The rain was now so violent it was nearly impossible to keep one's eyes open.
Kitae Kim struck first. He used no complex stance, launching a simple, singular straight jab. But it was a heavy artillery shell of peak speed and raw power; before the fist even arrived, the pressure of the strike tore a vacuum through the curtain of rain behind Baki.
'Is this the legendary bloodline...? The weight of it is enough to make me vomit.'
Faced with a blow capable of piercing solid steel, Baki didn't dodge.
The moment the fist made contact with his cheek, Baki's body suddenly became as light as a feather. He drifted backward, perfectly flowing with the direction and momentum of the punch.
Defensive Xiaoli.
Kitae's brow furrowed slightly. It felt like he had punched a cloud of thin air.
Still mid-air, Baki used the force of the push to whip his body around. His right leg slashed through the rain like a steel blade, aiming a sharp arc at Kitae's ankle.
Re-Taekwondo: Lowest Roundhouse Kick.
THUD!
A circle of muddy water exploded from the ground. Kitae's frame didn't budge. His resistance—a threshold that sat above all other "Kings"—allowed him to stand like an iron pillar rooted to the earth's core. He took the heavy kick head-on.
"Soft. Haven't you eaten today?" Kitae snorted. He flattened his fingers into a rigid spear and lunged at Baki's chest.
Baki's eyes sharpened. His body displayed a suppleness that defied the laws of physics.
'If I can't break the shell, I'll rattle the inside.'
Baki twisted to avoid the lethal strike, using his left elbow to parry Kitae's arm aside.
Simultaneously, he coiled his right fist back and concentrated his entire body weight into a single point, slamming it directly into Kitae's solar plexus.
Offensive Xiaoli.
DONG!
The muffled impact made the very air vibrate.
Kitae's face, usually a mask of calm, finally contorted. The punch bypassed his vaunted muscular defense, vibrating his internal organs directly. His massive frame was forced back three full steps, each footprint shattering the concrete beneath him.
"That move had some teeth," Kitae muttered, wiping blood from his lip as the aura of despair around him intensified. "But it's not enough."
He lunged forward with a burst of speed that looked like teleportation, slamming into Baki's space and unleashing a frantic barrage of fists.
Baki took a sharp breath, his eyes bloodshot.
'My body's starting to protest... is this the price of the rotation?'
'Not yet! Faster!'
Ignoring the agonizing sensation of tearing muscle, Baki forced a 3rd Stance Hwechook at point-blank range.
The first kick landed on Kitae's shoulder; Kitae tanked it. The second was caught by Kitae's forearm guard.
At the exact peak where the two forces collided, Baki used the recoil of the first two strikes to execute a third, accelerated rotation in mid-air. His heel swung with devastating centrifugal force, aimed straight for the back of Kitae's skull.
3rd Stance Hwechook: Final Strike.
Kitae sensed a brush with death. Instead of flinching, he followed his instinct, snapping his head forward to meet Baki's heavy kick with his own forehead.
BOOM!
The sound of bone hitting bone drowned out the thunder.
Kitae's forehead was a mess of gore, but he grinned through the blood. His right hand shot out like a lightning bolt, clamping onto Baki's ankle before it could retract.
"Caught you, bastard."
The muscles in Kitae's arms strained until the skin began to split. He prepared to tear Baki apart.
But there was no fear in Baki's eyes—only calculation.
Even with his ankle trapped, Baki twisted his torso violently, his free leg snapping around Kitae's neck like a python.
Re-Taekwondo: Hoe Hook.
"Get down!"
Using the explosive power of his core, Baki dragged Kitae's massive weight down with him, slamming the giant into the muddy wreckage.
The two tumbled through the slush and debris, the crowd erupting into a near-manic roar.
It was a primal struggle between two monsters.
Mud splashed as Baki and Kitae put distance between each other once again.
Baki steadied his footing and wiped a smear of blood from his chin. He looked at the giant before him and let out a short, sharp laugh—one laced with a hint of disdain.
"Kitae Kim, I finally see through you," Baki panted, though his voice remained steady.
"You have the body of a monster, but you don't actually know how to fight."
Kitae narrowed his eyes, offering no rebuttal.
"What a waste of potential," Baki continued. "Anyone else who's fought as many battles as you would have polished their own style by now. But you're too strong. Your body is too convenient. You've always been able to simply overpower everyone with brute force. You never needed techniques, let alone a strategy. This body was your blessing, but today, it's your curse. And it's going to cost you dearly."
Kitae let out a cold, self-deprecating chuckle. "Is that so? Maybe. I've never had to push myself to the limit, so I don't even know where my 'limit' is. But thanks to you, I guess I'm finally going to find out today."
"Fine by me," Baki's gaze sharpened. "I'd like to see my own limits, too."
They collided again.
As the fight ground on, the momentum began to shift. Baki's assault became an airtight cage. His Renewal Taekwondo, fused with Xiaoli, made every strike surgical and lethal. To everyone's shock, Kitae was being pushed back. His massive frame retreated under the weight of Baki's combinations until his back slammed into the market's perimeter wall.
A flicker of surprise crossed Kitae's eyes, but it was quickly swallowed by a more manic, desperate violence.
Whoosh—!
Punches infused with pure despair began to whistle through the rain. Kitae's speed was ramping up, his power becoming nonsensical.
'I can't fully deflect this... Xiaoli isn't enough to neutralize this density of impact.'
Baki felt a dull, leaden ache radiating from deep within his chest.
