Martial Prohibition?
Martial… Prohibition?
Have these people caught a sickness where they can’t survive without fighting?
Why all the fuss about filing a public Martial Prohibition challenge and causing such a commotion? It’s hard to refuse now.
This is probably what they were aiming for, isn’t it?
I locked eyes with someone—some Uncle Whatshisname—who’s rather large, though not as much as me.
A gaze brimming with the desire to win.
He must be burning with the desire to fight me.
Engaging in drawn-out squabbles isn’t my thing.
What’s so appealing about a warrior from the Western Regions?
“Hmm… Martial Prohibition…”
“Among martial artists, it is said that swordsmen meeting each other draw their swords, and fist fighters meeting each other engage their fists to exchange fellowship.”
Never heard that one before.
“Therefore, I wish to compare the fist techniques of the Western Regions and the Central Plains.”
But given the situation, it’s hard to refuse. So I guess I’m left with one option.
I clasped my fists in a traditional martial salute and spoke.
“I, William Marshall, accept your challenge. Where do you propose we hold this Martial Prohibition?”
“Thank you. The vacant lot next to this inn looks suitable.”
While we’re at it, let me see what this Central Plains’ fist technique is all about.
I turned my body and followed the retreating figure of Uncle-Yunchul-san out of the inn.
————————-
‘Fist techniques from the Western Regions, I wonder what they’re like…’
I loosened my wrists and ankles while gently shaking out my limbs. For a martial artist who solves everything with internal energy, it’s a preparation of no use whatsoever, yet he had a habit of doing it this way.
“This is going to be entertaining.”
“The Iron Wind Fist versus the Blue-Eyed Lion—a battle like this will make for great stories to get free drinks for a while.”
“Hey, you’re thinking about mooching off others again?”
“But there’s nothing tastier than drinks someone else is paying for. What’s your problem?”
“That’s true.”
Onlookers and members of the Hainan Sword Sect gathered around the open space. Even the owner of the inn stuck his head out through a window on the upper floor when he heard about the impending Martial Prohibition.
While other inn owners might have interrupted or sighed in frustration, this one was a seasoned merchant, having made a living here for decades.
In a city of commerce but frequented also by martial artists, he had already realized that it was more profitable to provide a location for a Martial Prohibition, making for decent entertainment.
After all, fights at inns were an inevitable element.
“Hey Wang Sam, bring out some wine.”
“Yes, Lord.”
“A duel between a Westerner and a person from the Central Plains…”
The onlookers’ eyes brimmed with interest, directed at William.
“Reminds me of the duels I once fought on the battlefield.”
William recalled, almost faded except for the vivid redness of his memory.
Through the eyeholes of a helmet, turbaned men, copper-toned skin, and eyes filled with murderous intent.
He blinked a few times.
Now his opponent had transformed into a muscular man wearing what one might see in a Chinese drama, eyes brimming with a desire to win and curiosity, not murderous intent.
A smirk tugged at William’s lips.
“I’m still so unfamiliar.”
“I am Yunchulshan, the second son of Yunchulak, patriarch of the Jinchu Yung family and known in the martial world as Iron Wind Fist! In this Martial Prohibition, I will use the Yunga Fist Technique!”
“I am William Marshall from the Western Regions, and I hail from no family. People here call me Blue-Eyed Lion. In your terms, the martial technique I use would be called a martial art. To sum up, I will use Roman gladiatorial combat.”
He leaned forward with his right foot while slightly bending his upper body, raising both arms to chest level. It was a simple stance but odd, lacking the special principles of martial arts.
‘They say he has an intimidating stare like a lion—doesn’t look like it.’
Stories often get exaggerated, but instead of wildness, he exuded a rational presence.
Of course, the pressure from his enormous build couldn’t be ignored, but without the overwhelming aura he was rumored to have, some spectators tilted their heads and watched with uncertainty.
‘Is it a soft fist technique or a hard fist technique? It appears to be closer to a strong style…’
William observed Yunchulshan even without making the first move. Knowing little about Central Plains martial arts, he recognized that soft and hard schools were distinct and should reveal themselves unless the technique was bizarrely unique.
“The Iron Wind Fist, it seems similar to a hard style.”
Is it leaning toward one side or more balanced?
There’s no use analyzing now.
Looks like we’ll just end up staring at each other if this continues.
Wanting to conclude it quickly, William spoke up first.
“No need for me to go first.”
“Then let’s proceed.”
