I Became a Mafia in the Academy - Chapter 270

Chapter 270

揙h? Isn抰 that a Japanese term?

厖She doesn’t seem to know about bokken.

“Oh, no, that’s just one of those things. But bokken?”

“Yes, bokken. Do you know anything about bokken?”

Unless it’s a game, the only thing I know about bokken is that it’s a simple shout that you make while moving forward.

When I answered as I knew it, Kwak Chun-sik nodded as if he knew what I was talking about.

“Then do it.”

“Do what?”

“I want you to try the bokken you know.”

“厖?”

Books and papers lay all around me and a bookshelf lining one wall.

I wondered if it was okay to punch in this room since it was the old man’s office.

“Well, it’s just a simple punch, so who says you can’t do it here? Can you try it?”

He stroked my ego and offered me a bandage.

I decided to do as he asked.

First, I plant my feet firmly on the ground, breathe evenly and slowly, letting my breath spread throughout my body.

Next, I make sure I’m aware of my target, step forward, and shift my center of gravity.

Extend my arms, making sure all the power is in my fists.

BANG!!!

The fist is thrust forward with force.

The air bursts from the sudden pressure, and an echoing explosion rings out. This much power without even using Aura.

“Ohhh.”

Kwak Chun-sik shakes his head as I execute the punch perfectly.

“I don’t know why you’re using such a strange chant, but厖it抯 wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

I was confident that at this level, the moment I put on aura, it would be effective enough to deal with the villains I met last time.

But I was wrong?

“Well, yes. Let’s go outside.”

“Why is it suddenly so厖.”

“Well, I抦 going to have to show you what you’re supposed to be learning.”

“No, didn’t you just say that it’s just simple punching and it’s okay to do it here?”

“That’s you. Are you the same as me?”

“No厖.”

It’s not the same thing厖I feel like the old man is being unfair.

At the same time, I secretly thought to myself.

慦hat is he trying to show me?

I couldn’t help but get excited.

I couldn’t help but look forward to it, because it was 憈hat’ Kwak Chun-sik, not someone else.

As I followed him outside, the crisp city air rushed through my lungs.

It was something I抳e always felt, but the air in the ballroom was completely different from the air in the city.

The old man seemed to be enjoying the air and slowly walked backwards to the arena with the scarecrows.

“Let me see厖Yes, this one should be good.”

Standing in front of the scarecrow, the old man began to walk backwards.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Four steps.

When he was out of arm’s reach he turned and looked at me.

“Now you抣l see why you were wrong.”

A cool breeze begins to blow, ruffling the hem of Kwok’s robe.

Suh–

It was a simple breath but its depth is constant.

He slowly moves his feet as if sweeping the floor.

The soles of his feet slowly touch the floor, like falling leaves but it was like an old tree rooted to the ground卆nd then.

-Bam!

His fist shot forward as if it was going to bounce off.

Crisp–!

At the same time, the face of a scarecrow in the distance was crushed and shattered.

Surely厖he didn’t seem to be using Aura?

A system window flashed before my eyes.

[You witnessed with your own eyes a technique that had reached the peak of power]

[Bokken (Collapse Fist), a technique of striking the opponent by concentrating the center of gravity on the fist.]

[The comprehension of Bokken is greatly increased]

What I just saw was said to be the peak but it was just a simple punch.

“Heh厖.”

Really, where is the end of the old man厖?

“By the look on your face, you must have realized the difference between you and me.”

揑 can抰 believe it even when I see it with my own eyes. Isn抰 it strange that I don抰 notice?

He threw up his hands in the air after hearing my words.

“Don’t talk. The others think I’m using Aura and say things like, “You’re amazing!” and “You’re awesome!” but by your reaction, you’ve realized that I’m not using Aura.”

It wasn’t a strange reaction.

Attacking a distant foe with purely physical strength and skill, was something difficult to understand with common sense.

Perhaps, unless one could read the aura’s flow as well as I could, it would be hard to recognize.

“Now, then, let me ask you. Eugene, what do you think is the difference between you and me?”

The question came out of nowhere but it was a question that got me thinking.

Kwak Chun-sik didn’t use aura, just an outstretched fist. If that’s the difference between him and me厖.

“Where did you put the power to make the fist, isn’t that enough?”

Was it because of the message window that said my comprehension had increased significantly earlier?

The answer flows out of my mouth and the old man smiles and nods.

“Yes, you’ve seen it right,” he says, “there’s more, but the biggest difference is what you said.”

As he says this, Kwak Chun-sik, who has turned back to me, grabs my fist and lifts it up.

“I’ve always felt that way. Your fighting style, did you learn it from Parnello?”

“What? How can I厖.?”

“A pretense is a pretense, boy. The way you attack using the most efficient route and your instincts, and the way you act like you’re 慼unting’ instead of fighting. Is there anyone else around you who fights like that besides Parnello?”

Listening to him, I realized that there certainly were.

I could see that my current fighting style was the result of a combination of my physical gifts and Parnello’s training.

“First, let’s get rid of some of that color.”

“What do you mean, get rid of the color?”

He let go of his fist at my question and pressed his hand to my shoulder, neck, and stomach.

“It’s true that it works for you but I think you’re gifted in other ways, too.”