Kitae's fists were no longer mere swings; every strike carried a crushing pressure that seemed to squeeze the very air out of the atmosphere. Even with Xiaoli engaged, that arrogant, piercing force bypassed the redirection of his muscles, vibrating his internal organs with direct, jarring impacts.
'Tsk... have I hit the ceiling of what Xiaoli can neutralize?'
Kitae let out a manic laugh, his right hand snapping open into an eagle-claw grip as he lunged for Baki's shoulder. Baki retreated instantly, his torso arching back at an impossible angle while his right leg whipped upward in response.
Renewal Taekwondo: Aerial Attack.
The kick landed flush on Kitae's wrist, intended to parry the grab. Yet, Kitae didn't even flinch. He let the kick land, using the split-second contact to track Baki's movement. His left hand followed up like a lightning strike—fingers tucked into a rigid blade, thrusting directly at the knee of Baki's supporting leg.
It was a dirty, efficient way to fight. Mid-air, Baki forcibly twisted his hips, tucking his left leg in while his right leg executed a second, accelerated sweep before he even touched the ground.
THWACK!
Baki's shin slammed heavily into the side of Kitae's neck.
Kitae's head was whipped to the side, but his monstrous resilience saved him once again. Instead of resisting the impact, he spun with it, using the momentum to drive an unimaginably heavy elbow strike straight into Baki's solar plexus.
Unable to fully dissipate the force in time, Baki could only cross his arms in a desperate guard.
BOOM—!
Baki was launched like a cannonball, his feet carving two deep trenches through the mud for over ten meters until he smashed through a row of wooden fish crates.
His arms were trembling; the white-hot flash of a possible bone fracture forced him to draw a sharp, jagged breath.
"Is that all you've got?" Kitae stepped over the splintered wood, his muscles engorged and glistening with a mix of rain and blood. "Your technique is flashy, I'll give you that. But against absolute power, flair is just a fragile ornament."
Baki spat out a mouthful of blood, his eyes turning predatory. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, his entire skeletal structure emitting faint, groaning protests from the overload.
'So this is the true power of the Gapryong bloodline... total, unreasonable suppression.'
'But, it also proves you're the best sandbag I've ever had.'
Baki dropped back into a stance, his center of gravity dangerously low. His eyes stopped tracking Kitae's specific movements, entering a state of total, relaxed meditation.
Kitae charged again. Every step felt like a localized earthquake. His massive fist whistled through the air, descending like a falling monument.
Baki didn't retreat. He lunged into the wind of the punch. The moment they touched, his body became as soft as willow down, sliding past Kitae's arm and deep into his personal space.
Xiaoli—Offensive Entry.
Baki's shoulder slammed into Kitae's sternum. Before the giant could react, Baki's right hand coiled—fingers slightly bent—and the power of his entire body surged from his spine to his fingertips, exploding at point-blank range.
PAP-PAP-PAP-PAP!
A series of rapid-fire cracks, like a string of firecrackers, erupted. In under two seconds, Baki unleashed dozens of short, piercing "Inch Power" strikes, every single one hammering the exact same spot where Kitae's internal organs were already rattled.
Kitae sprayed a mist of blood, his body staggering back involuntarily.
Both men had completely abandoned defense. The fight had evolved into a primal exchange of meat and bone: one side fueled by an unparalleled, monstrous physique, the other by a technique and will honed to a razor's edge.
Rain hit their scalding skin and instantly turned into wisps of white steam.
'Can't drag this out any longer.'
Baki felt the warning signals from his nervous system and decided to end it with one move.
He adjusted his stance, allowing his joints to go completely limp. He closed his eyes, his brain accelerating into a state of extreme "image training."
'Shoulder, elbow, wrist... no. It's not just three joints. I have thousands of joints. My arm is a whip.'
The Mach Punch.
By aligning every joint perfectly and imagining his limb as a multi-segmented lash, Baki prepared to break the sound barrier. The last time he used this, his hand was pulverized. This time, after grueling specific training, he knew how to manage the friction—but the cost would still be high.
Kitae felt it. A reaper-like chill was coalescing around Baki's fist.
For the first time in his life, Kitae's eyes widened with genuine, horrifying fear. He had spent his life killing others to inspire fear, but now, he was tasting it himself. It was a bone-deep cold that threatened to paralyze him.
'It's coming...'
Kitae knew he couldn't dodge. He let out a roar, tensing every muscle fiber in his body to its absolute limit, bracing his arms for the impact.
Baki moved.
There were no flashy acrobatics—just a single, focused straight punch.
BOOM—!
The moment the fist connected with Kitae's guard, a thunderous sonic boom tore through Jagalchi Market. It was the ultimate clash between the greatest defense and the greatest offense, but this time, the offense was absolute.
The shockwave flipped heavy fish crates and vaporized the mist in the air.
When the dust finally settled, a massive crater sat in the center of the arena, looking as if a meteor had struck the earth.
Kitae was nowhere to be seen, blasted somewhere far beyond the wreckage.
Baki stood hunched over in the center of the devastation, breathing in jagged rasps. His right arm was a grotesque sight—the skin had been shredded away by the friction, leaving the raw, dark red muscle exposed.
'The cost was high... but it's over.'
The silence was total. The "Jinrang Gang," the tycoons, and the remaining audience stood frozen, staring at Baki as if he were a god of ruin.
The sound that finally broke the silence was the distant, piercing wail of sirens.
Wooo—Wooo—!
The police were here.