Chapter 63

Chapter 63

Yi-hyeon raced up the stairs toward the second floor. He needed to silence the one remaining person upstairs. That person's presence had grown distinct, suggesting he'd already awakened.

The house was old and had fallen into disrepair through years of neglect. The staircase Yi-hyeon was climbing was no exception. The paint had peeled from the wooden steps, many were cracked, and they creaked loudly whenever anyone stepped on them.

Yet Yi-hyeon was running up the stairs without making the slightest sound. Anyone fully awake who witnessed him would have stared in astonishment.

The second floor consisted of a modest wooden-floored space serving as a living room, with a door leading to an inner room. And at that moment, the door opened.

"Who exactly are you?"

The man looked to be around sixty, with a thin build and a short beard on his chin. He spoke in a low voice.

Well, even without understanding Chinese, Yi-hyeon could guess that he was asking who he was.

But Yi-hyeon saw no reason to answer and instead asked his own question. The man had spoken Chinese, after all, so Yi-hyeon couldn't have answered him even if he wanted to.

"Chen Guoliang?"

The man tilted his head at Yi-hyeon's question.

"Why are you looking for Chen Guoliang?"

Yi-hyeon took one look at the man's expression and knew.

"Looks like this bastard isn't Chen Guoliang either···."

He was beginning to get irritated. He'd sent an advance team, gone through all sorts of preparations, and climbed over a wall in the middle of the night, only to discover that finding one man was this difficult.

"Then you'll have to help me find Chen Guoliang."

Yi-hyeon strode toward him as he spoke, and the man sprang backward.

"Hmm, not bad?"

Yi-hyeon's eyes began to gleam. He had recognized that the man's movements were anything but ordinary.

"I don't know who you are, but if you've broken in here to steal, you've made a mistake."

The man spoke as he assumed a fighting stance.

His center of gravity was shifted toward his rear foot, but to Yi-hyeon, the stance was remarkably aggressive. He radiated an oppressive force, as though he might spring forward and crush his opponent at any moment.

"You're quite an accomplished martial artist."

Yi-hyeon lowered his shoulders. He had decided to give this man a proper fight.

A master deserved to be treated as a master.

It was a matter of respect for the long years of single-minded dedication he'd poured into his training.

Meanwhile, Ryu Deok-gi, an elder of the Shanxi Xingyi School, swallowed hard. The intruder before him, now standing in a fighting stance, was radiating a presence as overwhelming as a mountain.

'To think someone like this exists. Since he doesn't understand Chinese, could he be Japanese? Or perhaps Korean?'

He couldn't tell, no matter how much he thought about it. This was clearly the sort of aura that should come only from an elderly master brimming with internal energy.

Surely a tiny country like Korea couldn't produce someone this powerful. Nor could Japan, despite its tradition of revering martial arts. Apart from a few families specializing in jujutsu, weren't those islanders merely people who ran around brandishing gleaming swords? As Ryu Deok-gi's thoughts reached this point, greed began boiling up from the depths of his stomach.

He wanted to know!

If someone so young had accumulated this much internal energy, he must possess a secret method of cultivating qi. If Ryu Deok-gi could obtain it and incorporate it into his own school's teachings···.

If he could abandon the crude, half-complete breathing technique he'd been clinging to and learn such an authentic cultivation method, he'd gladly sell his soul.

"You have some skill for such a young brat. Kneel quietly and beg for mercy, and I won't be too harsh on you."

Even though his opponent couldn't understand him, he felt compelled to offer the chance.

Yi-hyeon was already approaching silently. There was no need for words now. He was running out of time.

Swish!

Yi-hyeon's right foot slid almost imperceptibly forward. His stance was extremely low, but his upper body gathered power like an eagle preparing to spring into flight.

"Hup! You vicious brat!"

Elder Ryu Deok-gi gave a low shout and stamped his leading foot toward Yi-hyeon's right foot. He had sensed a razor-sharp killing intent from the approaching young man, so he showed no restraint. Holding back could cost him his life.

"Hup!"

As Ryu Deok-gi extended his foot, he received a shock that nearly stopped his heart.

Yi-hyeon's right foot, which he'd been about to crush with all his strength, had suddenly vanished. Yet Yi-hyeon hadn't retreated. Only his foot had disappeared; his upper body was still advancing at the same speed. In that instant, a terrible thought struck the elder.

He couldn't evade it!

Yi-hyeon had merely brought his face closer without even raising his hands, yet Ryu Deok-gi felt as though his entire upper body had been exposed to countless sword points. With his eyes wide open, he watched Yi-hyeon's hand extend and touch the center of his chest.

His consciousness went dark as abruptly as a lamp being extinguished, and he collapsed to the floor.

