WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 115: A Master at the Grandmaster Level, You Say
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Wang Gi-neung sincerely thanked the Awe-Inspiring Black Dragon Divine Lord.
Wang Gi-neung had lost everything and could only wait for the Shanghai Wang Family to fall.
Yet Ryu Gang-cheol, the cause of this whole disaster, had not only survived but even come before Wang Gi-neung on his own two feet.
From Wang Gi-neung’s perspective, it was luck that could only be called the blessing of the great progenitor.
“Comrade, I understand why you’re pleased, but... aren’t you forgetting something?”
Of course, someone could only watch Wang Gi-neung’s reaction with mixed feelings.
“Don’t worry about the escort. This time, I’ll personally escort you, so nobody will be able to lay a hand on you.”
“No, not that.”
Ryu Gang-cheol shook his head slightly.
Then, pointing his bloodied knife at Wang Gi-neung, who seemed so elated he had nearly lost his mind, he said,
“I may be a son of a bitch, but I’m a wolf cub that came here to kill you, comrade.”
He was not some mutt Wang Gi-neung could catch whenever Wang Gi-neung pleased. He was a beast that would rip out Wang Gi-neung’s throat with this knife.
So Wang Gi-neung should start taking this seriously.
Ryu Gang-cheol spoke with killing intent.
“Ah, of course I haven’t forgotten that either.”
Yet Wang Gi-neung showed no sign of tension at that chilling warning.
Wang Gi-neung merely grinned.
“I simply didn’t bother because there was no need to.”
“...Don’t you think you’re a bit too confident, comrade?”
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Is that so?”
As though Wang Gi-neung were watching a puppy insist it was a wolf while barking its heart out, Wang Gi-neung wore a relaxed smile.
Ryu Gang-cheol snorted.
Then, gripping his knife in a reverse hold, he spoke coldly.
“Then I suppose I’ll have to give you a reason.”
At that very moment, Ryu Gang-cheol vanished from before Wang Gi-neung’s eyes.
In his place came a blue steel blade swinging for Wang Gi-neung’s neck.
As sharp as a guillotine that could sever a king’s head, yet as stealthy and swift as a mosquito’s proboscis, it was a perfect ambush.
Crunch!
“...?!”
Wang Gi-neung spun like a top.
Wang Gi-neung’s five fingers, clenched like a dragon’s claws, caught the knife blade.
Ryu Gang-cheol’s eyes widened when he saw his knife, a high-level item capable of cutting rock, caught by bare hands wearing not even gloves.
Even then, instinct made the experienced knifeman twist the blade sharply, trying to cut off Wang Gi-neung’s fingers.
But the result was futile.
Creeeak, crack-cr-crack!
“...What are those fingers of yours made of, comrade? They’re harder than a knife containing the feathers of a Blade Hawk in the level 90s.”
“The main ingredients are training and effort.”
Ryu Gang-cheol stared in disbelief at those fingers, which crushed the knife flat like a hydraulic press crushing a junked car.
Wang Gi-neung did not bother explaining how extraordinary the Seventy-Two Martial Arts Schools were, or what kind of ultimate art the Perfect Ten Dragon Claw Style was.
Wang Gi-neung merely charged at Ryu Gang-cheol, swinging their half-curled hands as Ryu Gang-cheol drew a backup knife.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!
“Urgh...!”
The instant Ryu Gang-cheol dodged the fingers aimed at his throat, they suddenly spread out.
Nails bearing a chilling sharpness like blades sliced past his neck.
Before he could even stop the bleeding, a hand reached for his eyes. He blocked it with his knife to keep his eyes from being gouged out.
But that was a misstep.
As though it had been waiting, Wang Gi-neung grabbed the knife. Wang Gi-neung’s fingers crawled upward like writhing snakes and, in one stroke, shattered the wrist holding the knife.
Crack!
That was only the beginning.
Wang Gi-neung pursued him in a crouch and raked his legs.
He deflected Ryu Gang-cheol’s swinging knife with nothing but his fingers.
Wang Gi-neung mercilessly reached for Ryu Gang-cheol’s eyes, nose, mouth, even his groin, trying to seize and tear them apart.
