Chapter 378: Drink!
Even if it was just a technical sparring session, the sight of one man
dismantling five "Kaiohs" in a row was nothing short of a high-torque war.
A victory of that caliber required a proper sense of ceremony.
Whoosh!
Ren Shiroki stepped onto the sand and raised Retsu Kaioh's right arm, displaying
the victor to the gathered audience. The spectators erupted in applause, their
cheers echoing through the Soul Combat Hub. They weren't just celebrating a win;
they were paying homage to the absolute technical refinement of Retsu's Kenpo.
Even the ancient [SEA EMPEROR] Kaku Kaioh was clapping his withered hands, a
mischievous glint in his eye.
"You're becoming more mature by the second, Retsu!"
Retsu offered a polite smile, but beneath the calm facade, his eyes held a trace
of somber reflection. He looked like a man deep in thought.
A few minutes later.
The last man to fall—Chen Kaioh of the [SANHE FIST]—slowly blinked back to
consciousness. Ren had placed a folded jacket under his head as he recovered
from the concussion induced by Retsu's lightning backhand.
"Urgh..."
Chen opened his eyes. His vision was still doubling, and his head felt like it
had been used as a speed bag. He looked around to see his fellow travelers—Sun,
Yang, Chu, and Samwan—sitting or standing around the perimeter of the arena.
"So... we all lost, huh?"
The fragmented memories of the afternoon coalesced into a painful montage.
He remembered Sun Kaioh, who prided himself on his grip, being forced to his
knees by a superior hand; Chu Kaioh, the "Colossus," having his momentum
dismantled with surgical ease; Samwan Kaioh, the Muay Thai prodigy, blinded by a
"Magic" air bullet and slammed into the dirt; and Yang Kaioh, the "Diamond,"
upended by a single inch of torque.
And then there was himself. He had been so stunned by the carnage that he had
forgotten the fundamentals of his own style. He had frozen in the face of a true
master and paid the price.
"Heh..." Chen Kaioh sat cross-legged, staring at his hands in a long silence.
"This wasn't a comparison of styles," he finally whispered. "This was a
real-world execution."
"It didn't matter what school we belonged to or what moves we knew. It came down
to the men themselves. We simply... aren't strong enough."
"Who is the most powerful? It's such a simple, brutal question."
Chen sighed. "I've been schooled."
He stood up on shaky legs, dusting off his clothes. Sun Kaioh was still rubbing
his aching left hand, a few beads of cold sweat still visible on his brow. Chu
was still gingerly touching his groin; Samwan was wiping dried blood from his
nose; and Yang was helping Chen steady himself.
The five Kaiohs were each lost in their own thoughts—fear, shock, regret, and a
sudden, sharp realization of their own inadequacies. They offered a final,
respectful bow to the Hub and turned to leave.
Watching them depart, Rihito put his hands on his hips. "Hey... is it really
okay to just let them walk off like that?"
"Why not?" Marco scratched his head, looking puzzled. "They only lost a match.
That doesn't give them a reason to stop fighting. No one is stopping them from
going home and getting stronger, right?"
Rihito blinked, the logic hitting him like a physical blow. Damn, that's
actually deep.
Even though Marco was his contemporary in age, his mind was currently that of a
blunt, honest child. Rihito, who usually acted like Marco's "Big Bro," felt a
sudden flush of embarrassment at being out-philosophized by the giant kid.
He reached out, catching Marco in a headlock and ruffling his hair. "You're
getting pretty smart for a big oaf, aren't you?!"
"Waaaah! Marco just washed this hair!!"
The two of them began to tumble and play-fight, filling the courtyard with
noise.
Ren Shiroki, meanwhile, was contemplating Marco's words.
Victory or defeat has nothing to do with becoming strong...
He nodded to himself. It was true. For men like Baki Hanma, there was only one
"Win" that truly mattered—the one against his father. But for everyone else, the
"Process" of chasing the apex was separate from the scoreboard.
"Hmm~~!"
Kaku Kaioh watched the rowdy scene from his wheelchair. "Ho ho... it seems many
seeds have been sown today."
"This is all thanks to you, Retsu!" The old man gave a cackling laugh, his
sunglasses reflecting the setting sun. "Your technique hasn't rusted at all, and
your aura has certainly gained some 'weight'!"
"Thank you, Master," Retsu bowed. He sounded a bit tired, mostly from the
emotional weight of having to discipline his own peers.
Ren looked from Retsu to Li, and finally settled on the ancient Sea Emperor. He
grinned. "Alright, pops! How about hotpot tonight?"
Kaku Kaioh's bushy eyebrows shot up. "Oho? And you're paying?"
