yuk Myeong and Yuk Beom in turn, then nodded without hesitation.

“I accept.”

Jang Am added his own wager to the pot—twenty thousand gold coins—but Mak Cheon raised him to one hundred thousand, and after a glance from Jang Wol Ham, Jang Am finally agreed.
Three contract scrolls were drawn up, each bearing the seal of a clan patriarch.
Yuk Ho Yeon turned to look at Yuk Beom.

“I have no intention of losing those two shops. Show me everything you’ve been holding back. If you win, the Small Destruction Fist is yours.”

Yuk Beom understood—his grandfather was giving him a new martial technique to strive for.

“I will bring it home, sir.”

Yuk Ho did not discourage the dangerous wager. He knew his son was not the sort to ask for blind trust lightly. When Yuk Beom said he could do something, the preparation was already complete.
As the matches between the smaller families were drawing to a close, Mak Hong from the Mak Family ascended the Stone Platform.

His angular face, thick neck, and muscles visible even beneath his robes conjured the image of a bear. He was the Mak Family’s finest young martial artist after Mak Un Bi.
Mak Hong brought down the remaining Seo Family contestant with three punches, then spread both arms wide.

“Who’s next!”

At the aura of someone approaching the eighth tier of Yeon Che Gong, the younger members of the smaller families averted their eyes.
Yuk Beom rose to his feet.
Rolling his neck and shoulders, he stepped lightly onto the Stone Platform.
The moment his face appeared, laughter erupted.

“The Yuk Clan is really sending that boy out?”
“Wasn’t he just reaching the sixth tier of Yeon Che Gong a few months ago?”
“One punch from Mak Hong and he’ll be flying down the mountainside.”

Jang Am laughed in disbelief as well.

“Is that boy truly in his right mind?”

A faint smile crossed Jang Wol Ham’s lips. Her eyes held a moment of pity as she regarded Yuk Beom, then it faded.
Mak Hong laughed, clutching his belly.

“You’re going to fight me?”

Only Mak Cheon was not laughing.
He was staring at the scars covering Yuk Beom’s body—shallow and deep scars, marks where flesh had been torn and healed, burns from flame stippling both his arms and chest.
These were the marks only of someone who had been injured countless times, recovered, and driven themselves to the edge of their limits.
Mak Cheon’s gaze hardened slowly.
Yuk Beom addressed Mak Hong.

“Are you finished laughing?”

Mak Hong’s laughter cut off.

“Then let’s begin.”
“If you’re so eager to die, I’ll oblige!”

Mak Hong’s feet tore into the ground.
His massive frame hurtled forward, and gravel from the Stone Platform scattered in all directions. A fist came screaming through the air, wind churning in its wake, aimed straight at Yuk Beom’s face.
For Yuk Beom, it was slow.
There was no pressure from the Waterfall, no crushing weight of a thousand pounds from the Bongryeok Seok. He could see Mak Hong’s next move clearly laid out before him.
Yuk Beom’s legs moved first, before the fist could land.
Thud!
His heel drove straight into Mak Hong’s abdomen.

“Ugh!”

The massive body tumbled across the stone, rolling several times until it skidded to the platform’s edge.
The laughter that had filled the air moments before vanished like a lie.
Mak Hong staggered to his feet, and when he saw the black footprint burned into his belly, his face twisted with rage.

“You brat!”

He threw his arms wide and launched himself skyward.

“Flying Tiger Fist

!”

Like a great beast descending on prey, Mak Hong’s body plummeted toward Yuk Beom.
Yuk Beom shifted back half a step, twisting at the waist.
His leg extended long and whipped through the air like a lash, the sole of his foot glowing red as it cracked across Mak Hong’s cheek with perfect precision.
Crack!
Mak Hong flew sideways and slammed into the Stone Platform. The stone cracked beneath him, fissures splintering outward in every direction.
He did not rise again.
Two kicks.
That was all it took to fell a warrior of the Mak Family, one who stood near the eighth stage of the Yeon Che Gong.
The faces of those who had laughed at him drained white. Those who had pointed began to lower their gazes hastily, desperate to avoid meeting his eyes.
Just months ago, this boy had been the laughingstock of Ganglim Castle. And now that same Yuk Beom had ended one of the Mak Family’s strong men with two kicks. Against the sight unfolding before them, there was no excuse—not even claims that the rumors had been exaggerated.
Yuk Ho’s laughter shattered the silence.

“Hahahaha!”

From the force of his two kicks alone, Yuk Beom had clearly surpassed the eighth stage of the Yeon Che Gong.
The younger generation of the Yuk Clan erupted in cheers.

“Yuk Beom!”
“Yuk Beom has won!”

Jang Wol Ham could not tear her gaze from Yuk Beom on the Stone Platform. Her fingertips trembled without her knowing.

“What troubles you?”

At Jang Am’s question, she withdrew her eyes.

“It’s nothing.”

The people of the Mak Family carried the unconscious Mak Hong away.
Mak Cheon turned to his grandson.

“Mak Un Bi. Go up there and finish him. Hold nothing back.”

