Chapter 96: A Genius Beyond the Bounds of Reason

Even though Genzo Kuroki prided himself on having spent decades in pursuit of the ultimate martial path, traversing countless places across the monster-laden lands of East Asia and meeting innumerable strong men and prodigies, he was still shaken by the scene before him.

“When you faced my first two blows, that panic was not an act. I am certain of it.” The words, rough and awkward, seemed to be carved out of the throat of this bear-like man, as if each syllable were being forced through with a knife.

“But now, you’ve already mastered ‘blind fighting’?” The cultivation of martial arts is completely different from the legendary tales spun in novels. In the eyes of those who write but know nothing of martial principles, it seems that as long as one trains hard enough, then feats like ‘locating by sound’ while blindfolded or ‘never missing’ when throwing weapons should come naturally. They never seem to consider whether the protagonist, a silent swordsman, has ever even learned the art of throwing, or had any reason to practice fighting blind. It just happens, as if by magic.

In reality, both of these skills demand sweat and scars, and only bear fruit after thousands of hours of practice. Yet the youth before him… how long had he taken? A second? Two? Genzo Kuroki, confident in his own speed, knew his three-strike combo had lasted less than three seconds. In that fleeting moment—a span not even long enough for an ordinary man to yawn—the boy had mastered a technique that usually required thousands of hours!

Even the well-traveled Kuroki could not suppress his amazement. And then, a wave of fighting spirit surged within him! The value of defeating a strong opponent lies precisely in how difficult they are to overcome.

With a sudden shift, a spiral dune swirled beneath his feet, and the figure of Kyō Shiratō disappeared in an instant. He reappeared behind Genzo Kuroki’s right side. In that direction, Kuroki’s leg muscles had been severely torn, and two of his fingers broken. No matter how formidable, he was still an “ordinary man”—one who had honed his body and skills to extraordinary heights. He possessed neither supernatural energy nor special constitution. The damage to muscle and bone inevitably limited his power; his right flank was a true weakness.

Kyō Shiratō aimed precisely at these injuries, determined to defeat this bear-like man. A Rakshasa Palm, swirling with spiraling force, shot toward Kuroki’s ribs. The sharp vortex of air left a whirling imprint on his black karate gi even before the palm made contact.

With a sharp smack, Kuroki’s face remained calm as a still lake. His outstretched arm snapped back, elbow tip landing precisely on the side of the Rakshasa Palm, deflecting its power. The devastating force of the Rakshasa Palm comes from its spiral energy, which wreaks havoc on the elastic tissues of muscle. Yet Kuroki’s battle-hardened elbow, as tough as steel, merely sizzled when struck, with no blood spilled.

But Kyō Shiratō’s attack was not over. He had launched his offensive with the intent to end the fight. The sensory linkage constructed by his augmented intellect was still imperfect, with fluctuations akin to the static of an old television. If any other fighter had used the “blood-blinded” technique against him, these flaws would be negligible. But against Genzo Kuroki…

Relying solely on the inner strength of dragon’s blood, Shiratō felt uncertain. Facing this man was like standing on a cliff by the sea, before a blackened ocean, shrouded by storm-driven clouds—an overwhelming pressure of spirit and fighting will, unmatched experience and technical mastery.

Kuroki had not yet discerned the flaws in Shiratō’s vision, but with his martial acumen, it would take no more than a minute, and within ninety seconds, he might already devise tactics to exploit them. Therefore—victory must come swiftly!

The arm that delivered the Rakshasa Palm was flushed red from the sonic friction with air. Yet from the brief contact of elbow and palm, Kuroki’s sensitivity made his eyes widen in astonishment. His body had “heard” it. The bones of his joints linked together, twisting like an earth dragon turning in its sleep. Muscles, tough as steel wire, contracted in readiness. All this power was gathering in the opponent’s uninjured arm.

That exquisite, ordered rhythm of the body compelled the mind to envision the trajectory, as one would imagine the bullet leaving the barrel once the trigger is pulled.

“This punch… will be supersonic!”

Years of experience gave Kuroki’s brain its answer in a flash. Around the fist, a faint white ring of compressed air manifested, accompanied by a deep rumble like thunder.

But in Kuroki’s eyes, along with the gravity of facing a supersonic punch, there was also delight! To confront such a strike was a temptation no true warrior could resist.

“Demon Spear!” Twisting and stepping, spear out like a dragon! He instantly turned to face his opponent, launching a palm-thrust as sharp as a blade cutting through air. The sequence was seamless, as if every prior movement—retracting his arm, deflecting the Rakshasa Palm—had all been a calculated shift in balance for this single attack.

When Shiratō saw sweat streaming down Kuroki’s densely-haired brow, he understood: this was an action pre-calculated with ‘prior anticipation’. Moves made in advance outpace even supersonic speed—for the supersonic punch still requires a windup, but Kuroki’s thrust was already poised to strike.

His thick arm tore through the air, the sleeve of his black gi shredded to ribbons. Yet the muscular, spear-like hand still thrust unerringly toward the youth’s chest!

Palm and fist, like two swords crossing in a cinematic duel, met in midair. And the Demon Spear struck flesh first!

A metallic hiss. “It… won’t pierce?” Only the fingertips stained with blood, Kuroki’s brow twitched. “It’s ‘Indestructible’!” He raised his eyes and saw the youth’s confident smile.

“The match… is over.”

The supersonic fist, already trailing shockwaves, seemed to skip the windup entirely, as though an engine had been supercharged. Wildly and abruptly, it entered supersonic mode!

“Twin Tiger Style—Secret Technique—Oni Overwhelm!”

With a deafening explosion that made everyone in the arena cover their ears, the black-clad giant was sent flying like a rag doll across the ring! He bounced several times on the sand before crashing into the far wall.