Failed Possession Chapter-72

## Ch-72.

—

He couldn’t refuse.

The blazing eyes of the Fist King clearly carried the message: if the answer he wanted didn’t come out, he would not hesitate to throw the first punch.

Truthfully, Yuri didn’t want to refuse. On the contrary, this kind of proposal from the Fist King was something Yuri had quietly hoped for.

**Dokgo Gwi-jin, the Fist King.**

He was not the strongest barehanded fighter in the world. If one had to categorize, the Heavenly Demon and the Calamity Saint both originated as martial artists, and even among the Four Absolutes—some of whom were suspected Possessors—many fought without weapons.

But Dokgo Gwi-jin’s epithet was *Fist King*.

An epithet reflects a martial artist’s defining trait. His was *Fist King* because among all his martial arts, the fist stood out above the rest.

To experience that fist in a non-lethal setting was no common opportunity.

“Thank you.”

So Yuri bowed deeply. The Fist King, who was removing the long robe draped over his shoulders, responded with a crooked grin.

“No need to thank me. I wanted to see your skill with my own eyes.”

Both were barehanded fighters. Since it was Yuri who had to break through, he did not widen the distance. In fact, the Fist King had said he would not counterattack. From the very start, the space between them remained within Yuri’s range.

A distance where a single step and a punch could land.

Yuri assumed the opening stance of **Rantian Flowing Cloud Fist** and looked at the Fist King.

Unexpectedly, the Fist King was not standing casually.

A Martial Zeniths of such vast seniority and realm could have simply let his arms hang loosely and said, *Do as you like.* But instead, the Fist King stood serious-faced, fists raised.

Not every powerhouse of this era had appeared in the game. Thirty years was enough for generational change. Many bosses from the game had died, gone into seclusion, or vanished.

The Fist King was a Martial Zenith whose fame rose with that generational shift. He had existed in the game, but he had never been a particularly noteworthy NPC in terms of level or difficulty.

‘Was he around level 50?’

There were no conditions for his appearance. While leveling in the common hunting field of Yujeong Mountain, one could encounter him as a field boss—Dokgo Gwi-jin. In the game, his epithet had been *Fist Maniac*. He had no event quest, and only a single line of dialogue upon death.

> [Just a little more…]

What that “little more” meant was never explained. That was all the Fist Maniac ever said. Not high level, not high difficulty, no gimmicks or events—he was a boss who never even received a proper piece of fan art.

‘He dropped the martial art *Ten Thousand Waves Severing Fist*.’

Yuri had experimented with it in builds a few times, but its ceiling was far too low to justify using.

That was in the game. Thirty years had passed since then, and the Fist Maniac had become a Martial Zenith known as the Fist King.

“It would be best if neither of us used aura. I hear you have a spar with that brat Sword Dragon in two days. If you suffer internal injuries, I’ll get an earful from Sword Emperor hyung.”

“Yes.”

Ten seconds passed as they faced each other.

Naturally, no openings were visible. To be honest, Yuri didn’t want to step in first. But waiting was pointless—the Fist King had said he wouldn’t attack. Yuri had no choice but to move.

He began with his slightly forward left hand.

The first movement of **Rantian Flowing Cloud Fist**, *Floating Clouds drift*. The wrist of the slowly extending left hand suddenly tightened with force, and the speed shifted sharply as it shot toward the Fist King.

The core of Rantian Flowing Cloud Fist lay in the linkage of the two fists. If the left was blocked, the right followed. If the right was blocked, the left followed. The flow of attack must never break. One must fluidly deflect counters, open a gap, and drive strikes in.

Every principle of the technique emphasized freedom—unbound, like clouds drifting across the vast sky. Sometimes dancing with the wind, swallowing the moon, flashing like lightning—

Thud.

The punch did not advance properly.

It was blocked. Before reaching its intended point, the Fist King’s fist intercepted Yuri’s.

The flow Yuri intended never even began. It was like a massive boulder dropping and diverting the current of a river. Yuri did not panic. He immediately withdrew the fist. If blocked, it simply flowed again—that was Rantian Flowing Cloud Fist.

Blocked again.

Left hand—blocked. Right hand—blocked. Fold and redirect. He tried straight lines, then curved arcs.

Everything was blocked.

No matter how erratic the variation, it was useless. The Fist King’s eyes perceived every shift in intent and cut it off.

‘The eyes of a 7th Rank?’

Is that why he sees it?

Yuri’s expression hardened as he reduced variation and focused elsewhere.

Faster. Heavier.

‘I can’t break through.’

He couldn’t penetrate at all. He couldn’t even extend both arms fully. It gave Yuri a strange sense of helplessness.

