Chapter 211: Filthy Methods
The shards of razor-sharp glass, held fast to Dorian's knuckles by the thick
industrial grease, radiated a warped, unnatural killing intent.
—The lethal weapon was complete.
"Hey, hey..."
Seeing this, Katsumi Orochi wanted to step into the street and replace the
wounded Lihito, but he was simultaneously held back by his father and Ren
Shiroki.
"Interfering now would only insult Lihito-kun's pride," Doppo said firmly.
"It's not over yet," Ren added. "Lihito isn't finished fighting."
Each of them had their reasons, but hearing them only made Katsumi more anxious.
His confusion regarding the boundary between sport and "real battle" continued
to grow.
Out on the asphalt, Lihito's mind flashed back to a sentence. One week ago,
during his brief clash with Yanagi Ryuko, the Poison Hand had evaluated his
finger strength:
"Possessing a master-grade weapon without the soul of a warrior to wield it is a
profound tragedy."
And now, Dorian was echoing that sentiment: "Let me show you... how a real
weapon is used."
"Heh... first that midget, now this old fossil. Everyone's got an opinion,"
Lihito growled. His ten fingers flexed, veins bulging across his forearms.
"Don't you dare look down on me!!"
Zip!
He lunged forward with a massive stride, his lethal right claw swinging for
Dorian's chest.
But just as he closed the gap, Dorian flicked his hand with a subtle motion.
Several tiny, microscopic shards of glass dust flew from his knuckles, spraying
directly into Lihito's eyes.
Lihito's eyes clamped shut by reflex. Dorian capitalized on the frame-trap
instantly, unleashing a jagged, heavy punch aimed straight for the face.
BANG!
Lihito was sent reeling several steps, his body trembling. His face was a map of
jagged lacerations from the glass shards. Blood poured from multiple wounds, and
one of his eyeballs had turned a terrifying shade of crimson from a burst
vessel.
Yet, despite the blinding pain, he forced his eyes open and locked onto Dorian.
Dorian held up his glass-encrusted fists once more. "If you truly wish to settle
this as a master of your craft, then you still have much to learn."
"...Hah?" Lihito plucked a shard of glass from his cheek, frowning. "What the
hell are you babbling about?"
Dorian let out a weary sigh. "To possess fingertip strength capable of slicing
through human flesh... such a talent is rare beyond measure."
"Essentially, you should view your fingers as 'concealed blades'."
Dorian gestured with an open hand. "You could easily offer a handshake before a
fight and use the opportunity to cripple your opponent's arm. Or perhaps be
bolder? A hug to shred their spine or the back of their neck would yield
excellent results."
"If you take a heavy blow, you could fall to your knees, beg for mercy, weep
like a child... then strike while their guard is down. Or, when you are grounded
and appearing defeated, ambush their ankles..."
Dorian shrugged. "There are a thousand ways to utilize a lethal weapon, yet you
choose to charge in broad daylight with a frontal assault. Isn't that just...
stupid?"
Lihito spat out a mouthful of blood. "Give me a break, you psycho. What you're
describing isn't 'Strength.' It's just being a coward!"
Dorian blinked in genuine confusion. "If that is the case, then tell me... what
does 'Strength' mean to you?"
"THE STRONGEST IS THE STRONGEST, DAMMIT!"
Lihito settled back into his stance, pulling his right arm back to coil the
power for his Razor's Edge. He didn't take his eyes off Dorian for a heartbeat.
Then, a scene occurred that left Lihito—and the watchers—stunned.
Dorian slowly raised his hands, his fingers lightly touching in front of his
chest. He dropped into a slight crouch, shifting his legs with agonizing
slowness. His arms moved through the air in a fluid, hypnotic sequence, as if he
were performing a martial arts Kata in slow motion.
Finally, his right hand tightened into a fist, held high near his face with the
elbow tucked in. His left hand pressed down toward his waist. His knees were
bent, rooted to the earth. His entire body shuddered as his foot slammed into
the asphalt with a dull, heavy thud.
—THOOM!!
The moment the stance was complete, the atmosphere froze. Even Lihito felt a
bead of cold sweat roll down his forehead.
The man before him no longer felt like a senile old convict. He radiated the
primal, suffocating pressure of a man-eating tiger.
Lihito knew, deep down, that he couldn't win this. Not as he was now. But to
back down would be to let "defeat" consume him entirely.
There was only one way: forward!
Zip!
Lihito leaped laterally, launching a flying kick at Dorian. Dorian parried with
a glass-covered fist; the impact sliced open the skin of Lihito's ankle.
Ignoring the pain, Lihito landed, pivoted, and unleashed a frantic barrage of
punches, throwing everything he had at the giant.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A three-hit combo. Dorian blocked each one, the glass knuckles once again
shredding the skin of Lihito's forearms.
But as the exchange continued, Lihito noticed something strange. The number of
cuts he was receiving was decreasing. He felt like he was finally finding
Dorian's rhythm.
It's working!
Lihito's spirit soared. He pressed the attack with desperate intensity until he
finally spotted a "Golden Opening." He aimed straight for Dorian's chest,
unleashing his absolute finish.
If it hit, the blood loss alone would end the fight.
Now—!
[RAZOR'S EDGE]!
SHINK!
Lihito's five fingers swept across Dorian's chest.
He felt the contact. He felt the impact.
However... the spray of blood he expected never came. His fingers simply "slid"
across Dorian's skin, leaving no damage whatsoever.