“Ghk?!”
The attacks never stopped.
They were not merely somewhat sturdy fingers or sharp nails.
Wang Gi-neung’s two hands were iron maces weighing a thousand pounds.
Wang Gi-neung’s two arms were living, thrashing whips.
Wang Gi-neung’s ten fingers were bone-crushing hooks, and Wang Gi-neung’s ten nails were flesh-cutting daggers.
It was a realm only a martial artist who had honed their body to the limit through brutal training could display.
It was why Wang Gi-neung could fight barehanded, and why Ryu Gang-cheol had no choice but to be driven entirely on the defensive.
The twenty-four weapons contained in Wang Gi-neung’s hands were simply too vicious to handle with only two knives.
‘Martial arts aside, his strength... no, even his speed is greater than mine?!’
That was not all that made Wang Gi-neung terrifying.
Physical abilities such as strength and speed.
Thoroughly honed hands and fingers.
And skill that transcended dimensions.
Wang Gi-neung overwhelmed Ryu Gang-cheol in every regard, yet never let their guard down and targeted only vital points.
Yet Wang Gi-neung did not obsess solely over vital points either. Whenever they could inflict even a nail-sized wound, they took the advantage.
Wang Gi-neung was cautious enough to build up damage bit by bit rather than rush the fight, steadily widening their lead.
Ryu Gang-cheol was already inferior in skill.
And because Wang Gi-neung’s mindset had no openings either, there was no way Ryu Gang-cheol could match him, no matter how much he struggled.
Crunch!
“Ghh!”
In the end, before they had even exchanged fifty moves, Wang Gi-neung shattered every joint in Ryu Gang-cheol’s hands and knees.
Then, stepping on Ryu Gang-cheol’s chest as he lay sprawled on the ground, Wang Gi-neung grinned.
“Do you still think I need to care whether you’re a mutt or a wolf, comrade?”
Even at those words dripping with mockery, Ryu Gang-cheol could not get angry.
He only spat out a mouthful of blood and asked in disbelief.
“...What kind of medicine did you take to get this strong, comrade?”
“I told you before. Don’t underestimate me just because I speak politely.”
Ryu Gang-cheol had at least put up a fight against Weiling.
Unable to believe he had been nearly toyed with by someone who was not even a Player, Ryu Gang-cheol wore an unreal expression. Wang Gi-neung calmly responded as though the question were obvious.
“Of course I’m strong. I am a grandmaster-level expert of the Seven Dragons Society.”
“So what does that have to do with anything?”
“The fact that you don’t know what that means is precisely why walking in here on your own was such an idiotic thing to do.”
As though he were looking at the greatest fool in the world, Wang Gi-neung smiled mockingly and continued lightly.
“You’re from the Bukgan State, so you must at least roughly know what jongsa means.”
“Doesn’t it mean a respected master or the founding patriarch of a sect?”
“Then what do you think it means to be a grandmaster-level expert of the Seven Dragons Society?”
“...”
For the first time, Ryu Gang-cheol, who had remained composed even while his limbs were broken, closed his mouth.
He knew only the basics about the Seven Dragons Society. He neither knew nor cared about their detailed doctrines or history.
But that was enough.
Enough for him to understand the meaning behind Wang Gi-neung’s words.
“Do you understand now? The only people in our Seven Dragons Society who may be called jongsa are the seven great progenitors who founded the Seventy-Two Martial Arts Schools.”
“Then a grandmaster-level expert means...”
“Just as you guessed.”
It was common knowledge to anyone who knew even a little about the Seven Dragons Society.
Yet Ryu Gang-cheol, so Player-like in his ways that he raided Seven Dragons Society subsidiaries without knowing such basic facts, earned only Wang Gi-neung’s cold derision.
“A grandmaster-level expert is a martial artist who has reached the same rank as the great progenitors in one of the ultimate arts among the Seventy-Two Martial Arts Schools.”
The Seven Dragons.
Absolute beings who ended the Silver Age by devouring even gods, then ruled the Bronze Age.
They might now remain only in legend, but that only made the weight of those legends impossible to take lightly.
Of course, there had to be exaggeration.
The gap between eras also had to be considered.
