Descent of The Demon Master [EN]: Chapter 1912

In martial arts, there’s always a fundamental dilemma: should one pursue the ultimate destructive power, or prioritize landing a blow on the opponent? Most martial arts find a compromise somewhere in the middle, but even then, there’s always a direction they lean towards. The Hwangbo Clan, where Pakwon was born, was a school that prioritized destructive power. They overwhelm opponents with powerful inner energy and overbearing force, crushing them in one go. However, Pakwon was someone who couldn’t shake off his doubts about that method. No matter how strong an attack is, it’s meaningless if it doesn’t land. An attack only becomes an attack when it touches the opponent’s body. Otherwise, it’s no different from a meaningless gesture swung into empty air. The power to shatter mountains, the sword strikes that split the sea—if they don’t reach the enemy’s flesh, they’re just a waste of power. From a young age, the question that never left his mind eventually led him to reject his family’s teachings. Amidst the pouring criticism, physical violence, and relentless pressure, he forged his own path. The fist he completed that way. Movements as small as possible, with no wasted motion. Deflecting the opponent’s attacks with minimal movement, and using the time gained from that minimal motion to move one step ahead of the opponent. In modern times, it’s an extremely obvious principle. But in the past, it wasn’t so obvious. Humans with inner energy could kill an opponent with a single blow, and shatter an enemy’s insides even through solid armor. So, it was considered the norm to obsess over stronger attacks. But that norm was completely broken by Pakwon’s fist. A fist that didn’t even have a name. A fist that was completed solely for him, and therefore could not be passed on to anyone else. This fist technique was Pakwon’s pride and everything. But now. That pride is being shattered to pieces. Fwaaaat! The sound of his fist cutting through the air is as sharp as the crack of a whip’s end striking the void. And then, a barrage of follow-up attacks. He draws out all the power contained in every single muscle fiber. He even stops breathing as he squeezes out his inner energy and physical strength, unleashing a barrage of attacks as precise as interlocking gears. A relentless assault that doesn’t give the opponent even the slightest opening. Those exposed to this fist attack usually die in a mangled mess, without even attempting a counterattack. But…. The scene before Pakwon’s eyes now was not the one he knew so well. Tap! Tap! A hand waving around like a child’s play. There’s no discernible pattern, and no precision to be seen. It’s like the hand gestures of someone who doesn’t even know what martial arts are, just flailing around haphazardly. But those absurd hand gestures were blocking all of Pakwon’s fist attacks. ‘How?’ No. He knows. The reason is too clear. ‘Kuh!’ He draws out all his strength to increase the speed of his fist. A speed that transcends perception. A skilled boxer’s punch cannot be seen and dodged. The speed at which the fist travels from its starting point to the body is faster than the speed at which the eyes can perceive the fist’s movement and the brain can process it. That’s why boxers react in advance by looking at the premonitory signs of an attack, such as the shoulder and elbow, rather than the fist itself. But his fist is one that has no premonitory signs. Logically, even if one’s body is trained in martial arts to the point of maximizing reflexes, it should be impossible to see and block his fist as it launches. But now, his common sense is being shattered without a trace. Look. Fwaaaat! A fist unleashed after squeezing every last bit of his muscles. But before his fist can even extend, Kang Jin-ho’s hand is already there, waiting where his fist is about to go. ‘How…’ Thud! His fist is caught by Kang Jin-ho’s hand. Pakwon’s eyes trembled, filled with an indescribable light. His fist is a martial art that minimizes all waste. It’s a martial art that prioritizes making contact with the opponent’s body, minimizing everything else. In other words, it’s a martial art that sacrifices all advantages and invests all available resources into speed and consecutive attacks. And yet…. How is it possible to understand that this wasteful, haphazardly swung fist is faster than his own? “Aaaaaaaah!” Pakwon, without realizing it, lets out a shout and unleashes an explosive barrage of attacks. Attacks that don’t look back, as if squeezing out the last drop of his soul. But not a single drop of that rain-like barrage could reach Kang Jin-ho’s body. ‘More! More!’ Perhaps it’s because he’s momentarily drawn out too much inner energy, but his dantian [a point below the navel considered the center of vital energy] feels like it’s tearing apart, and the energy channels throughout his body are screaming. But Pakwon couldn’t stop his attacks. Because he knew too well what it meant for these attacks to stop. “Uwaaaaaaaaaaa!” He knows. Shouting won’t change anything. It will only drain his strength. It’s nothing more than a waste of energy, something he despises the most. But right now, Pakwon couldn’t bear it without shouting. This is a wall of despair. A wall that cannot be broken no matter what he does, a wall that doesn’t even get a scratch no matter how hard he tries. A wall of despair that he cannot possibly overcome with his abilities. Kwaaaang! The power of his fists collide and interlock in a chain reaction. The impact sends Pakwon’s body flying backward. Thud. He didn’t suffer any particularly significant damage. It’s just that he couldn’t continue his barrage of attacks. But Pakwon’s