"...Eh?"
Lihito looked at his hand in shock. It was coated in a mixture of his own blood
and... thick industrial grease.
The grease from Dorian's knuckles had transferred to Lihito's fingers through
their repeated collisions. The lubricating properties of the grease were so high
that Lihito's fingers couldn't gain the "traction" required to penetrate the
skin.
[RAZOR'S EDGE] had been neutralized by basic chemistry.
Everything—from the very first trade—had been part of Dorian's calculation!
"Are you surprised, Lihito-kun?"
Dorian reached out, seizing Lihito's wrist with an iron grip. He offered a
serene smile. "It seems that compared to talent and raw muscle... my 'Wisdom' is
still the superior force."
Before Lihito could retreat, Dorian yanked him forward, meeting him with a
massive, soul-crushing punch to the face.
BOOM!!
Lihito was launched backward, crashing hard into the pavement. Blood poured from
his face, his body twitching as his mind spiraled into a haze. He tried to push
himself up, but his motor functions had been deleted.
"Hmph..."
Dorian prepared to step in for a lethal follow-up, but he caught the collective
gaze of the masters in the courtyard. He sighed and stopped his advance. "Fine.
I suppose that is enough for one day."
After nearly a minute of recovery, Lihito managed to drag himself to his feet.
With heavy, stumbling steps, he returned to the courtyard and sat back in his
original spot. Sayaka Katahara rushed over to hand him a roll of bandages.
"H-Haha... man, that bathroom floor is really slippery. Took a hell of a
spill..."
Lihito gritted his teeth as he plucked shards of glass out of his own face. He
looked at Dorian in the distance, maintaining his usual boisterous grin, but his
knuckles were white as he clenched his fists in silent, burning frustration.
"..."
Doppo looked at Lihito and gestured to Katsumi. "Strong, isn't he?"
Katsumi looked confused, but beside him, Ren Shiroki nodded. "Yeah. Staying true
to yourself right until the very end—that's a rare kind of strength."
Katsumi realized then that they weren't talking about combat power. They were
talking about a man who possessed a "lethal weapon" yet viewed it as his Martial
Art, refusing to treat it as a mere "murder tool" like Dorian did.
Dorian stood quietly in the street, using his scorched hoodie to wipe the grease
and glass from his hands, waiting for his next challenger.
Metsudo turned to Rama XIII with a mischievous glint. "If all the warriors lose,
I suppose it'll have to be us two in the ring next!"
Rama chuckled, tilting his head. "Hahaha! Now that would be a headline that
would shock the world."
The joke made Metsudo's guards incredibly nervous. Dorian's power was
undeniable. While Rama had Gaolang, Metsudo hadn't brought any of his top-tier
"Fangs" with him today. If Dorian made a move on the Chairman, the consequences
would be catastrophic.
Seeing his guards' stiff expressions, Metsudo waved them off. "Don't worry. This
will be over soon."
"...Indeed."
Ren Shiroki was already on his feet. In the shadows behind him, the ink-wash
lines coalesced into the towering silhouette of Sagat, looking out at Dorian
with pure disdain.
[A man who has strayed so far from the Path of Strength that he can no longer
even answer what 'Strength' is... Hmph.]
Zip.
Ren began walking toward the gate.
However, Dorian ignored Ren completely. He rolled his neck and looked past him.
"So, is my next opponent the Bushin, Doppo Orochi? Or is it the Fist Master,
Retsu Kaioh?"
He spoke as if Ren Shiroki wasn't even worth his attention.
To Dorian's surprise, Ren didn't get angry. He simply stopped, turned around,
and sat back down in his original spot, resting his chin on his palm with a look
of boredom.
Ren looked at Dorian. "If that's how you feel, then fighting you now has no
value. I'll wait until you've run out of excuses... and then I'll beat you
senseless."
"..."
Dorian blinked, seemingly at a loss for words. He eventually burst into a fit of
laughter, reaching into his pocket and tossing a few remaining shards of glass
onto the pavement.
Had Ren lunged forward in a rage, Dorian would have used those shards for a
blinding sneak attack to seize the initiative.
The display of cowardice made Gaolang scowl. "Disgraceful methods. There is no
honor in his style. It's revolting."
"Oh?"
Dorian looked toward Retsu Kaioh. "Retsu-kun. Do you agree with him? Do you
think my battle—and I myself—am without value?"
"..."
The group looked at Retsu in confusion, only to find the Fist Master staring at
Dorian with a look of profound, haunting realization. Retsu was deep in a
memory.
Dorian's previous movements—the slow-motion Kata—had finally confirmed Retsu's
suspicion.
"Many years ago, before I inherited the name of 'Kaioh,' my Master took me to
see a 'Miracle'..."
"Beneath the White Forest Temple, there is a cavern that connects the inner
sanctum directly to the outer cliffside."
"It is a tunnel over a hundred meters deep, wide enough for two men to walk
abreast."
"Over forty years ago, a man carved that tunnel. He used no tools—no picks, no
shovels. Using only his bare hands and feet, he hammered through the solid
rock... and he did it in a single night."
"Though he was a foreigner, a Westerner, his mastery of Kenpo was so absolute
that he was granted the title of Kaioh."
Retsu stood up. He faced Dorian, his right palm meeting his left fist in a
formal, respectful salute.
"The puzzle is solved. It is an honor to meet you... Dorian Kaioh."
(End of Chapter)
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