It was different from the helplessness he had felt when first learning Rantian Flowing Cloud Fist under Fist Wolf. Back then, his flow had simply been weaker.

This was different.

The Fist King prevented Yuri from even creating a flow. He prevented him from properly extending his fist. Every attempt was cut off before it could proceed.

It felt like striking a massive wall without even being allowed to complete the extension of a punch—

‘No. It’s different.’

Not a wall.

A blade.

The Fist King held no weapon, yet Yuri felt countless invisible blades. Those blades were slicing apart his Intent before it could manifest.

“Boy, you can use your legs too.”

The Fist King spoke.

Yuri’s body tilted slightly back. **Crimson Blood Flowing Kick.**

The result was the same.

Before the kick could even land, before the leg fully extended, its momentum was severed. Yuri controlled the collapsing balance, twisted his posture with the cut-off leg, and shifted into footwork.

Haryeong watched without even breathing.

In her estimation, Yuri was easily among the highest tier of 5th Rank. Having already stepped into Intent early, he might even face an unpolished 6th Rank alone.

But his opponent was not 6th Rank.

At minimum, 7th Rank—a Martial Zenith.

The gap should be large.

But this large?

The Fist King had not moved from his spot. Meanwhile, Yuri circled with footwork, striking from all directions.

‘Striking?’

Even to Haryeong’s eyes, it wasn’t striking.

Neither fist nor foot fully extended. Each was cut midway. Like a puppet with its strings severed. He reattached them and moved again—only for them to be cut once more.

‘He’s severing the pulse of every attack.’

To have one’s pulse cut was fatal. Yuri was impressive for chaining attacks instantly despite the gap, but the Fist King, cutting everything without even stepping once, was terrifying.

“Sharper than before.”

The Sword Emperor had arrived unnoticed and murmured in admiration.

Sword Dragon, drenched in sweat from training, stared so intensely his eyes were bloodshot.

‘How many times would I have died?’

Yuri paid no mind to the growing audience.

He was focused only on breaking through.

‘What if I mix in Violet Lightning Flash Art?’

Neither side was using aura. This was purely internal energy empowering the body.

Adding technique wouldn’t change the outcome.

“I concede.”

At last, Yuri withdrew his fists, breathing hard.

No matter how much longer he tried, he could not break through.

The gap between him and the Fist King was not something that could be closed overnight.

“Hm.”

Only after hearing the declaration of defeat did the Fist King take a few steps back. He lightly shook out his gaunt arms, then accepted the long robe a nearby knight had been holding and draped it over himself.

“You’re better than Tyrant Dragon, at least. Your skill’s good.”

Tyrant Dragon was Hwangbo Jincheol, the young master of the Hwangbo Clan. He was twenty-six—four years older than Yuri.

“Just like hyung said. The kid’s got spirit. Even after realizing it wouldn’t work, he kept trying. I like that.”

“Even so, you rascal, how can you just show up and do this?”

The Sword Emperor clicked his tongue and glared at the Fist King. But instead of backing down, the Fist King puffed out his chest.

“I was impatient. Couldn’t be helped.”

“So? What do you think?”

“If I die someday, and that brat’s still alive then, the next Fist King title will be his.”

The Fist King cackled and slapped Yuri on the shoulder. The Sword Emperor asked in a casual tone,

“If you like him that much, why not take him as a disciple? At your age, having a few wouldn’t be strange.”

“I don’t want that.”

The Fist King immediately drew a line.

“If I take disciples, I’ll have to raise ’em and worry about ’em. Won’t be able to focus on my own martial art. Bah, I hate that. Maybe later—when I can’t even clench a fist anymore—I’ll think about taking one.”

“You fool, how would you teach a disciple if you can’t even clench your fist?”

“I’ll teach with words! Anyone who becomes the Fist King’s disciple should be a genius who understands ten from one sentence.”

As he spoke, the Fist King ambled along, then suddenly turned and pointed a finger at Yuri.

“Besides, didn’t you learn martial arts from Fist Wolf? Even if you didn’t formally become master and disciple, I’m not exactly a stranger to him. Can’t just snatch up someone who learned under him.”

“You’re not strangers?”

Yuri turned sharply toward him, startled. As far as he knew, the Fist King and Fist Wolf had never met.

—I challenged Full-Moon Play. Next, challenging the Fist King might not be bad.

Those were the words Fist Wolf had left before departing Lutran. Hearing the Fist King speak like this was surprising.

“Met him once. About half a year ago.”

The Fist King looked at Yuri as if that were the more surprising part.

“Didn’t he tell you?”

“I was living as a wanderer for a while. I didn’t keep in contact. All I know is that he went into seclusion to break through to 7th Rank.”

“Heh.”

The Fist King’s shoulders shook with laughter.

