A few months later.
Park Baki sat on a large boulder beside the wooden house, chewing on a skewer of dango, eyes half-closed as he watched the kids training below.
He chewed for a while, then his brow creased.
"Tch! You little brats, don't you have anything better to do? Don't you have school?"
Taebong stopped his workout and puffed out his chest. "We're Cheonliang fam! We don't go to any school!"
The words had barely left his mouth before Hyungjae reached over and chopped him on the back of the head.
"Baki-hyung, it's the weekend. No school today."
Baki nodded and looked over at Hyungjae. "You know what, Hyungjae, you're the smartest one out of this whole bunch. What are you doing hanging around these idiots?"
Hyungjae could only scratch the back of his head awkwardly and say nothing.
Just then, the door of the wooden house swung open.
Seongji walked out. His hair had grown down to his shoulders. A jacket was draped over his shoulders, and he had a dango skewer in his hand, eating as he walked over. He reached the boulder where Baki was sitting, hopped up, and sat beside him.
Baki glanced sideways. "Hey, Seongji. Do you actually want to train these brats?"
Seongji looked out at the kids. "Yeah. Don't you think it's too lonely with just the two of us here?"
Baki stared at him for a moment, then reached up and ruffled his own hair. "Whatever you want."
Footsteps came up the mountain path.
Seongji jumped down from the boulder and looked toward the sound. Baki didn't move, just kept chewing.
The newcomer wore a coat and glasses. He walked into the yard, swept a brief glance over the training kids, then his eyes landed on Seongji and stopped.
He muttered quietly to himself. "The monster of Cheonliang Mountain..."
Seongji looked at him. "Who are you?"
The man straightened his tie. "My name is Kwak Jichang."
"I'm Yuk Seongji," Seongji said. "What are you doing here?"
Jichang looked around the yard. His gaze passed over Baki for a moment. "I heard there were monsters here. It seems..." He paused. "Only half of that is true."
Baki still had dango in his mouth, but his eyes had changed.
He jumped down from the boulder, cracked his neck, and stepped forward. "Hey. Don't you think it's a bit rude to talk like that the first time you meet someone?"
Jichang looked at him. "I think it's ruder to start talking to someone without introducing yourself first."
"Is that so?" Baki shrugged. "Fine. I'm Baki. Hanma Baki. You've seen whatever you came to see, so you can go now."
Jichang didn't answer.
He slowly took off his coat.
Baki watched him settle into a stance, and the corner of his mouth moved.
'This guy... is interesting.'
He wanted to go. Something inside him had already started stirring, itching to move. But he glanced sideways, saw Seongji standing there, then looked at the kids below — every one of them had stopped training and was staring at this side of the yard with wide, expectant eyes.
'What's this?' He pushed the urge down and stepped back to the boulder, sitting back on top of it. 'Do these brats want to see Seongji fight?'
He jerked his chin toward Seongji. "Tch. Seongji, go teach this glasses-wearing bastard a lesson for me. Your students are all watching. Don't let them see their master lose."
Seongji didn't say anything.
He took the jacket off his shoulders and tied it tightly around his waist.
"I want to see where I'm at," he said. "So don't hold back."
Jichang heard that, and something shifted briefly at the corner of his mouth.
The kids immediately scattered to the sides. Taebong's eyes went wide with excitement. The others held their breath.
Jichang took off his glasses, folded them carefully, and set them on top of his neatly arranged coat. His stance shifted. Weight evenly distributed, both hands hanging loose at his sides, fingers slightly curled.
"Show me what the Monster of Cheonliang can do."
Seongji didn't respond.
He slowly lowered his center of gravity and settled into his stance, all twelve fingers spreading wide, as if gripping the ground itself.
Jichang moved first.
He closed the distance fast. His right hand shot out, fingers pressed together into a blade, slicing toward the side of Seongji's neck. Seongji barely got his arm up in time. The block deflected it but a red line opened across his forearm. His eyes sharpened slightly.
'Fast.'
Jichang didn't give him a breath. His left came in immediately at the temple, then his right again at the throat, then left, right, left — a relentless chain of hand blade strikes that pushed Seongji steadily backward. Seongji's arms moved frantically to cover, but several got through, landing on his ribs and shoulders. Each one hit like a metal rod, not flesh.
One of the kids yelled, "Seongji-hyung!"
Baki had stopped chewing. His eyes were sharp now.
'This guy's hand technique isn't simple. Every strike is precise. There are years behind each one.'
Jichang wove kicks into the combination, landing one on Seongji's lead leg that broke his footing, then immediately followed with a spinning back elbow that caught Seongji across the cheek.
Seongji stumbled backward. Blood in his mouth. His cheek was already swelling.
