It was not that he underestimated his opponent.
Although Gong Mun-yeon was only a half-hearted member of the martial world, his determination was genuine and could not be compared to that of a true martial artist.
Anyone who walks the path of the unlearned must never look down on their opponent.
Even a tiger gives its all when catching a rabbit.
Moreover, having witnessed the masked man dispatching his guards, there was no room for carelessness.
However... something felt strange.
Look.
His fist, pulled back with all its might, was stopped just before it could extend forward, blocked by the tip of a scabbard.
When he tried to strike the scabbard, it had already slipped away.
The energy he had gathered could not find its way out and twisted in frustration.
"Ugh!" The sensation of his internal energy flowing backward was vividly felt.
"This guy!" He attempted to strike the masked man with a spinning kick, but the masked man was already gone from that spot.
"You're too slow."
"Ugh!" Startled by the voice behind him, Gong Mun-yeon swung his fist backward.
But it was the same again.
Thud!
Gong Mun-yeon's energy, drawn up from his dantian, was supposed to amplify through his waist and chest, launching from his arms and fists.
But what happens when the launching pad is blocked at the moment of takeoff?
Boom! It felt as if something exploded within him.
At the same time, the area around his shoulder suddenly swelled.
Though he could not see it, the muscles near his shoulder must have burst.
"Ugh!" And then the same thing happened again.
"Ahhhhh!" He drew up his energy with all his might to kick the masked man.
Yet the masked man did not even seem to evade; he merely stepped back a single step, as if annoyed by a fly.
Gong Mun-yeon's foot brushed past the masked man's chest.
The pressure from the wind made the masked man's clothing tremble, but not a single hair on his body was touched. 'What kind of trick is this?' He could not regain his composure.
Was it speed? No. Was it strength? Neither.
The masked man was neither fast nor strong.
Judging by appearances alone, Gong Mun-yeon could take on ten of him.
Yet now, he could not even grasp the hem of the masked man’s clothing.
It was as if a young disciple was trying to fight against his master, struggling with all his might, but none of his efforts bore fruit.
Look now.
His strike, filled with all his might, flew toward the masked man's face.
Even a mere brush would tear flesh and shatter bones.
But it could not even graze him.
The masked man effortlessly dodged, as if avoiding the gesture of a three-year-old child, simply tilting his head to evade the attack.
How could this be possible? It was not speed.
But it was fast.
Moving with a sense of overwhelming presence at a speed barely visible to the eye was not the case.
Yet, he moved slowly, but surely, and perfectly at the most appropriate moment, in the right direction and at the right distance.
There was no waste in his movements.
It was a realm that any martial artist would dream of.
But facing that dream right in front of him, Gong Mun-yeon's heart sank in despair.
It felt like facing a monster.
Clearly entangled with a person, yet he felt no sense of fighting against anyone.
He could see it clearly, yet he could not touch it, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not even graze it.
If only he moved wildly enough to know his limits and level, he would retreat immediately, but just barely missing by the thickness of a piece of paper drove him to the brink of madness.
'This person is a monster.' If it were just evasion, he would not be so tense.
But this person's unlearned skill was not limited to that. 'He reads all my moves.' Before his strike could even extend, the masked man would occupy the space where it would land.
He was binding Gong Mun-yeon's energy, causing it to flow backward.
This was different from the Wudang's ability to restrain.
It was a marvelous harmony of speed and anticipation.
How strong could he be? He could not even guess. 'From the start, it was a mistake.' Monsters are unpredictable, which is what makes them monsters.
If he had known such a monster existed in the volcano, he would never have dared to provoke it.
Yet...
"Grrr."
The masked man, who had been dodging Gong Mun-yeon's attacks, bent over, holding his waist.
"Oh dear. Damn this body. I’m going to pull a muscle. I really am."
"..."
The masked man panted as he rubbed his waist.
...
For a monster, he seemed a bit clumsy.
How could such a skilled person be panting like that with such movements? It was absurd.
Yet, it was happening.
The masked man's chest rose and fell incessantly.
The area around the mouth of the mask was slowly getting damp with his breath.
And the face revealed in the center of the mask was drenched in sweat.
Thick droplets of sweat flowed down his neck, soaking his back.
Anyone could see he was on the verge of collapsing.
Yet, amidst all this, he dodged every single attack, making it even more maddening.
"Grr."
The masked man straightened his waist again.
"Tsk. I wanted to play a bit longer, but I can’t anymore. I’m running out of strength."
Gong Mun-yeon's face turned tense.
They had only exchanged blows for the time it took to drink a cup of tea, yet he had not even managed to grasp the hem of the masked man's clothing.
He had been confident that if he could unleash all his abilities, few in the volcano could withstand him.
Yet here he was, being toyed with by an old man he had never seen before.
"Why has someone like you not stepped forward until now?"
"What do you care?" Cheongmyeong twirled his sword and grabbed it again.
"Those who only have mouths often fall into strange delusions. Just because you ask, do I have to answer?"
"..."
"The one who should be asking is me. For a tavern owner, your martial arts are quite impressive. How could someone with such skills be merely running a tavern in Huayun?"
"... Is there a rule that says a skilled martial artist cannot run a tavern?"
