Chapter 471: The Earth's Core
Every single spectator present could instinctively feel it.
Ren Shiroki versus J. Guevara—this battle had long since shattered the
structural limits of what The Inside could contain, ascending into an entirely
higher plane of existence!
Hiss—huu—
The autumn wind howled.
Guevara's physique seemed warped by the rushing currents of air, his entire
frame swaying before locking tight as his muscles contracted in precise rhythm
with his breathing.
At that moment, Guevara didn't resemble a "human" anymore; he was a primal, apex
predator!
White steam plumed from his nose and mouth. Not a single gram of superfluous fat
remained on his frame; every muscle fiber was coiled around his bones like
industrial-grade steel wire.
This was a body that even the mightiest military might of America could never
bend!
"Good..."
Guevara's torso twisted slightly, maintaining absolute balance as he raised his
eyes to fixate on Ren.
[The Soul Combatant] Ren Shiroki—
You aren't some world-renowned celebrity or political titan; you're just a
wandering martial artist carving out your own path.
Yet, precisely because of that, the purity of your value shines all the
brighter!
That unyielding fighting spirit of yours, those bottomless martial techniques,
that unbreakable body, those fists forging their way through the Dao—
The totality of what you represent fills me with genuine, heartfelt awe!
The "combat" carried within that body of yours makes me want to thank you from
the very bottom of my heart!!
"Hah—"
A wave of rolling heat surged within Guevara's chest, venting two parallel
plumes of white vapor from his nostrils.
Swish!
Guevara raised his right arm high, pointing a single finger directly toward the
heavens.
The wind picked up!
Whoosh! Whoosh!
An even more ferocious gale swept across the plaza, driving the clouds in the
sky scattering toward the horizon, while sending a sharp, electric jolt straight
through the minds of everyone watching.
"W—what is happening?"
"Oh-oh, the wind's rising again?"
"Guevara is calling down the wind!!"
"Those invisible air currents... it's like they're following his direct
commands!"
"Can Ren possibly survive this?!"
"..."
He would survive it.
Of that, Guevara was 100% certain.
Looking up at Ren, he saw that the young man had already settled into a solid
side-facing stance, his left hand pressing downward while his right arm guarded
his ribs—the exact same posture they had traded blows from earlier.
That posture was magnificent!
Before a battle began, it radiated an aura of vibrant life and extraordinary
poise.
When pushed to the absolute brink, even when blood leaked freely from his nose,
eyes, and mouth, he could still lean upon that very posture and refuse to fall!
So, yes—magnificent!
"..."
Ren Shiroki, you possess every right to stand here—
If I want to settle this cleanly with you, I have to use this!
Guevara's brow furrowed deep as he began to articulate the philosophy behind his
ultimate technique.
"The history of hand-to-hand combat—the history of martial arts itself—is
directly tied to the history of humanity."
"Humans have endlessly oscillated between the worship and the rejection of pure
muscle."
"Ultimately, through the mastery of relaxation, we unlocked speed."
"Power, relaxation, center of gravity, speed, angles, vital points..."
"Followed by internal energy, and even breathing."
"Countless people have poured boundless creativity, relentless study, and
radical innovation into their craft, achieving countless dazzling milestones."
Guevara's tone shifted sharply.
"And yet, modern martial arts suffer from a single, fatal blind spot—one that
hasn't advanced a single step since the primitive era of clubs and stone axes!"
"——"
Hearing those words, the other martial artists scattered among the crowd pricked
up their ears in intense curiosity.
Gensai Kuroki muttered in a deep rumble, "Hmm... is this the Second's
proprietary theory?"
Tokita Niko leaned in, eyes sharpening. "Heh, this part sounds worth listening
to..."
Raian Kure scoffed, turning his head away in feigned disinterest, though his
ears were visibly straining to catch every syllable.
"Let me tell you what it is—"
Guevara planted both feet firmly against the earth. "It is support!"
"To say nothing of other martial arts, even traditional styles spanning
thousands of years treat 'the ground used for support' as nothing more than a
flat, two-dimensional surface."
"——What a colossal waste."
Guevara's eyes widened, his voice ringing with absolute conviction. "Whether
it's boxing, sumo, or any other combat discipline out there, not a single one
ever questions the premise of treating the earth as a mere inclined plane."
"Pushing off a slope to jump, or relying on surface friction to move... using
methods as crude as that."
"No wonder you're all forced to rely on raw muscle mass."
"Because you fail to recognize the magnificent supporting body known as 'Planet
Earth'!"
Guevara spread all ten fingers wide, pressing his palms downward toward the
ground.
"You haven't the slightest comprehension of what lies beneath the earth—not even
a single centimeter down. You simply stand upon it as if it were a floor..."
As he spoke, Guevara resumed his advance, closing the distance to Ren.
"Right now, you are about to experience firsthand the crushing hardness of the
earth's very core—located 6,378,000 meters beneath your feet!!"
"..."
Ren watched Guevara in absolute silence.
He watched him tread the earth, observed the way he rooted himself to it, and
recalled every single bout he had fought.
For the man standing before him, that physical body was merely a fraction of "J.
