Chapter Seventy-One: The Duel Before All Others

Unlike the “Invocation of the Humming General,” which enhances physical prowess by aligning one's spirit with the Wrathful Vajra and thereby indirectly influencing the secretion of brain hormones and blood flow, the “Invocation of the Hah General” is a far more intricate and profound technique in the Martial Essence School.

By attuning one’s spirit to the Wisdom Vajra, this technique stimulates heightened mental activity to achieve the brain’s maximum processing capacity. The engorged blue veins protruding above the shoulders, thick and prominent beneath the skin, are a necessary measure to provide extra nutritional support to the body’s greatest energy consumer—the brain.

Yet even at this stage, the “Invocation of the Hah General” is not considered complete in the practice of the Martial Essence School. To master this move, the practitioner must possess one crucial skill—an advanced level of self-induced psychological suggestion, that is, the science of psychology.

The elevation of brain activity is comprehensive. While it sharpens one’s reactions in combat, it also brings forth a flood of trivial thoughts that normally lurk unnoticed in the mind’s recesses, springing up like bamboo shoots after rain. Imagine, as you throw a punch at your opponent, not only does your mind flash through a dozen possible developments for the ensuing battle, but also questions like, “What should I eat afterward?” “Did I step on chewing gum?” “Did I forget to wash my hands after using the restroom?!”

Just clawing one’s way out of this whirlwind of thoughts would be exhausting and time-consuming, rendering the enhanced mental activity pointless. Thus—psychological induction and control are essential!

A hot, white breath, like the exhalation of some great beast, erupted from the old man’s lips and teeth. But even after invoking the “Invocation of the Hah General” and possessing such overwhelming presence, the old man’s movements returned to an ordinary pace, cautious as he approached Genosuke Kuroki.

Not far away, the man who stood like an upright black bear seemed to sense something; for the first time, his cold expression softened. His thick brows drew together, his demeanor solemn and grave, as he slowly assumed a prudent fighting stance.

The two men, closing in on each other at a measured pace, seemed to be calculating and anticipating what move the other might make next.

And in the very instant when both had entered each other’s sphere of attack and defense—

A hand thrust, bare and sharp as a blade splitting the air, signaled Genosuke Kuroki’s initiation. Yet the old man’s body twisted in advance, evading the edge of the “Demon Spear.” Not only that, but in the midst of twisting, he gathered force, his hand chopping sideways in a blur aimed at Kuroki’s thick neck.

But that “Demon Spear” slicing the air was not, in fact, a move that combined all of Kuroki’s power into one—at the very moment he attacked, his lower body delivered a low sweeping kick with barely a fraction of a second’s delay.

From the direction of the kick and the old man’s likely reaction, if that kick connected, not only would the hand chop miss Kuroki’s throat by a hair’s breadth, but the old man, forced off balance by the kick, would crash straight into the “Demon Spear’s” edge and be run through!

But the old man seemed to have anticipated this perfectly. He did not behave like a traditional martial artist who values a stable lower stance; as the sweep approached, he allowed himself to be toppled to the ground with seeming ease.

Yet at the very same moment, the hand that should have swept past Kuroki’s neck shifted, as if prepared in advance, into a gripping gesture. Seizing the collar of the black karate gi with a judoka’s technique, combining practiced skill with the full weight of his body and the resolve to grapple his enemy to the ground, the old man dragged Kuroki into a ground fight.

Their battle appeared bizarrely slow and uncanny—like the fight scenes from old Hong Kong martial arts films, possessing a strange, choreographed staccato quality.

“This... what is this...?” If she weren’t the daughter of the Chairman of Kengan and privy to some insider knowledge, even with Kaori Katagiri’s seasoned eye as a veteran fight enthusiast, she might have believed herself watching a rigged match!

And not just any rigged match, but an amateurish one where even the set routines were poorly rehearsed.

A cacophony of skeptical voices spread through the Kengan Arena like wildfire through dry grass. Yet the two fighters in the ring seemed utterly indifferent, continuing their measured, choreographed exchanges.

As the on-site commentator, Kaori Katagiri could not allow this to continue. Glancing around, she discovered that Jerry Tyson, standing beside her, his dark, powerful body drenched with cold sweat, had eyes so wide they seemed ready to pop from his skull.

Even the combatants who had been spectators just moments before were now watching the match with grave attention.

When it comes to the professional, ask the professional.

Amid the rising tide of doubt and commotion, the fight enthusiast finally turned to Jerry for an explanation.

“Um, Jerry, you seem to have discovered something in this match—could you explain it for everyone? The audience, myself included, is utterly baffled by the slow pace of these two fighters!”

“You still don’t get it? Well, I suppose that makes sense.” As he spoke, sweat ran from the man’s brow into his eyes, stinging like fire, but even then, his gaze never wavered from the entangled fighters in the ring.

“To put it simply... Have you ever heard of ‘Go no Sen,’ ‘Sen no Sen,’ and ‘Sen Sen no Sen’ in kendo?”

Kaori’s grasp of the basics was solid. “From what I understand, counterattacking after an opponent’s attack is called ‘Go no Sen.’ Reacting at the very instant of the opponent’s attack, discerning their intent and method, and countering simultaneously is ‘Sen no Sen.’ As for ‘Sen Sen no Sen,’ it is seeing through all the opponent’s possible actions before they make a move and resolving the fight at its source.

Legend has it that the ‘Greatest Swordsman of the Warring States,’ Musashi Miyamoto, challenged the ‘Sword Saint’ Yagyu Sekishusai in his youth and was defeated by the latter’s ‘Sen Sen no Sen,’ his intentions laid bare and, with nothing but a bouquet of flowers, was ‘cut down’ an instant before he could even draw his sword. The young swordsman reportedly dared not draw his blade from start to finish.

But aren’t those just legends?”

“No, these are not just legends! And even after all this, you still don’t understand, Miss Katagiri?” Jerry’s eyes never left the ring, but there was a trace of regret in his tone, as though lamenting the frog at the bottom of the well, doomed never to see the vastness of the sky.

“So, to put it plainly—if two martial artists, no, two true warriors, both attained ‘Sen Sen no Sen,’ what would their battle look like?”

“You mean...” Kaori’s full lips parted, her eyes shining with incredulity. “Those two fighters...!”

“Watch closely, Saeko.” Kyoji Hakudo and Saeko, along with many other combatants, stood up to get a clearer view of the match.

“This may very well be the most technically profound fight in the entire Kengan Annihilation Tournament!”