"Not at all. But if a skilled tavern owner were to covet money and engage in shady dealings, that would be a different story. With skills like yours, there are plenty of ways to make money without running a tavern. Yet here you are, dealing with drunken fools?"
Cheongmyeong's lips, hidden behind the mask, twitched.
"What are you saying..."
"Ah, enough."
Cheongmyeong interrupted Gong Mun-yeon.
"I know, I know. You’re not going to talk anyway. There’s no conspiracy, no scheme. So don’t go around dragging innocent people into this. I have never received orders from anyone, nor am I related to anyone. This whole affair is something I started personally. Isn’t that right?"
"…Y-yes."
"Ah, I thought so."
Cheongmyeong nodded vigorously.
"Usually, they all say that. And unfortunately, those who say such things rarely confess without suffering some misfortune. But the truth is, while your sins are considerable, they are not enough for me to grind you to dust. I would like to hear the truth, even if it means separating flesh from bone, but that would only cause problems."
Cheongmyeong nodded to himself.
"Now, here’s the problem. Do you know what I do in situations like this?"
"…How would I know?"
"Smack."
Gong Mun-yeon's eyes widened slightly.
"Excuse me?"
"I said I would smack you."
"…"
Cheongmyeong tilted his head a couple of times and approached Gong Mun-yeon.
"Holding onto someone who won’t talk and trying to figure out what to do will only make me frustrated. So let’s keep it simple and compromise. You absolutely must not talk. I will keep hitting you until I feel satisfied, even if you don’t say a word."
"…"
"If you ever change your mind and want to talk, raise your hand and say so. But you’d better think quickly. Once you’ve been hit, there’s no refund."
"What kind of nonsense is this!"
"Ah, yes. Nonsense. That’s my specialty. Here I go!" Cheongmyeong lunged at Gong Mun-yeon swiftly.
Seeing Cheongmyeong closing the distance in an instant, Gong Mun-yeon unconsciously stepped back.
It was not a display of overwhelming force, nor was he unleashing a tremendous technique with the sword in his hand.
The masked man, who looked like he might collapse at any moment, was merely moving his legs to charge forward, yet Gong Mun-yeon had no choice but to retreat in shock.
Of course, he could not retreat faster than Cheongmyeong could charge.
Cheongmyeong's sword swung, aiming for Gong Mun-yeon's left knee.
Thinking it was too late to evade, Gong Mun-yeon wrapped his arm with energy to block in front of his knee.
Wham!
Cheongmyeong's sword struck Gong Mun-yeon's shoulder.
"Ugh!" A sound escaped involuntarily. 'Shoulder?' It had clearly been his leg, so why was he suddenly hit on the shoulder? But there was no time to think.
After striking Gong Mun-yeon's shoulder, Cheongmyeong's sword came down again, aiming for his head.
This time, he had properly positioned himself to block above his head.
Thud!
His vision blurred for a moment.
The world faded to black before slowly regaining its color.
At the same time, he felt a tightness in his throat, as if it were about to break.
"Ugh!" Cheongmyeong's sword jabbed at his neck.
Though the sword had not been drawn from its scabbard, it was not cutting him, but the scabbard, as heavy as iron, was thrusting into his neck, causing immense pain.
Tears welled up, and his whole body trembled.
Wham! Wham!
Amidst it all, Cheongmyeong's sword came crashing down.
Shoulder, head, waist.
Now he was swinging the sword wildly as if he were catching a stray dog on a hot summer day.
The most astonishing and suffocating part was that despite the wild swings, Gong Mun-yeon had not managed to evade even once.
If he twisted his shoulder, it would strike his waist; if he pulled back his waist, it would strike his head.
Gong Mun-yeon, now disheveled, was horrified and retreated. 'I might really die...'
The fear that he might actually be beaten to death took hold of Gong Mun-yeon for a moment.
As he opened his eyes wide and looked ahead, he locked eyes with Cheongmyeong.
And in that moment, Gong Mun-yeon understood.
The eyes.
The moment he saw Cheongmyeong's eyes, devoid of any emotion, Gong Mun-yeon had an instinctive realization.
Throughout his life, he had seen such eyes many times.
And those who bore such eyes all shared a common trait.
Murderers.
Though he did not know the identity, it was clear that this person had killed countless people.
To him, beating Gong Mun-yeon to death would be as trivial as swatting a fly.
The sword that was swung like a joke would surely take his life the moment it was drawn from its scabbard.
'No, I can't!' He did not want to die.
At least not here!
In that moment, Cheongmyeong's sword was drawn from its scabbard.
With a speed like a ray of light, it came crashing down toward Gong Mun-yeon's head.
"Ahhhhh!" Gong Mun-yeon's hand glowed with a blue light.
And it shot out toward Cheongmyeong, who was swinging the sword like a thunderbolt.
Boom!
As Gong Mun-yeon struck the air, he froze in that position, arm extended.
"..."
There was no one where Cheongmyeong should have been.
As Gong Mun-yeon quickly raised his head, he saw Cheongmyeong already far away, leaning on one leg and pushing the sword back into its scabbard.
Cheongmyeong spoke.
"Taiyi Divine Hand?"
"…"
"You little bastard?" In an instant, Gong Mun-yeon realized his mistake, and his face turned pale.
"Are you from the Jongnam Sect?"
And soon, it twisted into a horrific expression.