Only then did Yi-hyeon straighten his posture. His left foot supported his weight while his right leg stretched far behind him. Anyone watching might have mistaken the movement for a ballet dancer's pose.

Yi-hyeon turned and headed downstairs, just as Lee Seung-uk was coming up to investigate what had happened on the second floor.

"Wake one of those three bastards. We need to find Chen Guoliang again."

"Yes, sir. Choi Hyeong-su just arrived."

A man stepped out from behind Lee Seung-uk. He was one of the two operatives who had entered the house with them. Having studied abroad in Shanghai, he was fluent in Chinese.

Yi-hyeon nodded, and Lee Seung-uk grabbed the neck of one of the three fallen men and massaged it briefly with his palm.

"Urgh!"

The man woke with a gasp. Choi Hyeong-su looked fascinated by what he'd seen but didn't ask any questions.

"Find out where Chen Guoliang is."

"Yes, sir."

At Lee Seung-uk's instruction, Choi Hyeong-su answered briefly and stood before the newly awakened man. Choi appeared older than Lee Seung-uk, but apparently the organization's hierarchy had already been established.

"Where is Chen Guoliang?"

Choi Hyeong-su asked in Chinese with far more polished(?) pronunciation than Lee Seung-uk. The man answered, and Choi turned toward Yi-hyeon.

"He says Chen Guoliang is probably in Song Mei's treatment room. Apparently, the school's elders gathered tonight to perform a special treatment on her."

Choi Hyeong-su might not have known who Song Mei was, but neither Yi-hyeon nor Lee Seung-uk could possibly forget that name.

"Tell him to take us there immediately."

At Lee Seung-uk's order, Choi Hyeong-su hauled the man upright by his collar and spoke to him in Chinese. The man quickly nodded. As far as he was concerned, nothing mattered so long as he wasn't hurt.

As the group left the two-story house and crossed the dark estate, Yi-hyeon muttered,

"What the hell are we doing after climbing over a wall in the middle of the night? Chen Guoliang had better be there this time."

A considerable amount of time had already passed, leaving him increasingly impatient. Lee Seung-uk quickly took out his phone and informed the personnel waiting outside to transport Chen Guoliang.

Perhaps someone had finally taken pity on Yi-hyeon's frustration. At last, he was able to find Chen Guoliang. By then, more than thirty minutes had passed since they entered the estate.

They arrived at a quiet building filled with the scent of simmering medicinal herbs. It was only one story tall, but its roof was high, and it stood apart from the other structures, giving it a secluded atmosphere.

"He says this is the place. Apparently, most of the elders have gathered here because they're performing a special treatment tonight."

Yi-hyeon shook his head at Choi Hyeong-su's explanation.

"These people certainly know how to make a fuss. A little massage with qi would clear up the internal blood congestion in no time."

Since Yi-hyeon himself had inflicted the injuries, nobody understood them better. But Lee Seung-uk, listening beside him, seemed intrigued.

"Is that why Team Leader Yu recovered so quickly?"

Yi-hyeon didn't answer, merely giving a small nod. Then he looked at Choi Hyeong-su and Lee Seung-uk.

"Let's get inside. We're running out of time."

"Yes, sir."

There wasn't even anyone guarding the entrance, so they entered without difficulty. Inside the room were three people, while a fourth lay on a bed.

"Who are you bastards?"

Someone immediately stepped forward to question them. Yi-hyeon couldn't be bothered answering, so he signaled Choi Hyeong-su with his eyes.

"Which one of you is Chen Guoliang?"

"Hmm?"

When Choi Hyeong-su asked the question, two men turned toward the third. Choi noticed and addressed the man wearing glasses.

"Are you Chen Guoliang?"

"Who are you, and why are you looking for me?"

The man stepped forward, adjusting the glasses on his face.

Finally, they'd found him!

Yi-hyeon stepped forward with satisfaction.

"You're coming with us."

Choi Hyeong-su quickly translated his words into Chinese. Chen Guoliang stared in bewilderment.

"Wh-what? You want me to go with you? Where? No, who the hell are you people?"

Whoosh!

Lee Seung-uk launched himself forward without another word. These weren't people who would cooperate simply because they were asked. Fortunately, they didn't appear to be armed, so there was no need to draw pistols and create unnecessary noise.

"Hah!"

Perhaps because he was a skilled martial artist himself, Chen Guoliang managed to retreat a step and block Lee Seung-uk despite his confusion. Choi Hyeong-su also charged toward another man.

The spacious room instantly became a battlefield. While Lee Seung-uk and Choi Hyeong-su each engaged an opponent, Yi-hyeon examined the man standing beside the bed where Song Mei lay.

