The technique called "Keung (勁)"—or [Muscle Arts], as his disciples more commonly referred to it—was a skill Ihan had crafted from martial arts’ external techniques. By pushing the body's physical limits, this straightforward skill drew out maximum strength and durability. Its simplicity and reliance on raw strength, speed, and resilience made it a technique accessible even to those lacking exceptional talent.

In contrast, the Explosive Technique was far more challenging. The principle was straightforward: create a burst-like force within one’s body to release explosive strength and speed, increasing physical ability by five to ten times. However, mastering the Explosive Technique required exceptional talent and a fine sense of control.

The mere act of causing controlled internal explosions to forcibly enhance one's body was dangerous and required genius-level control—akin to the decision-making skills of an F1 racer.

Thus, Ihan never underestimated those who mastered the Explosive Technique. Even in martial arts, those who excelled in external martial arts often rose to become the strongest. Ihan had come to understand this truth through reincarnation.

But now—

BOOM!!

“!!?”

Until now, Ihan had only understood in theory the incredible power of the Explosive Technique—considered the greatest martial skill acknowledged by both kingdoms and empires. It seemed he had been arrogant, thinking he understood it without actually grasping its true essence.

Ihan realized the extent of his past arrogance and grit his teeth, feeling that even speaking might make him retch.

‘It's like fighting a damn dump truck!’

He saw thirteen knights charging at him with bucklers in hand.

Bucklers, or circular shields, were more commonly used as offensive weapons than for defense. While bucklers had their strengths, they also had significant weaknesses, so few knights chose to use them. However, most of the Crimson Eagles wielded them, and every time one of these shields struck at him, it felt like being hit by a dump truck.

BOOM!!

With an explosion-like force, the knights kicked the ground and crashed into him with their whole bodies. The collective energy of the thirteen knights resonated, creating a shimmering heatwave. Ihan braced himself and threw up his own buckler in response, mirroring their choice of shield.

Wrapped in an aura of “Diamond Resilience,” Ihan turned his entire body into armor, eliminating any blind spots.

His entire body became both shield and weapon.

Because of this—

BOOM!!

He withstood the explosive impacts once more.

“Argh!!” “Ugh!” “Grk…”

On the other hand, the knights who couldn't withstand the impacts fell to the ground.

It wasn’t a quick victory; after dozens of relentless clashes, he finally managed to shake them off.

“Damn it, these guys are really trying to kill me.”

But even though he had fended them off, it wasn’t without consequence.

Cough…

His insides felt battered. The impact had accumulated within him, something his resilience and recovery couldn't fully absorb.

Had the battle continued a little longer, his resilience would have shattered first.

Ihan longed for a drink of water but turned to face the approaching figures.

“This time, it’s eight of you?”

“We’re the best at working together.”

“…Why not all come at once?”

“Haha, you think we’re not enough?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then this is the best approach. If we all come at once, we’d only scatter our strength.”

“Ha.”

At some point—more precisely, since the defeat of the spear expert—the knights stopped attacking all at once.

Instead, groups of ten or two came at him in turns.

It wasn’t out of arrogance or underestimation.

If anything, it made things even more difficult.

Facing a hundred at once had the feel of a chaotic melee, making it easier to handle. Even with rigorous training, a hundred could never move perfectly in sync.

But now, things were different.

These groups of ten, seven, or five worked together seamlessly, posing a more efficient and formidable threat than a hundred attacking all at once.

‘None of these guys are pushovers.’

The most challenging opponents so far had been the thirteen shield-bearers and the two swordsmen he defeated earlier.

When a team worked together seamlessly, they exhibited the kind of synergy that could yield a perfect game or no-hitter in baseball. These perfectly coordinated groups wore him down far more than a chaotic melee.

This was the true test of dueling knights, or rather, an entire knight order.

Now was the real trial, Ihan thought, as he spat out a mixture of blood and dirt.

A question came to mind.

“Isn't it a bit noble to go all-out against a mere intruder? Why are you putting in so much effort?”

