Chapter 1585: So, Who Exactly Are You Talking About? (Part 5)

Jang Ilso wiped the blood flowing from his lips with his sleeve, the motion slow and deliberate.

Beopjeong's gaze, directed at him, was infinitely heavy.

"That's far enough, Paegun."

The voice, as heavy as the gaze, echoed, but in Jang Ilso's eyes, looking at him, there was a light contempt and mocking disdain.

"Hmm, words are probably unnecessary anyway."

From the moment they faced each other, there was only one thing left.

Whatever their intentions, whatever hidden motives they had, it didn't matter.

If Beopjeong killed Jang Ilso, he would become a hero who prevented the chaos of Kangho. Conversely, if Jang Ilso killed Beopjeong, he would be evaluated as the conqueror (梟雄) who trampled the Ten Great Sects for the first time in the history of the Evil Sect, having assassinated the Shaolin Sect Leader. Any hidden intentions thereafter were meaningless. What remained was just a simple outcome—whose hand would grasp the other's head first.

"It seems we both need each other, doesn't it?"

As Beopjeong's tone became more explicit, Jang Ilso seemed to like it, letting out a light laugh.

"Maybe you need my neck, but do I need your old, empty head? What use would it be?"

Beopjeong's eyebrows twitched momentarily. Even though he was the Sect Leader of Shaolin, where on earth had he experienced such a vicious insult? It might be called the Evil Sect's provocation, but the man's audacity went beyond limits.

"What I 'need' is not something like that. Even what I 'want' is not like that."

"...Then what do you want, Paegun?"

Jang Ilso's fingertips, drying up with blood, trembled slightly.

"Well, you probably can't give me that. But at least entertainment will do. When your dignified mask is ripped off, I'm curious about what expression you'll make."

"Amitabhul."

Beopjeong chanted. Again, further conversation was meaningless. Both Beopjeong and Jang Ilso knew that.

Silently.

Beopjeong's grip slowly tightened. It enveloped enough space in his hand, as if grabbing empty air. Like a fistful of air, he held it in his hand.

Shaolin's distinctive fist. A fist containing mercy of suppression, abandoning the intention to harm the opponent. No matter who the villain is, Shaolin's fist does not change.

But in Beopjeong's eyes, as he casually held his fist, there was a strange emptiness.

Was there meaning in it?

Was Buddhist perfection infinite, and its teachings endless? Was not pleading for mercy to the man such a futile thing?

At this moment, was the reason why he felt everything he had believed and learned throughout his life to be useless because Buddhism was not complete? Or was it because his learning was still endlessly insufficient?

Beopjeong couldn't know. Just...

Squeeze.

He slightly tightened his fist. Counting how many times he had exchanged fists with someone was impossible. It was now so distant that he couldn't remember.

It seemed to have been over ten years since he had a decisive battle over life and death and even a light sparring.

In his lifetime, he never imagined there would be an opportunity to decide life and death with someone.

Once called the divine fist of Song Mountain, his martial arts that gathered praise from all over the world, did it fade away?

Perhaps that man would answer that question.

"You're taking quite a while to prepare. Is imminent death making your fists heavy?"

Beopjeong had such a time too. The time when he believed he could achieve anything, do whatever he wanted. But as he experienced the passage of time, he finally learned. If you truly want to achieve something, you have to know how to wait patiently.

"Just a moment. Just one step."

"Hmm?"

"Your inability to endure that was your fault, Paegun."

Tuwoong.

As soon as the words ended, Beopjeong's foot lightly touched the ground.

It was not the strong stepping characteristic of Shaolin but a light step as if casually thrown. At the same time, the fist naturally followed, like water flowing. Truly, a simple extension.

Tuwoooooong!

At that moment, Jang Ilso's large body was quickly thrown backward as if struck by a giant hammer. His head leaned back as if it might break.

"That...!"

Those who were watching couldn't even shout properly, shocked by the scene.

'Qi Gong?'

The realm that any martial artist who knows how to handle internal energy eventually reaches. The foundation for spreading internal energy beyond the empty air.

If you only looked at this, it wasn't that impressive.

What was astonishing was not Qi Gong itself, but the fact that such a powerful Qi Gong could be unleashed with just a casual gesture.

How strong must one's internal energy be, and how deep must one understand martial arts to perform such an absurd attack?

And... if someone could unleash such power with just Qi Gong, how strong must the internal energy be when they purposefully use their power!

Ggu-ggu-gguuuuk!

Jang Ilso's foot dug into the ground, creating traces as if plowing. After retreating for a while, Jang Ilso slowly straightened his waist, which had bent as if it would break.

Drip.

Fresh blood oozed from Jang Ilso's lips. It looked strange and exaggerated.

"Amitabhul."

As if not shaken by that peculiarity, Beopjeong expressed his displeasure solemnly. Other disciples of the Evil Sect were all overwhelmed by his appearance.

Beopjeong, the leader of Shaolin.

The power that was once called the Divine Fist of Song Mountain (嵩山神拳) was now revealed to the world exactly as it was. One couldn't help but hold their breath and tremble at the formidable presence.

"There are three poisons that make life a sea of suffering."

"..."

"Greed (貪慾), anger (瞋恚), and ignorance (愚癡). You coveted what you shouldn't have, harbored envy and jealousy for everything in the world."

Jang Ilso's eyes glowed with a deep blue vitality.

"Greed and anger... Then ignorance. What foolishness is mine? What did I not know?"

"You should have known. The world you live in is not everything."

"Hahahahahaha!"

Jang Ilso burst into laughter as if he heard a very great joke.

"..."

"You are dying because... of that repulsiveness, pretending to be dignified even deceiving yourself."

Jang Ilso laughed brightly.

"Do you understand?"

That was the signal.