Despite the chaos unfolding right in front of him, the man remained as still as water.

His face was covered in wrinkles, his eyes were deeply sunken, and even his physique was frail.

He quietly shifted one foot backward and raised his left hand. His right hand remained hidden behind him, concealing the direction of his next attack. His raised left hand was held flat, its outer edge pointing toward Yi-hyeon. Seeing this, Yi-hyeon grinned. His interest had suddenly been stirred.

To an ordinary observer, the man would be a truly remarkable master.

That was Yi-hyeon's assessment of the old man. He had probably spent his entire life refining the martial art known as Xingyi Fist.

How ridiculous it might seem to the rest of the world. In an age when a single bullet could end everything, there were still people who devoted themselves so stubbornly to martial arts training.

In Yi-hyeon's opinion, these people's Xingyi Fist had long since lost its original intent. Through the tumultuous years stretching back before the Cultural Revolution, the transmission of its authentic techniques had been broken.

Even this old man, who appeared to be a master, would only seem impressive to ordinary people. From the perspective of Yi-hyeon, who had already surpassed human limits, his abilities were terribly crude.

Yi-hyeon began releasing his energy. First, he would subdue the man.

Whoosh!

Yi-hyeon abruptly surged forward with his upper body, closing in on the elder. The old man's eyebrows twitched, and he mercilessly thrust the edge of his hand toward a vital point on Yi-hyeon's abdomen.

His gaze remained fixed on Yi-hyeon's eyes, while his movements were concise and his face expressionless. If an ordinary person were struck by those fingertips, their internal organs would rupture, and they would immediately vomit blood. That was how densely internal energy filled the elder's hand.

Yi-hyeon's left hand unfolded smoothly and met the elder's. The old man's knife-hand strike stopped, and the two began moving while maintaining contact.

Whoosh!

Swish!

It was a subtle technique known as Transforming Hands, in which practitioners pressed the backs of their hands together, suppressing each other with internal energy while exchanging attacks and defenses with their free hands. The danger was almost impossible to describe. The slightest disadvantage in energy or technique meant immediate defeat.

There was no room for deception or petty tricks in such a contest. Both sides had to rely entirely on their own skill. It required internal energy cultivated through years of patient, painstaking training and techniques refined through countless actual encounters.

Yi-hyeon nodded inwardly.

For the old man to have achieved so much with such a crude breathing technique, his dedication must have been extraordinary.

But the contest still had to end.

"Hah!"

With a low shout, Yi-hyeon lowered himself as far as possible and drove into the elder's guard, leading with his shoulder.

Thud!

The battle was decided.

It had seemed to last a long time, but less than two minutes had passed from beginning to end.

The old man collapsed, coughing.

"Your entire body is a weapon··· You have already transcended the limits···."

Choi Hyeong-su, who had finished his own fight, approached and translated the elder's final words.

Yi-hyeon turned toward Lee Seung-uk and gave his order.

"Let's take that bastard with us."

"Yes, sir."

Lee Seung-uk took out his phone and spoke briefly. The group had already seized Chen Guoliang and was preparing to leave when a voice came from the bed.

"Excuse me."

The words were spoken in clear English. Song Mei had awakened.

She struggled to raise herself halfway from the bed and spoke.

"You people··· came from Korea, didn't you? I can tell."

Song Mei addressed the three men staring silently at her. Sweat had gathered on her forehead, and her words came in broken intervals. She was clearly in considerable pain.

She glared at Yi-hyeon.

"Especially you. What's your relationship with him?"

Yi-hyeon could guess who she meant by 'him.' His current appearance was completely different from the one he'd worn when punishing her in Incheon Chinatown. But after witnessing Yi-hyeon's techniques, Song Mei seemed to have formed a suspicion.

Although she looked ready to collapse at any moment, her eyes burned fiercely. Her gaze was almost terrifying, as though she would do anything to satisfy her curiosity.

Yi-hyeon felt a sudden stirring of emotion. For some strange reason, he had a feeling his connection with this woman wouldn't end here. And she might already have guessed something.

After all, someone had interrogated her in Incheon and learned Chen Guoliang's name. Now these men had appeared and singled him out for abduction. It was precisely what her people had attempted to do to Song Yi-hyeon.

Yi-hyeon approached her and placed his palm on her abdomen.

"Wh-what are you doing···?"

Even in her condition, she recoiled in disgust. But Yi-hyeon silently released qi through his hand and gently kneaded her abdomen as though massaging it.

"You'll feel better soon. Once you've recovered, continue your training."

Then he stood and left the room.

Someone who devoted herself so completely to training had value. He had treated her on a sudden impulse, but he wouldn't regret it.

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