But even taking all that into account, the Seven Dragons of legend were terrifying beings.
After all, it was said that even the Sword Emperor, the first Sword Master, had ultimately died fighting the Seven Dragons.
“You should have come back after surpassing level 90. Then you might have been a match for me.”
That was why Wang Gi-neung declared it.
To face someone like Wang Gi-neung, who had entered the same rank as the Seven Dragons, if only in a limited sense, Ryu Gang-cheol needed to be at least a grand duke-class player.
Then Wang Gi-neung curled their lips as they looked down at Ryu Gang-cheol, who had leapt into danger out of arrogance.
“Look forward to it. This time, I’ll properly teach you what real pain is.”
* * *
“Do you mean their chances?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm, well...”
At Li Qing-yu’s unexpected question, Rimon spoke after considering it for a moment.
“I can’t say for certain, but if that knife-wielding bastard is the benchmark, they have a fifty-fifty chance at best.”
“Even against a subsidiary with a grandmaster-level expert like Clan Head Wang?”
“Yeah.”
Rimon nodded once.
Then he continued in a low voice.
“The experts of your Seven Dragons Society are certainly strong. Psionics and the Seventy-Two Martial Arts Schools are overpowered abilities to begin with.”
Pyrokinesis, the ability to create fire.
Psychokinesis, telekinetic power.
Teleportation, spatial manipulation.
Precognition, foresight.
Telepathy, mental communication.
Clock Up, time manipulation.
Healing, biological manipulation.
The seven kinds of Psionics innately inherited by the descendants of the Seven Dragons.
They were truly astounding supernatural powers.
But they were also abilities too great for humans.
Being born with Psionics did not necessarily make someone strong, and if their body and mind could not support the power, they could destroy themselves.
That was where the greatness of the Seventy-Two Martial Arts Schools lay.
They allowed one to cultivate Psionics through acquired training.
They also controlled the flow of Psionics, granting superhuman physical abilities and combat-oriented supernatural powers unrelated to one’s innate ability.
That was why Psionics had been considered the most overpowered mystery until the Iron Age began.
“Especially grandmaster-level experts. In terms of pure combat ability, they’re better than most Grand Duke-rank Players.”
In that sense, grandmaster-level experts were genuine superhumans.
Each had trained one of the Seventy-Two Martial Arts Schools to the extreme, making them among the strongest experts in the Seven Dragons Society.
“And you still think it’s fifty-fifty?”
“Yeah.”
But Rimon stated it decisively.
Using Ryu Gang-cheol as the standard, even Black Dragon Construction, with Wang Gi-neung there, had less than a fifty percent chance of stopping the culprits.
“Because every one of those culprits is a Player.”
“...So Skills are the issue.”
“Yeah. Players have far too many Skills that defy common sense.”
Psionics and the Seventy-Two Martial Arts Schools.
Skills that made the impossible possible.
Rimon had no intention of discussing which was superior. It was a fucking stupid yet interesting debate.
What mattered was that it would not be strange for a high-ranking Liberation Brigade executive to possess at least one exceptional Skill.
A power allowed only to one person.
Abilities, each as miraculous as a miracle.
Unique Skills.
“Of course, no matter how powerful a Unique Skill is, it isn’t without limits. If they respond calmly and properly, they might be able to stop it, but...”
Rimon trailed off for a moment.
Resting his chin on one hand as though gauging something, he continued indifferently.
“If they trust only in their own strength and let their guard down without knowing the enemy’s abilities, even a grandmaster-level expert could end up dead.”
* * *
“I’m a little confused here.”
Wang Gi-neung could not understand.
Why Wang Gi-neung’s mouth had gone dry.
How Wang Gi-neung had ended up cornered like this.
How Ryu Gang-cheol, whose limbs had been broken and who had been gasping for breath only moments ago, could now be grinning as though perfectly unharmed.
And above all...
“Who was it that said they’d teach me pain just now, grandmaster-level comrade?”
This was already the who-knew-how-manyth Ryu Gang-cheol.
Surrounded by eight Ryu Gang-cheols in total, with knives embedded in his back and side, Wang Gi-neung could only grit his teeth.
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