Chapter 342: A Man of Absolute Power (Parts III & IV)
Clap-clap-clap-clap—!
The sound of applause echoed through the damp night air.
It wasn't a celebratory sound. It was the instinctive, visceral response one has
when facing a force of nature—a mixture of awe and the primal tension of
standing before an apex predator.
"..."
Yanagi Ryuko's left eye bulged. Hearing Retsu Kaioh's formal introduction, he
stared in utter disbelief at the withered, ancient figure in the wheelchair.
"So... you are 'Yanagi'?"
Kaku Kaioh sat in his wheelchair, offering a serene, playful smile. "The one who
mastered the [YIN HAND]. I heard rumors that your kind had integrated the art
into something called the 'Way of the Void.' I came all this way to see how the
technique has evolved in the hands of a 'modern' master, but..."
The old man tilted his head, his gaze settling on the mangled convict. "Hmm. Are
you even still in there?"
Yanagi finally snapped out of his daze. A cold sweat drenched his back, but he
forced himself to respond, his pride as a convict barely holding together.
"I'm honored. The title of [SEA EMPEROR] is legendary even in the underground. I
heard you were 146 years old... I didn't expect you to still have the eyes of a
killer."
Kaku Kaioh waved a dismissive hand, chuckling softly. "My, you're far too
polite. And you're wound up much too tight."
He held up his tiny, withered fist. It was barely the size of Arisa's hand—a far
cry from the massive, calloused boulders of the fighters standing around them.
"Look at me, user of the Poison Hand. This body is a ruin," Kaku said calmly. "A
fist like this couldn't break a brick, let alone a man. Its 'destructive power'
is practically non-existent... Ho ho!"
Yanagi sneered. "Why do I get the feeling you're lying to me, old man?"
"Lying? Never," Kaku smiled. "It's simply that I have no use for 'power'."
Yanagi blinked, confused.
Kaku continued, "The old, the weak, women, and children—those who lack physical
might are the ones who truly require technique. If a martial art cannot be used
by the weak to defeat the strong, then what is the point of its existence?"
"Apply the necessary speed... at the necessary moment... with the necessary
technique. Control your emotions. Master the timing."
"If your timing is perfect, you don't even need speed."
Kaku Kaioh removed his sunglasses, wiping them slowly. Behind the lenses were
eyes that were ancient yet terrifyingly clear, glowing with a faint, inner
light. He looked directly at Yanagi.
"But for a man like you, such concepts are impossible to grasp. That is why you
are weak."
While they spoke, Retsu Kaioh whispered the legend of his master to the others.
He didn't know every detail, but he knew the core: about a hundred years ago,
Kaku Kaioh had been a man who prided himself on his monstrous physical strength.
He had challenged the world with his raw power until he was utterly dismantled
by an elderly master of "Technique."
In that moment, Kaku's worldview had shattered. He realized that muscle was a
finite resource that withered with age, but "The Principle" was eternal. He
abandoned his muscles, sacrificing everything to master the logic of Kenpo. He
didn't sit at the peak of the martial arts world because of his seniority; he
sat there because he was the most lethal person alive.
Yanagi Ryuko was a horrific sight. His right eye was gone, his left hand was
pulverized, and his clothes were saturated with blood. Knowing he couldn't walk
away from this circle of monsters, he dropped into a low crouch, raising his
poisoned right hand one last time.
Kaku narrowed his eyes, then sighed and shook his head. "I wanted to see how the
Poison Hand had developed in a branch school. To think it has become something
so... mediocre."
Cold sweat rolled down Yanagi's face. He refused to let his spirit be broken.
"Heh. A 146-year-old fossil... don't tell me you've never used a dirty trick in
your life?"
"No, no, that's not it," Kaku shook his head dismissively. "I don't look down on
you because you use tricks. I look down on you because your technique is
immature."
"Simply put... you're just not very good at this."
The insult stung Yanagi deeper than any moral lecture ever could. His fear
curdled into a manic rage, and he bared his broken teeth at the Sea Emperor.
Kaku Kaioh stood up from his wheelchair, taking a slow, shuffling step forward.
His gait was light, yet the pressure he exerted was like a moving mountain. It
felt as if a thick, suffocating fog was rolling toward Yanagi, making it hard to
draw breath.