“If a man goes into seclusion to break a wall and comes back out, the result’s obvious. Prepare to congratulate him when you meet him. Fist Wolf Bakered broke through and reached 7th Rank.”

7th Rank!

Yuri’s eyes widened.

He already knew Fist Wolf had gained the seed of enlightenment through his spar with Full-Moon Play. He’d expected him to reach 7th Rank someday. But to cross the wall that even clan heads of prestigious houses failed to surpass—that was astonishing.

“Then… where is he now?”

“How would I know? He came to my residence half a year ago, asked for a spar, drank a few cups with me, then left. Don’t know where he went.”

“And the result?”

“Obviously I won!”

The Fist King answered with blazing eyes.

“Wasn’t easy, but I won.”

If it had been a duel to the death, would the outcome have changed? The Fist King considered briefly.

No. It wouldn’t have changed.

‘But I’d have needed resolve.’

He wouldn’t have won unscathed. He would’ve needed to accept losses of his own.

“Speaking of Fist Wolf—Yuri, your fist isn’t quite the same as his.”

“I didn’t learn all of his martial arts.”

“Fist Wolf’s fist had a weight you lack. Made it harder for me to cut off. Yours is fast, flexible, ever-changing. But against someone who can *see*, that alone won’t be enough.”

“Then what should I do?”

“Too late to add weight now. Best is to make it so that even if it’s seen, it can’t be handled. Or shake them further. Or swallow them whole.”

“That’s difficult advice.”

“Increase variation. Make it so even if it’s cut, it doesn’t feel cut. Or swallow the very act of cutting into your own design. Heh. I’ll give advice like this, but against me it won’t work. Truth is, the best answer is not fighting someone above your Rank until you reach 7th Rank.”

Laughing, the Fist King withdrew his pointing hand.

“Anyway, Yuri. Hard to believe you’re only 5th Rank. I’ve no intention of taking disciples now—and even if I did, because of my ties to Fist Wolf, I couldn’t take you.”

He grinned broadly.

“But I’ll mark you as a candidate for someday. When I’m old and pathetic, unable to clench a fist, come ask me for my martial art. I was thinking of Tyrant Dragon from the Hwangbo Clan before—but seeing you now, you’re better.”

With that, the Fist King burst into loud laughter.

The Sword Emperor watched him stride across the training ground like it were his own home and shook his head.

“Where are you going alone?”

“Worked up a sweat. Need a wash. Surely you’re not too stingy to give this little brother some hot water?”

“Do as you like.”

The Sword Emperor only clicked his tongue and didn’t stop the Fist King as he entered the estate at will.

“Hm. I didn’t expect things to go this way. My apologies.”

After clearing his throat, the Sword Emperor turned to Yuri.

“No sooner had we released the statement than Dokgo Gwi-jin contacted me. Asked how long you’d be staying here. Asked what kind of material you were.”

“I’m fine.”

Yuri smiled awkwardly.

“I’m grateful the Fist King thought well of me. It’s rare to receive guidance from a senior martial artist of his caliber. I should be the one thanking you.”

“You speak so prettily, Yuri. Quite the contrast to my one and only grandson.”

Speak prettily… That was the first time in his life he’d heard such praise.

‘Online, I’ve heard I talk like crap plenty of times…’

In real life, he’d mostly been told to speak more.

“What did I do wrong now?”

Sword Dragon muttered with a pout. The Sword Emperor ignored him and continued speaking to Yuri.

“That fellow’s temperament is eccentric, but his passion for martial arts is genuine. Especially toward talented juniors.”

“Is that so?”

“I told you. Not long after Tyrant Dragon earned his epithet, he barged into the Hwangbo Clan. As you know, it’s hard for barehanded fighters to raise their Rank.”

If one endured and reached higher Rank, the advantages over peers of equal Rank were distinct. But reaching that Rank was not easy. With mediocre talent, many barehanded fighters lost an arm before even reaching 3rd Rank.

“That fellow struggled much in his youth. That’s why he takes interest in young fighters who rise to fame. Since you walk the same path, it’s not a bad connection to have. For all his words, if you clung to him now, he might even take you as a disciple.”

A disciple of the Fist King?

It was a position few could refuse. But becoming his disciple meant being dragged around by a wildly unpredictable eccentric.

“I have ties to Fist Wolf.”

Though they had not formally become master and disciple, Yuri considered Fist Wolf his teacher. For now, declining was the proper course.

He still intended to visit the Assassins’ Sect with Haryeong and trace Fist Wolf’s whereabouts.

‘And congratulate him on reaching 7th Rank.’

Knowing how desperately Fist Wolf had wanted to reach 7th Rank, Yuri found himself smiling unconsciously.