“Haha, do you think any of us still sees you as just an intruder?”

“Aren't I?”

“You spoke with Sir Zeon, didn’t you? None of us would disregard you as a mere intruder.”

“…Why?”

Ihan cocked his head in genuine curiosity.

Who was this Zeon, anyway?

To his reaction—

“…So you acted without even knowing what you’ve done. Ha! How utterly knightly! Very well, let us stake our honor on this battle as well!”

“…You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

The knight’s eyes blazed with a fervor as intense as molten steel, making Ihan wonder if they’d all been drugged.

“Well, I suppose things will come to a conclusion if I just knock everyone down.”

Realizing that his objective remained unchanged, Ihan discarded his broken axe and armor, gripping his sword.

With an optimistic mindset that he only had sixty more to defeat.

•  
•  
•  

BOOM!!

CRACK! CRUNCH!!

“……”

The elite soldiers of Tristan dared not interfere with the battle.

It was a siege by an intruder, and logically, they should support the knight order and subdue the intruder.

They knew this in their minds. But they couldn't step in.

Why?

Because—

“If we get close, we’ll die….” “…Gulp.”

…It felt like they’d be torn to shreds in a storm the moment they stepped in.

The soldiers’ faces turned pale. The combatants didn’t even look human.

How could they move like that?

Did gravity even apply to them?

“Super…humans…”

One soldier muttered.

Yes, it wasn’t their first time witnessing knights dueling. They’d been with Tristan long enough to see practice sessions.

But this was different.

THUD!

The ground of marble shattered with each step.

CRASH!

Every swing of a sword, every clash of bodies, rang like thunder.

Could this truly be the sound of humans fighting?

They remembered a story once told by a minstrel.

-[A knight’s movements are like the wind, and a knight’s sword strikes like lightning, making them superhuman warriors capable of facing a thousand enemies.]

They’d dismissed it as mere children’s tales, recited to amuse.

But now… they realized.

That’s what knights truly were.

Knights were indeed capable of becoming the wind and striking like lightning.

However—

“No, if they were true superhumans, this mansion would’ve been leveled already, haha.”

“!!?”

It was an old knight correcting their misconception.

The soldiers blinked in surprise and were about to salute their lord, who had approached them.

“Ah, enough. No need for formalities in this situation. I merely came here to watch by myself, so let’s continue watching together.”

“M-my lord?”

“Excellent, truly excellent! This is what a duel should be!”

“……”

“I hope it’ll be my turn soon. I can hardly contain myself…!”

The soldiers shivered in fear.

Their lord, Marquis Zenimia, had bloodshot eyes, resembling a predator driven by hunger. But it was more than hunger. He seemed to be in awe as if a long-grounded eagle had remembered it could soar again.

As if to confirm this wasn’t mere illusion—

CRACK!

The bow in his hand let out a strained groan, as if yearning to shoot.

The Marquis of Tristan was anxiously awaiting his turn.

…Relishing in his knights’ defeat.

And so—

BOOM!!

As if responding to his anticipation, his turn was approaching.

 

CLANG!

“……”

Ihan glanced at his half-broken sword.

He’d noticed an ominous sound around the fiftieth opponent. It seemed the sword had finally reached its limit.

It had been a while since his blade had shattered like this, especially since mastering the Diamond Resilience.

But without a second thought, Ihan tossed the sword aside and pulled out a hand axe from his pocket.

“I am Karl de Metz of the Crimson Eagles. Ranked… somewhere around twentieth.”

“I’m Ihan.”

…He’d lost track of how many times he’d had this conversation.

At some point, the knights started announcing their names, and Ihan returned the courtesy out of habit.

Not that he remembered all of them.

He recalled some, but during the battle, he’d nearly blacked out at times, causing him to forget a few.

However, even if he couldn't remember names or conversations, he remembered their techniques and weapons.

His body remembered more than his mind.

-And so, it would be the same now.

Whoosh!

The clashing sword and hand axe sent his opponent staggering backward.

Ihan seized the moment, stepping into his opponent’s space and delivering a fierce knee strike.