He's just a frail old man! Yanagi screamed at himself. His muscles are gone! His
eyes are failing! He's literally at the end of his biological life! He'll
probably die of a heart attack if he swings too hard!
"GRAAAH!!"
Driven to a desperate corner, Yanagi lunged. He thrust his Poison Hand forward
with everything he had left.
Whoosh!
Kaku Kaioh remained in his casual standing posture, his arms hanging limp. In
the split second before Yanagi's hand found its mark—Zip!
Kaku's right wrist flickered. The two figures crossed.
Thud—
Something hit the pavement.
Ren and the other spectators leaned in, their eyes widening in shock.
Yanagi Ryuko's entire right hand—the Poison Hand—had been severed cleanly at the
wrist. It lay on the asphalt, still twitching.
There had been no flash of a blade. Kaku hadn't even dropped into a stance or
built up torque. He had simply walked past Yanagi, flicked his wrist, and... he
had sliced through human bone and sinew like a hot wire through butter.
Yanagi didn't even feel the pain at first. He stood there for several seconds,
staring at the stump of his arm, before the agony finally registered. He
collapsed to his knees, clutching his wrist and letting out a soul-piercing
wail.
"WAAAAAAAGH!!"
The display of mastery was so absolute that even a genius like Retsu was stunned
into silence. Ren, Ohma, Yagyo, and Arisa all stood frozen, subconsciously
swallowing their saliva.
Even Kuroki Gensai looked visibly shaken.
"Hmph! That is the absolute pinnacle of technique," the Devil Lance muttered.
"He is the incarnation of Kenpo itself. Even I, Kuroki, cannot match that level
of 'fluidity'."
Kuroki raised his own palm, attempting to explain the logic to the others.
"Just now, Kaku Kaioh achieved total relaxation of every muscle in his body.
Then, he snapped his arm forward. Simply put, his limb became a whip."
"But unlike a normal 'Whiplash' that damages the skin, his followed the pure
physics of the tool. Even an amateur can break the sound barrier with a long
whip, creating a 'crack' which is actually a miniature sonic boom. If a master
mimics that principle—using the body's joints to accelerate the hand—they can
theoretically achieve a supersonic strike."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "It's the same principle as Katsumi Orochi's [MACH
PUNCH]!"
Kuroki nodded. "Yes. I heard the 'Final Weapon' of the Shinshinkai used a
similar move to challenge the primitive giant Pickle. That is a talent even I do
not possess. But... Kaku Kaioh's strike was even more refined than 'Mach'."
Hearing the praise, Kaku Kaioh turned around, his face splitting into a
delighted, wrinkled grin.
"Ho ho! You're a rugged one, aren't you? You have good eyes!"
Kaku lightly shook his arm. "Using joints to accelerate... that is indeed the
basic foundation of the strike."
"But for that move just now, I only used the joints from my shoulder down. I
didn't dig into the ground, nor did I twist my spine. The number of physical
joints used was minimal."
"So, how did my fist exceed the speed of sound and become sharp enough to cleave
flesh?"
Kaku was essentially giving a masterclass, and he didn't care who was listening.
"The key... is imagination." Kaku tapped his temple.
"In reality, you only have a few joints in your arm. But that is a lie of the
flesh. Regardless of your actual anatomy, if you believe your arm is made of a
thousand joints... if you truly imagine it to be so... then it becomes so."
"By using imagination to 'add' imaginary joints to the limb, you can increase
the acceleration exponentially. Imagination is infinite!"
A lecture from the Sea Emperor himself was a once-in-a-lifetime event. Everyone,
including Kuroki Gensai, fell into deep contemplation.
Meanwhile, Yanagi Ryuko forced himself up from the ground. He had lost his hand,
but he immediately tucked the stump into his right armpit, using his mangled
left arm to apply pressure to the artery.
"Hah... hah...!"
Yanagi staggered away. While Kaku was busy talking and his back was turned, the
convict fled into the darkness in a final, frantic scramble for survival.
"Hmm? Is the punishment not enough?" Kaku sighed. He shuffled back to his
wheelchair and signaled to Retsu. "Retsu, push me along. Let's see what's going
on up ahead. It seems rather rowdy."