Mak Un Bi understood what he meant. Yuk Beom was no longer a figure of mockery. If he wasn’t stopped now, he would become a threat to the Mak Family.
He leaped onto the Stone Platform.

“You’ve hidden your depth well. I’ve underestimated you.”

Yuk Beom clenched his fists calmly.

“That day at the Marketplace, I said it. Next time, I won’t bow my head.”

Mak Un Bi’s lips twisted.

“You think you can beat me?”
“I already have.”

Both men kicked off the ground simultaneously.
Small Destruction Fist.
Collapsing Mountain Fist.
Boom!
Fist met fist at the center of the Stone Platform, and a fierce gust erupted between them.
Mak Un Bi’s pupils trembled.
He’d unleashed the Mak Family’s secret technique from the start, yet Yuk Beom’s Collapsing Mountain Fist didn’t yield an inch. If anything, the force coursing through his arm shook his shoulder.
Both men threw their left hands forward simultaneously.
Crack! Thud!
Mak Un Bi’s fist drove into Yuk Beom’s chest. In the same instant, Yuk Beom’s fist whipped across Mak Un Bi’s cheek.
Mak Un Bi staggered back three full paces.
Yuk Beom retreated only half a step and regained his balance immediately. A crimson light flickered beneath his skin and vanished.
Yuk Ho Yeon cried out without thinking.

“Excellent!”

That a Human Grade technique had withstood a Heaven Grade technique meant there was a vast gulf between them in raw physical power.
A roar erupted from the Yuk Clan side.

“Yuk Beom, knock him down!”
“The Yuk Clan prevails!”

Yuk Myeong watched the scene unfold with a pallid face. The strength he’d taken pride in, his position as the first of the Yuk Clan’s younger generation—neither belonged to him anymore.
Mak Un Bi wiped the blood from his lips and shifted his stance.
The moment his feet skimmed the ground, his body became light as a leaf scattering on the wind.

Fluttering Leaf Transcendent Body Method.

Mak Un Bi’s form wavered side to side, then vanished from sight.
Yuk Beom threw his fist, but it sliced only empty air.
Crack!
A fist struck his ribs from behind. The moment Yuk Beom spun around, Mak Un Bi had already slipped away to the opposite side.
Another fist shot up from below.
Yuk Beom raised his arm to block, but the fist transformed into an open palm mid-strike, changing trajectory. The palm spiraled around and slammed into his chest.
Mak Un Bi disappeared before he could be caught, attacking only from gaps in Yuk Beom’s defense.
Blows rained down on his chest and ribs in succession. He could endure them with the Blazing Gold Body, but against an unseen opponent landing blow after blow, he would inevitably crumble.
Yuk Beom found himself increasingly on the defensive.
The Mak Family’s young men shouted Mak Un Bi’s name in unison, and a smile bloomed again on Mak Cheon’s face.
Jang Wol Ham watched the Stone Platform in silence.
She wanted Yuk Beom to lose. If he were to collapse here, she could convince herself that her choice to leave had not been wrong.
Mak Un Bi was certain of victory.

“It’s finished!”

The fluttering movement stilled.
The force of the Small Destruction Fist gathered in both fists and poured down toward Yuk Beom’s chest.
In that instant, a red light erupted across Yuk Beom’s entire body.
Whoosh!
Hot steam rose from his heated skin.
Bang!
Both fists struck Yuk Beom’s chest.
Yet his body did not waver.
The rebound, as though hitting solid stone, sent a violent tremor through Mak Un Bi’s arms.

“What—!”

Yuk Beom’s hands seized Mak Un Bi’s arms.
Sizzle!
With the sound of flesh burning, Mak Un Bi cried out.

“Blazing Gold Body!”

Mak Cheon shot to his feet.
Yuk Beom held fast to the man’s arms, preventing escape, and drew his right fist back.
Over the force that had shattered the rocks of Seo Mountain, the flames of the Blazing Gold Body overlapped.

“This time, you won’t escape.”

The burning fist drove forward.

Blazing Collapsing Mountain Fist!

Crash!
The fist struck the center of Mak Un Bi’s face.
Smoke and embers exploded, and Mak Un Bi’s body flew three lengths beyond and crashed into the edge of the Stone Platform. Pale smoke curled from his face, and his body lay motionless.
Below the Stone Platform fell into complete silence.
Even the people of the Yuk Clan forgot to cheer, their eyes fixed only on Yuk Beom.
He had combined the Blazing Gold Body and the Collapsing Mountain Fist into one entirely new strike.
Yuk Ho Yeon clenched his fist and cried out in rapid succession.

“Excellent! Magnificent! Truly magnificent!”

Yuk Ho trembled throughout his entire frame.
Yuk Beom moved toward Mak Un Bi.
No declaration of victory had yet been made.
The moment he raised his fist for one final blow, a black shadow leaped onto the Stone Platform.
Mak Cheon blocked himself between the two.
The old man’s face held not a trace of a smile.

“Enough.”

He ground out the words.

“The Mak Family has lost this match.”

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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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