The Swift Step of the Stinging Dragon.

It was an unavoidable, powerful blow.

But even so, headbutting someone wearing a helmet…

Was foolish, and he wondered if he’d fractured his skull.

“…Is your skull made of steel?”

“That helmet seems old; maybe get a new one.”

“You…crazy…”

Thud.

It was the helmet that broke, while Ihan’s head prevailed.

“…That hurt.”

Gaining new wisdom about the dangers of headbutting, he regained focus.

He’d nearly blacked out.

“Huff…”

“You’re bleeding from your forehead.”

“I know. Anyway, what rank are you? And why come alone?”

“I’d coordinate with others, but, unfortunately, I’m the last one left.”

“Why?”

“Look around.”

“…Ah.”

Following the knight’s suggestion, Ihan glanced around.

All but one knight had fallen.

The Crimson Eagles—legendary knights—lay scattered, with Ihan standing alone.

“Congratulations. You’ve defeated the entire Crimson Eagles.”

Screech.

“However, I cannot allow us to be completely defeated.”

While dueling was important, so was winning.

Bale, emitting a strong aura, unleashed a resonant sword hum.

Whooong!

A resonant hum echoed from his blade.

Ihan realized Bale was among the most formidable opponents he had faced.

“I am Bale de Tristan, and though a branch member, I hold the position of vice-commander of the Crimson Eagles.”

“Tristan?”

“A branch member. But for the record, I didn’t achieve this position through blood.”

“I figured. You look stronger than the others I’ve fought.”

“…Haha, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt rewarded for my efforts…”

At this moment, Bale felt free from his inferiority complex as a branch member.

This knight saw him not as a lesser relative but as a true adversary to be bested.

The countless hours spent striving to grow stronger had finally paid off.

-And yet, he regretted it.

“I wish we could have fought while I was in better condition.”

“I’m still fine, though.”

“Looking like that?”

“…Ahem.”

As Bale noted, Ihan was in rough shape.

Ninety-nine eagles had fallen, but not without taking a toll.

One knight had cut him. Another had struck his jaw.

Others had restrained his movements, and a blade had even left a scar.

Thus, Ihan resembled a blood-soaked specter.

One wrong move could make him fall.

Bale regretted being the last.

Had he gone first, he would have seen Ihan at full strength.

“If you’re the vice-commander, couldn’t you have pulled rank?”

“Most of them were my seniors.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

Ihan, who had been through military ranks where seniority often trumped titles, understood Bale.

With a nod, he said—

“All right, just draw your sword.”

“You’re not going to rest?”

Bale had started the conversation to buy Ihan some rest, but—

“No disrespect, but if I rest now, I might not move again.”

“…Indeed, a lion remains a lion, wounded or not.”

Whooong.

Bale’s sword hummed, producing an even more intense resonance.

Sword hums had levels of mastery, and Bale’s surpassed that of his junior knights.

A faint silver thread formed at the blade’s edge.

Was it sword energy?

No, it was different. It was as if the hum itself extended outward.

Akin to Ihan’s own sword energy, it wielded the power of the sword’s spirit.

Sword Threads.

Slash!

The blade sliced cleanly through rock with ease.

“…Impressive.”

“The power is even more impressive.”

Swoosh!!

Words were unnecessary.

Bale’s swordsmanship bore down on Ihan, who leapt into the air.

The Swift Step of the Stinging Dragon.

Ihan’s decisive move.

“I’ve already seen that move!”

But having seen the technique before, Bale’s sword had no blind spots.

Bale’s moniker as [Tristan’s Owl] reflected his skill, as he struck with omnidirectional precision.

With a ferocity akin to an owl striking down its prey, his blade pursued Ihan.

Yet, Ihan responded—

BAM!!

Recklessly kicking off the air in a dive toward Bale.

“What!?”

Diving straight toward a swordsman was akin to suicide.

Was he surrendering?

‘No!’

Recognizing Ihan’s prowess, Bale knew Ihan wouldn’t recklessly charge in without a strategy.