face wore an expression that one might see on someone who had lost their limbs. “Huk, huk, huk, huk…” His entire face is covered in sweat. It’s a rare sight to see someone who has stepped into the realm of a superhuman, beyond the realm of a martial artist, sweating so profusely. But right now, Pakwon was sweating as if he were someone unaccustomed to exercise who had just done a strenuous workout. A heart beating out of control. Limbs that feel looser than a thousand pounds. Shortness of breath. Pakwon, unable to control his trembling hands, stared blankly at Kang Jin-ho. ‘What the hell…’ He had momentarily pushed himself to his limit. But Kang Jin-ho, who had faced his best, looked no different from when they first met. He was just looking at him with calm eyes. Not a single breath out of place, not even a twitch of his fingertips. An overwhelming difference. For Pakwon, who had realized where that difference came from, all that remained was despair. Kang Jin-ho, who had been silently watching Pakwon, opened his mouth. “You’re fast.” Pakwon’s hand wipes away the sweat that soaked his face. ‘Demon Lord.’ He understands why that name was a symbol of despair. He’s strong. Yes, he’s strong. But right now, strength is just a secondary issue. It doesn’t seem like any method will work. Just as a beast living on the ground can’t catch a bird flying in the sky no matter how hard it tries, it doesn’t seem like he can defeat this man no matter what he does. An overwhelming sense of despair. “This…” Pakwon bit his lip until it bled. If he were someone who would succumb to the overwhelming despair that was engulfing him, Pakwon’s reputation would not have been passed down to this day. Even while facing that overwhelming despair, Pakwon raised his fist. ‘That can’t be.’ There is no such thing as absolute in this world. His greatest strength, speed, doesn’t work against the Demon Lord. But that doesn’t mean the fight is over. Fwaaaat! Pakwon rushes towards Kang Jin-ho like a beam of light. ‘Strongly!’ His foot, kicking off the ground, strikes Kang Jin-ho’s head. An attack that sacrifices some speed but is imbued with several times his usual inner energy. Thud! Kang Jin-ho’s slightly raised arm blocks Pakwon’s kick. But Pakwon wasn’t foolish enough to think that he could bring Kang Jin-ho down with this one blow. Fwaat! Fwaaaat! In the air, Pakwon’s feet repeatedly kick Kang Jin-ho’s face. Pakwon, who had created over a dozen afterimages in an instant, shoots downwards as if falling to the ground, without waiting for the sensation of his foot making contact. His elbow plunges down, aiming for Kang Jin-ho’s instep. But just before his elbow touches the instep, Kang Jin-ho’s foot lightly moves back. His elbow, filled with inner energy, slams into the unforgiving floor. Kwaaaaaang! Pakwon slams his arms into the ground and leaps into Kang Jin-ho’s embrace. Leaping into the opponent’s embrace is something impossible without a life-or-death resolve, but Pakwon was certain. ‘Here!’ The distance where he can be most advantageous. That’s the distance where he can maximize his short-range attacks. The distance where they can’t fully extend their fists and can only attack with inch punches. His chance of victory lies right here. ‘Short!’ His muscles tremble, tensed to the limit. Like putting the final dot on a picture drawn with all his might, he puts everything into each and every blow. Fabababak! In an instant, over a dozen inch punches strike Kang Jin-ho’s chest. Strikes that accelerate within a single inch of distance, imbued with all his power and inner energy. To an untrained eye, it might look like a small, tantrum-like tapping, but each of those blows contains the power to turn a large boulder into dust. ‘How is it!’ No matter how much of a Demon Lord he is, he can’t be unaffected by taking this many consecutive blows to the chest. ‘Fall back!’ He might not be able to bring him down with this one barrage, but he will surely try to create distance again. The moment his center of gravity shifts backward, he will chase after him with the intent of leaving not a single strand of inner energy behind and pour out his attacks…. That was the moment. Kwadudududuk! Pakwon’s body flew away like a fired cannonball. Bang! Bang! Bang! His body, slammed into the floor, bounced up, slammed down again, and then slammed down again, until finally, his body lay sprawled on the floor. “Kueueueuk…” Pakwon’s trembling hand clutches his side. He raises his head, which had been buried in the dirt, and sees that his side is caved in, as if he had struck a clay doll. “…Cough!” The moment his attack landed, Kang Jin-ho spun his body like a top and slammed his elbow into his side. ‘That can’t be…’ He can momentarily identify his weakness. He can find an opening. But it’s impossible to perfectly find and execute the most appropriate attack for that opening. This is the kind of attack that only those who have trained in martial arts their entire lives can exchange. As far as he knows, the Demon Lord is not a martial artist. But how…. “Ptooey!” Kang Jin-ho spits out the blood that had pooled in his mouth. It means that his attack had clearly landed a blow. But that fact didn’t give Pakwon any hope. “That one was good.” “Keep going. However…” Kang Jin-ho takes a step forward. At the same time, black demonic energy begins to rise around his body like a cloud. The demonic energy, rising like smoke, swirls around his body. As if black flames were burning his entire body. “Now, it’s my turn.” Kang Jin-ho’s face, wearing a smile that would be terrifying to see in a dream, is covered in black demonic energy. Red, more red than ever. The blood-red light in his eyes pierced Pakwon’s heart.