Retsu nodded. He knew his master well enough to know that Yanagi wasn't worth
"killing"—Kaku viewed him as a bug to be swatted, and the swatting was over.
But the pursuit wasn't over. Everyone wanted to see the final end of the "Poison
Hand." Kuroki and Kaku had both mentioned "danger" up ahead. What was waiting
for them?
Yanagi stumbled through the streets, his exhaustion reaching its breaking point.
His vision was tunneling, and his eyelids were heavy.
But his flight wasn't random. He was heading for a specific park. Under a
certain bush, he had buried a stash of lethal, illegal weapons—blades, poisoned
needles, and homemade ceramic smoke bombs.
Zip!
Yanagi burst into the park, diving toward the bushes. He began to claw at the
dirt with his broken left hand, but he couldn't find the weapons bag.
Suddenly, a voice spoke from behind him.
"Are you looking for these?"
Thud.
A dirt-stained, sealed bag was tossed onto the grass beside him. It was his
hidden arsenal.
Yanagi spun around to see a middle-aged man with long, silver-white hair and a
stocky, powerful build.
"You... who are you...?"
"Motobe Izo."
The Master of Ancient Combat stood there, wearing a simple jacket, looking at
Yanagi with a mixture of pity and disdain. He looked surprised at the state of
the convict.
"I thought Shiroki-kun was just going to give you a lesson. I didn't expect so
many other people to have a bone to pick with you. You've really made a lot of
enemies, Yanagi-san."
Motobe let out a low chuckle.
Yanagi, on his knees, began to surreptitiously move toward the weapon bag.
Motobe didn't stop him. "Go ahead, reach for them. I'm not like you—I don't care
if my opponent is armed."
Yanagi didn't hesitate. He tore into the bag.
Motobe smiled thinly. "In this state of absolute despair... what kind of cheap
trick are you going to try next?"
Yanagi's face twisted. Using his left wrist to pin a weapon, he suddenly whipped
his body around and threw.
Zip!
It was a sickle! The blade spun through the air, aimed directly for Motobe's
throat.
CLANG!
Motobe had already drawn a katana. The sickle hit the steel and spun harmlessly
into the grass. At the same time, a tiny poisoned needle—thrown as a hidden
follow-up—was swatted away by the flat of the blade.
Two attacks—one obvious, one hidden. Motobe had neutralized both with a single,
effortless motion.
"I see..." Yanagi whispered. "Jujutsu evolved from the sword... so you're a
master of the blade as well."
Motobe raised an eyebrow. "You're half right. Jujutsu includes the sword, but I
am a master of all weapons. But..." Motobe's tone shifted. "In your state, you
can't even hold a handle, can you?"
"..."
Yanagi didn't answer.
"HIYA!"
With his final reserves of strength, he lunged. It looked like a desperate
tackle, but he had a handful of lime powder hidden in his shoe, which he tried
to kick into Motobe's face.
Flash!
Motobe's katana whistled through the air. He and Yanagi crossed silhouettes. A
split second before the lime could fly, Motobe released his grip, letting the
katana fly from his hand.
SHLUCK!
The blade buried itself deep into Yanagi's thigh.
Motobe pivoted, turning his back to the lime spray to protect his eyes, then
reached back, grabbed the hilt of the sword still stuck in Yanagi's leg, and
yanked it out as he stepped past him.
The movement was a masterpiece of "Ancient Combat" flow.
Squelch!
Yanagi's leg erupted in blood, and he collapsed to his knees.
Zip—
Motobe turned back, pointing the tip of the blood-stained katana at the kneeling
convict. His silver hair caught the night breeze, and his jacket fluttered
behind him. There was a strange mixture of calm professionalism and somber
melancholy in his eyes.
He looked past Yanagi toward the street, where Ren and the others were
approaching. Then he looked back at the convict and sighed.
"Give it up, Yanagi-san. The match is over."
Yanagi tried to speak, but he suddenly froze. His eyes were fixed on the space
behind Motobe.
"—!?"
Motobe realized Yanagi wasn't faking. He turned his head to see a massive,
hulking silhouette with long, deep-red hair.
[THE OGRE] Yujiro Hanma.
☆☆☆
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