[Soul Combat Hub — Living Room]
By the time the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in a
visceral, bloody red, the group was gathered around the table in the
second-floor living room.
Though martial artists were generally a boisterous lot, they maintained a strict
hierarchy of respect for the elderly. The 146-year-old Kaku Kaioh was seated at
the head of the table.
Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle—
The electric hotpot was bubbling away in the center.
"Ho ho! Let's eat!" Kaku signaled with a wave of his chopsticks, and the group
fell upon the food.
Since he had legendary guests, Ren pulled out a bottle of the Hub's specialty
medicinal sake—Hannya-to (Prajna Soup)—and poured a cup for the Sea Emperor.
"Here you go, Master..."
Kaku Kaioh took a slow, methodical sip. He closed his eyes, savoring the warmth
as it traveled down his throat.
"Mm. The alcohol content is modest. A fine blend of herbs, lingzhi, and ginseng.
It helps regulate the flow of Qi."
"Simply put... it's damn refreshing!"
Kaku drained the cup in one go and slammed it down, gesturing to the two younger
Kaiohs. "Retsu! Li! Drink up!"
After a few rounds of the Hannya-to, the atmosphere became more contemplative.
"Good work today, Retsu," Kaku said, his tone turning casual. "Sorry to make you
handle those five."
"It's fine, Master," Retsu replied. He knew his mentor had engineered the
airport pickup on purpose, but he didn't mind. "It wasn't a trouble."
"What did you think?" Kaku asked.
Retsu paused. "What do you mean?"
"Your thoughts on the five 'Kaiohs' you just dismantled."
Retsu went silent for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "If I'm being
honest... I was deeply disappointed. The standards for the title of 'Kaioh' have
plummeted."
Kaku Kaioh summarized for him: "You mean to say that the men currently holding
the title are mediocre hacks, don't you?"
"Yes," Retsu admitted. "I never doubted the power of Kenpo itself. But the
individuals... their technical refinement was pathetic. I couldn't acknowledge
them as peers."
"Hmph!" Kaku drank another cup of Hannya-to. "At its core, a 'Title' exists
because a Great Man exists to hold it. It is not the title that creates the
man."
"The so-called 'Elders' of the current Kenpo world... their hands are as soft
and pretty as a woman's. They've lost the Way!"
"If we held the Great Centennial Tournament right now and just let them trade
blows, we'd just be manufacturing a 'Sea Emperor' out of thin air to fill a
slot. It would be a disgrace to 4,000 years of history."
Kaku looked at Retsu. "Now do you understand why I leaked the news of this
'Street Brawl' to the temples?"
Retsu's eyes widened in realization.
Kaku nodded. "I'm using this Tokyo meat-grinder to filter the weak. If they
can't handle a street fight in this city, they have no business stepping into
the Raitai."
"This city is full of monsters. It's a literal queue of high-level challengers
waiting to break you. And the best part? No rules, no referees, no liability, no
laws... where else are you going to find a training ground like that?"
"Hahahaha!!"
Kaku Kaioh laughed heartily. Retsu, however, looked pained. While his master's
logic was flawless, it was undeniably "despicable" to use his own peers as
fodder for a social experiment.
"Master... you are a legend in our world. You hold absolute authority." Retsu
hesitated, his face reddening slightly from the alcohol and the boldness of his
next words. "But right now... you're being a bit of a bastard!"
"And I don't care!"
Kaku waved a hand dismissively. "People who want to keep fighting will find a
way to do it regardless of my meddling."
The old man removed his fogged-up sunglasses, wiping them with a silk cloth to
reveal eyes that were ancient but vibrantly alive.
"Like me. And like you, Retsu! Hahaha!"
Retsu let out a long sigh, the tension finally leaving his shoulders as a sense
of peace settled over him.
"Master, I'm ashamed of my own naivety." He raised an eyebrow, a small smile
appearing. "But... hearing you categorize me as 'someone who wants to keep
fighting'... I actually feel incredibly lucky."
Kaku Kaioh chuckled. He knew his disciple well. He turned his attention to Ren
Shiroki.
"And thanks to you for providing the stage, young man!"
Ren nodded with a smile. "Anytime, Master Kaku."
"It's a good arena," Kaku mused, looking around the room. "I can tell. From the
equipment to the way it's used... everything here was built with a heart for the
fight."
Ren's grin widened until it was impossible to suppress.
He imagined that if someone praised the Shinshinkai like that, Doppo Orochi
would be wearing the exact same stupidly happy face. Hearing a legend praise
your home... there was no purer joy than that.
☆☆☆
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