With a short shout, Yunchulshan’s figure darted forward toward William with considerable speed.
William kept his eyes on Yunchulshan’s fist and tilted his body to the left. The wind pressure pushed his side hair back.
‘Surely, a strong fist technique.’
Judging by the momentum carried by the punch, a misstep would likely break bones. With surprising agility, despite his massive build, William deflected the recovered punch by brushing it away with the back of his hand, then lunged his attacking hand forward.
Yunchulshan easily avoided the blow by angling his head aside as if it was nothing.
With the failed initial attacks, both retreated a bit to analyze each other.
The first exchange ended in mutual futility. But through these initial moves, each got a sense of the other.
‘The movements are concise. However, there’s no special intricacy involved.’
Like most advanced martial arts techniques, the counters lacked any unusual strain. At a glance, the technique seemed subtle, close to straightforward punching, yet Yunchulshan, being a fist master, understood it.
‘A highly practical fist technique!’
Generally, the more advanced a martial technique, the more likely it is to include unusual movements. Being an advanced art often means recreating a certain principle through the means of internal energy, hence explaining why such techniques often look bizarre yet remain equally formidable in a real fight.
However, no such sign was visible in William’s moves.
‘Is he deliberately hiding them, or is it naturally like that?’
For Yunchulshan, something seemed incomplete about his opponent’s fist technique, even though he couldn’t tell what.
On the other hand, William stood firm, ready for Yunchulshan’s next move, without stepping an inch. His stance was rigid because he had never learned the art of footwork, and any unnecessary move would expose his weak points.
Against street thugs, his lack of footwork might have left him smashing faces into the ground, but his opponent was a scion of a martial arts family.
No matter how lower-level William’s skill might appear, Yunchulshan was in no way easy to underestimate.
‘Through his well-honed lower body, he anchors his stance and delivers heavy blows with each punch.’
All martial arts require stable lower body movements.
Because humans walk on two legs.
Thus, William slightly stepped forward with his right foot and bent his knees for a more stable base.
Regardless of not using footwork, the basics of movement are always taught.
Ducking his body, William pushed off the ground.
With his massive frame, William charged toward Yunchulshan like a ferocious beast. The audience’s eyes followed, awaiting Yunchulshan’s response.
A straightforward and robust charge. How would he react?
As William approached with terrifying speed, Yunchulshan focused, his eyes burning with intensity.
He couldn’t let his guard down.
Complacency against an unknown enemy means death.
Yunchulshan widened his stance while veins popped out on his clenched fists.
And he swung his fists directly at William, with no pretense, only pure and honest blows. Each punch was so fast it seemed to tear the air apart.
William tracked the incoming punch with his sharp gaze.
He shifted his right foot slightly to the side, narrowly dodging the hit. To an ordinary martial artist, the match would’ve been over there.
But Yunchulshan was no ordinary martial artist.
‘Perhaps a kick!’
Though called a fist technique, Yunchulshan’s method included kicks as well. William spotted the right kick aimed for his chest and instinctively blocked it with his left arm instead of countering.
The impact reverberated through both men.
‘Stamping a leg on steel!’
Despite the pain in his arm, William gripped his right fist tightly and thrust it forward, now too close to evade fully. Yunchulshan had no choice but to use the Iron Leaf Toss technique to avoid the punch.
Unaware it wasn’t a direct punch technique at all.
Instantly, Yunchulshan spun through the air, his body describing a circle.
In this situation, a misstep could send him crashing to the ground.
But Yunchulshan wasn’t one to yield easily. He instantly planted his feet on the ground, using his lower body strength to withstand the momentum.
Recognizing that maintaining the twisted position would open him up for a counterattack, William immediately released his hold and turned to guard against Yunchulshan’s next move.
But Yunchulshan simply laughed heartily, choosing to create distance rather than strike back.
“Extraordinary! You’ve just used a technique that looks like it comes right out of the Wudang Tai Chi Quan!”
They once again created some distance between themselves.
“Too bad. I intended to end it there.”
“Haha! But this one has plenty of experience in Martial Prohibitions!”
Yunchulshan laughed heartily, straightening his clothes.
“To counter feints with feints… this is indeed a close contest.”
‘This opponent is more bothersome than expected.’
I would handle him easily with my sword, but dealing with him bare-handed is somewhat cumbersome.
‘This guy seems tough; it’d be better to finish him off in one go.’
William’s figure once again shot forward.
After all, gladiatorial combat excels in offense.
———————–
And so, their duel carried on.