Thus, he resolved—

‘To cut him down!!’

Regardless of what Ihan intended, Bale spun his blade to form an inescapable net.

It was known as [Heaven’s Net].

There was no escape from the inescapable web of blades.

“Really… Heaven’s Net?”

Ihan was exasperated.

How did this fight end up against such a formidable foe?

Any misstep could leave him shredded to pieces.

Even so—

‘Well, so what?’

Ihan spun his entire body through the net, uncaring.

If his opponent wielded the Heaven’s Net, he would unleash—

“What!?”

Inspired by the legendary Eight Dragons Technique of the Taoists’ mythical Kunlun, Ihan had reimagined the technique.

While the Eight Dragons Technique was traditionally classified as a movement skill, Ihan’s version created a spinning force capable of piercing anything in its way.

Emulating the same technique he’d used the day before with the Guanri Spear, Ihan’s attack—

SLAASH!

—tore through the Heaven’s Net.

“Where… where does one even learn something like that?”

Seeing his technique dismantled, Bale asked reflexively.

Rather than feeling despair at his technique’s failure, he was simply curious about where such skills were taught.

“It’s found in books… books filled with romance and chivalry.”

“A-and now you bring up chivalry…”

Thud!

Bale was flung backward.

With no chance to evade, Ihan’s knee struck his midsection, sending him sprawling.

“……”

Huff… huff…

Ihan panted heavily.

Relief washed over him as he realized he had narrowly defeated a worthy adversary. He acknowledged that his unfamiliar technique had been his saving grace.

‘It only worked because it was new to him. Otherwise, I would’ve been the one cut down.’

Thankful for the hours spent refining the Eight Dragons Technique, Ihan silently expressed gratitude to the Kunlun Sect, whose existence he couldn't even confirm.

In the end, he had won.

…Though, of course—

“Did I keep you waiting too long?”

“Not at all. If anything, this was fulfilling and exhilarating. You have no idea how impatient I was, hahaha!”

“…Aren’t those your subordinates?”

“They’d be satisfied. When else would they experience a fight like this? They may have lost, but the experience itself was priceless.”

“Hm…, are all nobles eccentric?”

Whether it was a duke, princess, or grand noble, they all seemed peculiar.

Did power always come with eccentricity?

Chuckling wryly, Ihan thought to himself. However, the marquis didn’t mind, gripping his bow eagerly.

THUD!

The colossal bow struck the ground with a resounding thud.

One could only wonder at its weight.

Could anyone even draw such a bow?

Swoosh!

The marquis demonstrated, pulling back the bowstring.

WHOOOSH!

Though there was no arrow, a vortex formed as he drew the bow, creating a bolt of wind aimed at Ihan.

In this tense moment, still smiling, the marquis spoke.

“Ah, I meant to mention, I recently received a report and wanted to apologize. Apparently, sending the envoy after your disciple wasn’t my intention. It was my subordinates’ decision.”

“I know. I don’t hold it against you. In fact, I’m aware that what I’m doing here crosses a line.”

“…Then why go this far?”

“To make a statement.”

“A statement?”

“I won’t stop you from taking the child, but I wanted to show that we’re not to be taken lightly. I wanted you to know there’s strong backing behind her.”

“…Is that truly your reason?”

“Why, is it too small a reason for a noble?”

“…Not at all, if anything—!”

──It’s such a magnificently noble reason!

The marquis was moved.

In the monotonous days following his revered king’s passing, as an aging knight past fifty, Ihan’s actions brought a thrill that nearly brought tears to his eyes.

For the sake of his disciple, to demonstrate that she wasn’t someone to be taken lightly—even Tristan would hesitate to challenge her.

“For the lady’s sake, young knights today could learn from such devotion. I might just fall for you.”

“…I’ll pass, charming old man.”

“Young people have no manners, hohohoho!”

TWANG!!

The marquis laughed heartily as he released the bowstring.

It was a message from the Marquis of Tristan, acknowledging Ihan.

In the most explosively intense way imaginable.