Bang!

Kwaaang!

Jang Ilso and Beopjeong's feet simultaneously struck the ground.

The Fist of Evil and the Fist of Righteousness.

Their fists roared fiercely towards each other.

Kwaaaa!

A storm of rough energy swept in all directions. Those who were fighting each other stopped, turning their heads, feeling the fluctuating golden aura and the blue malevolence.

Everyone there sensed who the owners of those two energies were.

The Fist of Evil and the Fist of Righteousness. The two had faced each other for a life-and-death struggle. It was an opportunity to witness such a match, rare in any era. Moreover, whether strong or weak, those who studied martial arts were all enchanted by the single character, 'martial'. Their gaze kept shifting in that direction.

But unfortunately, this was a battlefield.

"Aaaaaaargh!"

Someone regained their senses and swung a sword, claiming a life that had been hanging in the balance.

The final blow sounded like the shattering ceramics as it spread, breaking the momentarily frozen battlefield.

"Dieeee!"

"This filthy Evil Sect scum!"

Bloodied blades clashed again, and boiling blood scattered in all directions.

Despite the unprecedented showdown taking place right next to them, no one could focus on it.

There were those who valued their lives, those swept away by the madness of the battlefield, and those loyal to fallen orders. All had no choice but to concentrate on cutting, stabbing, and tearing apart those in front of them.

Thus, in the midst of so many people, the momentous life-and-death struggle unfolded paradoxically in profound solitude.

Kwoong!

Fist met fist. Beopjeong's Fist, imbued with golden energy, effortlessly repelled Jang Ilso's fist surrounded by blue energy.

"Amitabhul!"

Beopjeong's fist instantly drew dozens of traces of Qi in the air.

Demon-Subduing Golden Vajra Fist! (降魔金剛拳)

Golden radiance the size of bodies flew towards Jang Ilso at a dazzling speed.

Thud.

Jang Ilso swayed unsteadily as if he were intoxicated. The Qi traces fluttered around, intending to tear apart his robe, but they couldn't touch his body. Jang Ilso skillfully avoided all the flying powers.

However, it was too early to breathe a sigh of relief.

Kwaaaang!

At that moment, an enormous shock struck Jang Ilso's chest.

"Kuk!"

Retreating, he spat out fresh blood. The Back-Subduing Fist, the Fist that dared to be named 'Divine Fist (神拳)' as it unfolded immediately after the Demon-Subduing Golden Vajra Fist, distorted the Qi, forcing it to spread before fully collapsing. Beopjeong concentrated on speed rather than power, intent on not giving his opponent a chance to evade. It was an extended Fist that successfully achieved that intention.

Kwoooong!

Now, adding more power, the Back-Subduing Fist unfolded consecutively. Every time Jang Ilso kicked the ground and evaded the attacks, the ground beneath him sank deeply as if it were struck by meteors.

"Hah!"

Jang Ilso opened his eyes wide, laughed, and spread his hands wide. The rings on his fingers, imbued with inner power, rotated fiercely, charging towards Beopjeong.

However!

"Amitabul."

Bang! Tatatatang!

Not a single ring touched Beopjeong's body. It was due to the energy emitted from Beopjeong's fingertips. Beopjeong's renowned Finger Divine Energy (彈指神通) effortlessly deflected all the rings flying towards him.

The speed at which the rings flew, deflected by the energy, was faster than arrows shot from a strong bow—an unimaginable feat.

In the face of such a tremendous spectacle, even Jang Ilso couldn't help but widen his eyes.

Tooong!

Beopjeong's foot lightly tapped the ground. Simultaneously, his body divided into nine, each assuming a posture symbolizing a different Buddha (佛畵).

It was a spectacle as if painting the disharmony of the world on a canvas of chaos—a scene where the ascension technique, Nine Lotus Platforms (蓮臺九品), which could only be mastered by reaching the utmost limit, was vividly recreated through Beopjeong's body.

Kuwung!

Appearing right in front of Jang Ilso, Beopjeong pushed his chest.

Bang!

But the title of Paegun Jang Ilso was not just for show.

His senses, heightened to the extreme, responded faithfully even to Beopjeong's unimaginable attacks. His crossed wrist, or more precisely, the bracelet above it, blocked Beopjeong's palm completely.

At that moment, Beopjeong's hand, which had bent like a dragon talon, firmly gripped Jang Ilso's bracelet.

Bang!

Before long, his energy penetrated Jang Ilso's stomach.

With his right hand, Beopjeong grabbed the bracelet and pulled it, while with his left hand, he struck Jang Ilso's chest.

Despite the shock that twisted his internal organs, at that moment, Jang Ilso violently twisted his head as if he had been hit in the face instead of the stomach.

Paaat!

White energy narrowly grazed Jang Ilso's cheek.

One Finger Zen (一指禪).

Beopjeong, who had suppressed Jang Ilso's hand with the Dragon-Binding Hand (縛龍手), momentarily opened his hand, dismissing the energy of the One Finger Zen.

At the eccentric attack, blood began to spread from Jang Ilso's cheek.

But Beopjeong's assault did not end.

Bang!

Beopjeong kneed Jang Ilso's inner thigh. Simultaneously, with momentum like a mountain, he crashed his shoulder into Jang Ilso.

Kuuuuung!

A sound like a giant mountain collapsing reverberated, and Jang Ilso's body was thrown backward.

"A―mi―ta―bhul!"

Having taken control, Beopjeong, who had thrown Jang Ilso backward, extended his palm towards him.

The golden palm shadows (掌影) increased in size in an instant, then flew towards Jang Ilso like the hand of the Guanyin (觀音), the bodhisattva that eliminates demons.

Quaaaaang!

With a terrifying explosion, a massive shockwave swept in all directions.