Guevara"; the rest of his power was anchored all the way down to a molten core
lying 6,378,000 meters deep!
It was a foundation of stance-work that made any traditional rooting or footwork
look like child's play!
Neither the [Umibozu]'s devastating blows nor the Caracal's ferocious kicks had
been able to budge him so much as a millimeter!
—How utterly beautiful!
"Come to think of it..."
Ren's gaze sharpened as he tasted the coppery tang of blood pooling in his
mouth, fixing his eyes on Guevara. "I've got a 'ground-anchoring' punch of my
own, too."
At that exact moment, Guevara closed to point-blank range.
Hiss—
Ren exhaled a plume of hot air, snapping a lightning-fast left straight down the
pipe.
Bang!
The punch caught Guevara squarely on the bridge of the nose, spraying a fresh
mist of blood.
The next instant—
Ren dropped into a compressed squat, sinking his weight into a deep bow stance.
He extended his left hand forward to maintain balance, pulling his right fist
tight against his waist.
His leg muscles corded taut. With an explosive stomp against the pavement, his
entire body uncoiled like a compressed steel spring, rocketing upward as he
launched a devastating right uppercut!
[RYU: SHORYUKEN (DRAGON RISE)]!
Whish-la!
The fist drove upward like a rising piston, zeroing in on Guevara's chest.
Yet, ignoring the blinding pain and blood streaming from his nose, Guevara
snapped half a step backward, leaning his upper torso into a dramatic limbo bend
to slip cleanly beneath the Shoryuken's arc.
Simultaneously, leveraging the retreat of his left leg and coordinating with the
pivot of his right foot, as Ren rose into the air along with the trajectory of
his missed punch, Guevara's entire frame uncoiled like a loaded spring.
Snap!
Guevara drove a heavy palm strike straight upward into Ren's abdomen, driving
him even higher into the air with an explosive surge of kinetic energy.
Swish——
Guevara tracked upward with his eyes, locking his blazing gaze onto the airborne
Ren.
My feet!
Reach down and grab it—
Grab onto that mass buried far deeper than the underworld, the absolute center
of this planet! Grab onto the hardness of that 'Earth's Core'!!
BOOM!
Guevara stomped his foot and snapped his hips, channeling the full, unbridled
support of the planet beneath him as he drove his right fist upward with
apocalyptic force—delivering a blow born straight from 6,378,000 meters beneath
the crust—
[CORE DRILL / EARTH CORE STRIKE]!
"Shrah!"
KABOOM——!!
A deafening, earth-shattering roar detonated from the point of impact, rippling
outward like a localized supernova explosion that shook the entirety of The
Inside and echoed far beyond its borders!
"——?!"
Suspended helplessly in mid-air, Ren watched Guevara's heavy fist driving
straight up toward him. With zero room left to dodge, he could only cross his
arms into a desperate, hard-shell guard.
"Hah!"
The colossal fist smashed against Ren's crossed forearms, giving him the
instantaneous, jarring hallucination that he had just hit the "ground."
It felt as though he had fallen from the stratosphere and slammed headfirst into
the planetary mass; no matter how much he wished to avoid it, impact was
impact—inevitable and absolute!
Guevara's punch gave Ren the visceral illusion that the entire planet Earth was
being hurled directly into his face!
"Uwaaah!"
Ren bared his teeth in a savage wince as the sheer tonnage of the strike cracked
his guard open. At the same time, Ren consciously leveraged the upward kinetic
energy, willingly allowing himself to be launched even higher into the sky to
dissipate the force.
Bang!
Breaking through Ren's arm guard, Guevara's fist hammered squarely into Ren's
face.
Ren's head snapped violently backward, utilizing the recoil as another vector to
shed kinetic energy.
Applying advanced [Parkour] redirection principles to hand-to-hand combat, Ren
treated his own "face" as the landing foot, actively executing a backward flip
in mid-air to bleed off the remaining trauma—
Swish-la-la!
Carried by the whistling wind, Ren tumbled through the air like a rolling
cartwheel, soaring higher and higher while trailing a crimson arc of blood from
his nose, eyes, and mouth.
La-la-la————
"..."
Ren could feel the heavy, iron tang of blood suffusing the air around him as he
drifted through the heavens.
Three meters? Five meters?
He was probably quite high up—
His arms throbbed with a white-hot, agonizing numbness, and his face felt like
it had been shattered into gravel—making him want to curl up, weep openly, and
hide beneath a warm blanket where nobody could ever find him.
And yet—
Of course—!
Only by taking this path could he truly come to understand J. Guevara!
"..."
"..."
Who on earth was [The Second]?
President? Challenger of America? Second-generation? Warrior?
Simple, generic labels like that were utterly useless when it came to capturing
the essence of the man.
Therefore, if one truly wished to understand him, there was only one choice: you
had to face a punch like that. Whether you blocked it, dodged it, or absorbed it
head-on—you had to face it!
Face him—!
Face his boundless passion, his code of honor, his fierce devotion, and his
fighting spirit anchored deep within the molten earth at 6,378,000 meters
below—the [Earth's Core Strike]!
☆☆☆
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