Jichang moved in to finish it — but as the next hand blade came toward his face, Seongji didn't block.
His hand shot out and grabbed Jichang's wrist mid-strike.
All twelve fingers closed around it.
Jichang's eyes changed for the first time. The pressure was like a clamp. He threw a knee toward Seongji's gut immediately, but Seongji used the grip to control his balance, wrapped his other arm around Jichang's waist, dropped his level, and lifted.
Jichang left the ground.
Seongji drove him into the earth.
Dust exploded outward.
The kids erupted. "Yes! Teacher!"
But Jichang rolled out of the impact and was back on his feet in the same motion, brushing off his clothes and rotating his grabbed wrist. "Twelve-fingered grip strength. The rumors weren't exaggerated." His stance shifted, tighter and more defensive. "Let's see if you can catch me again."
He came back in, but differently this time.
His hand blade strikes were laced with feints now — fake openings designed to bait the grab. Every time Seongji reached for what looked like an exposed arm, Jichang would snap it back and counter with a knee or elbow. A knee to the ribs. An elbow clipping the temple.
But Seongji was changing as the fight went on.
When Jichang launched another hand blade combination, Seongji didn't block straight. He slipped inside, ducking under a high strike and getting inside the effective range. His twelve-fingered hand shot out and caught the collar this time, and his foot swept Jichang's base leg at the same moment.
Jichang hit the ground again.
Seongji kept the grip and transitioned to a wrist lock, his extra fingers finding angles that four fingers never could. Jichang felt the joint pressure building, didn't fight it, rolled with the force and converted it into a kick that hit Seongji square in the chest and forced the separation.
Both of them stood up breathing harder. Sweat running down their faces.
"You figured out the counter mid-fight," Jichang said.
Seongji wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. "Your hand blade is powerful. But once someone gets inside your range, you can't generate the same force."
Jichang raised an eyebrow. "You worked that out already?"
Seongji just smiled.
They went at each other again.
The rhythm had changed. Seongji was mixing throws and strikes together now, building something that fit his body specifically, targeting the distance problem every time. When Jichang threw a hand blade, Seongji stepped in to grab. When Jichang tried to reset with footwork, Seongji closed the gap and pressed. Seongji's palm heel caught Jichang across the face. Jichang's elbow split Seongji's eyebrow open in return.
Blood on both of them now. Neither one pulling ahead.
They charged each other one final time. Jichang threw his fastest combination yet. Seongji blocked every strike. Seongji grabbed the wrist again — Jichang used it as a pivot this time, swinging his body around for a spinning kick at Seongji's head.
Seongji yanked the wrist downward and dropped his level. The kick sailed over his head. In the same motion, he swept Jichang's supporting leg.
Both of them went down. Seongji landed on top, twelve fingers locked around Jichang's collar.
Jichang's hand blade was pressed lightly against Seongji's throat, drawing a thin line of blood.
Neither of them moved.
Several seconds passed.
Seongji spoke first, his voice tight. "...Draw?"
Jichang looked at him for a moment, then lowered his hand. "Draw."
They helped each other up. The kids surged forward, but Baki waved them back with one hand.
He dropped down from the boulder and tossed his empty skewer aside. "Not bad, Seongji."
Jichang put his coat and glasses back on, unhurried despite everything. He looked at Seongji differently now. "The Monster of Cheonliang. I understand the title." He adjusted his coat. "Rough, unpolished, but the potential is real. If the fight had gone longer, I'm not sure I would have won."
Seongji touched his swollen cheek and winced. "Your hand blade is terrifying. I've never faced anything like it. A few more minutes and..."
Jichang smiled faintly. "Maybe. Maybe not."
Baki walked forward and cut in. "Hey, glasses. Done testing? Or do you want to go a round with me next?"
Jichang let out a short laugh, then immediately grimaced as his ribs made themselves known. "Another time. I've seen what I needed to see." He looked at Seongji. "We'll meet again, Yuk Seongji. Next time, I won't hold back."
"Neither will I," Seongji said.
Jichang turned toward the mountain path. A few steps down, he looked back. "If you ever come to Seoul, ask around for the name Seoul's White Viper. You'll find me."
His figure disappeared around the bend.
Hyungjae whispered, "Did... did Teacher almost win?"
Baki grunted. "Win is putting it strongly. But if it had gone longer, Seongji would've had the advantage. That kid learns way too fast for his own good."
Seongji dropped straight down onto the ground, completely spent.
The kids crowded around him immediately, all talking at once.
Baki stood with his hands in his pockets, looking toward the mountain path where Jichang had gone.
'Seoul's White Viper...' he thought. 'Next time, I'll be the one going.'