“What do you mean by the other talent厖?”

“Think of your father, Vito Corleone.”

My father’s talent?

“Simple, swift, natural, and upright; to fight in such a way as to gain an advantage, always carrying on calculations in his head; and if that is not your father’s way, what is it? To put it in terms of analogy, it is like厖 half and half between Parnello and me.”

His words struck me as plausible again.

I, too, was not a fighter who fought completely on instinct, but rather one who calculated in the midst of battle.

“So let’s start by removing the coloring from the Parnello. For now厖 that is.”

As if he had an idea, he smirked and pointed to a rock off to one side of the arena.

“Start with thirty thousand times.”

* * *

Call it the calm before the storm.

Certainly, I thought yesterday was more relaxed and cozy than usual so I didn抰 expect this to happen today.

“Jaw厖Jaw厖.”

By now, I had passed the 10,000 mark.

Or was it more? To be honest, I lost count somewhere around the 8,000 mark.

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.

What is the rock I’m pounding on? My fists are still red despite all the pounding I’ve done with my awakened body but it stood firmly in place.

How did I make my fist, at what angle and how厖.

“Don’t let up. Keep going.”

Just as I was about to drift off into a daze, something tapped me on the shoulder from behind, snapping me back to consciousness.

It’s Kwak Chun-sik, my mentor, my teacher, and the man who told me to punch this rock 30.000 times.

“Don’t let your instincts tell you it’s hard. Don’t let your instincts take over. You must throw the most concise and precise punch possible, calculating everything so that the power is transferred to the tip of your fist.”

His words ring clear in my ears, and I snap back to reality.

What was the best punch I’ve ever thrown?

Suddenly, an image flashes through my mind.

厖My father’s punch.

Ariete (ram).

My father’s attack in Walpurgis was the best punch I’ve ever seen.

What was the angle, the distribution of force, the speed?

It was definitely like this厖.

-Tuduk.

That’s when my fist felt different.

The surface of the rock, which seemed to be unbreakable, was cracking, ever so slightly.

“Huh, I can tell who you were thinking about without looking. Yeah, that angle, that force, that speed, keep going.”

-Thud. Thud. Thud. Thump.

The sensation in my fingertips and the constant sound in my ears changed.

What was once a laborious activity starts to become more and more fun as time passes.

There was no point in counting anymore, I felt like I could do this for the rest of my life without eating or drinking, just by the simple act of making a fist.

Concentration. Concentration. Nothing but focus.

My mind went blank and I had a mysterious feeling of being on the edge of consciousness and unconsciousness.

-Thump! Thump! Thump-! Thump!

My thoughts of the rock have long since been erased.

My mind is only focused on making a fist and I didn’t even realize how much time has passed.

“Stop.”

“厖Huh. Hmph. Hmph. Hmph.”

Kwak Chun-sik’s voice snapped me back to full consciousness.

“That’s enough.”

His hand grabbed my fist.

My hand, which had been punching the rock, was already stained with blood to the point where I couldn’t recognize the color of my skin.

And the rock in front of me is厖.

“Did I do this?”

It was completely shattered and mixed with the blood-soaked dirt of the arena.

“Yeah, about 27,000 times, and then you just kept hitting the air, and I thought you were getting better and better at it, so I left you alone.”

I glanced up at the sky and saw the sun was slowly setting.

Before I knew it, the day had passed.

“Well, let’s go check it out.”

With that, he pointed to the scarecrow’s body with its head popped off again.

“Why don’t you punch that? Just punch it in the way you’re most confident in right now.”

“厖.”

I listen to him and slowly walk toward the scarecrow.

Chug-chug-chug-chug-chug

The distance between me and the scarecrow is four paces. I can’t even reach it with my feet.

But why? I’m convinced that if I make a fist, I will reach it.

I take a breath, clench my fist, and stare at the scarecrow in front of me.

Just as I had just done, I recreate the flow, the speed, the force, the trajectory of my fist.

No, reproduction wasn’t the right word right now, because it came out naturally, even without conscious thought.

–!

-Pow!

With a loud bang, the fist was thrown into the air卆t the same time.

-Palang-! L𝒂aTest nov𝒆ls on (n)𝒐velbi/𝒏(.)co𝒎

The scarecrow, which was clearly untouchable, swayed back and forth weakly.

“厖Sir. Did you see? The scarecrow moved.”

The scarecrow reacted, even though the fist was clearly not coated with aura.

“It didn’t move. The wind must have blown.”

“What wind? It was definitely my fist that moved it!”

The old man clicked his tongue when I said that I was sure it moved.

揂hh, tsk tsk厖Originally, I had planned to make you do this for a week, but I never thought it would happen in just one day. This is why talented people厖!

After grumbling like that, the old man throws something at me.

“Huh? What’s this?”

“You think you can go to the DMZ with your fists so tattered? Eat that and follow me!”

With that, he turned away while I stared at the object in my hand in disbelief.

[Name: Five Hundred Years Hashuo]

[Rank: Unique]

[Type: Elixir]

[Description: Five Hundred Years Hashuo Herb imbued with five hundred years of spiritual energy. It increases the regeneration power of the person who consumes it]

“厖sir.”

“Hmph, I’m going first!”

Really.

How dishonest of you厖.