It was fifteen days ago.
“Chohwigyeong…?”
Cheon Hwi, anticipating the possibility that Choa might not reach First-rate in time, taught her a martial art called Chohwigyeong.
“Yes. It’s the ultimate technique—the trump card that will act as your finishing move.”
Chohwigyeong.
A secret martial art Cheon Hwi created during his time at the Peak Realm, when he had yet to ascend beyond.
“In a martial artist’s battle, the realm—or level—is everything.”
“I-Is it really…?”
Indeed, realm played a massive role in any battle between martial artists.
But while lingering in the Peak Realm, Cheon Hwi had challenged that common wisdom.
Did realm truly determine victory without exception?
It might’ve sounded like a foolish question.
But the answer he uncovered from that doubt proved far from foolish.
“The point is this: it’s not absolute, just most of the time.”
A small smirk curled on Cheon Hwi’s lips.
“I found it. A martial art where the weak can defeat the strong. A technique for the underdog.”
It was a technique for the ordinary.
Unlike the chosen few who could easily leap from realm to realm, most martial artists hit a wall early and gave up on growth.
But Cheon Hwi had shattered that wall.
By pushing the energy of Jing (essence), Qi (life force), and Shen (spirit) to their extreme limits.
He created a technique that momentarily skyrocketed one’s combat power—violently, and massively.
“That’s Chohwigyeong.”
Before being dropped into the Martial World, Cheon Hwi had just been an ordinary kid who loved comics.
Because of that, he’d read countless action manga.
And Chohwigyeong was actually inspired by a famous move used by the protagonist of one such manga.
“It works by intentionally disrupting the balance of Jing-Qi-Shen and forcefully circulating that raw energy at high speed through your internal meridians, allowing you to draw out power far beyond your usual limit.”
Of course, it’s dangerous.
One misstep, and you could die.
Even if you control it successfully, the side effects are no joke.
But Chohwigyeong comes with a return that matches the risk.
It’s the very definition of high risk, high return.
“You get to wield power far beyond your limits, in the simplest, most straightforward way.”
It was Cheon Hwi’s trump card.
The very technique that allowed him, still stuck in the Mid Peak Realm at the time, to push back even Transcendent-level opponents.
And if Choa could pull it off, despite being only Second-rate, she could easily overwhelm even a top-tier C-rank Hunter.
Knowing that, Cheon Hwi had spent the last two weeks drilling it into her.
“This is… not bad at all. I feel it every time I teach her something new, but Choa really does have talent.”
“Hehe… thank you…!”
And when Choa finally mastered Chohwigyeong.
Cheon Hwi praised her—but added a stern warning.
“Still, right now your limit is a triple multiplier.”
He paused for a moment, sensing her condition through his Qi sense.
Then, unlike his usual tone, he completely dropped his smile.
His expression turned cold, almost frighteningly serious.
And in a low voice, he continued.
“Under no circumstances should you raise it to four times. Ever.”
Chohwigyeong isn’t some convenient skill that simply multiplies your strength.
It works by intentionally breaking the balance of Jing (essence), Qi (life force), and Shen (spirit), a balance that martial artists must normally maintain at all costs.
The technique forcibly weaponizes the recoil that would otherwise tear the user apart.
It takes power that the body was never meant to handle.
And by accelerating it through the body’s internal energy channels at unnatural speeds.
Allows the user to barely hold together long enough to unleash that strength.
It’s similar to how centrifugal force works in rapidly spinning objects.
“If you increase the multiplier carelessly, your body won’t survive it.”
In the end, no matter how clever the mechanics, the body must be able to endure it.
Without a body strong enough to withstand that extreme force and circulation—
It’s a death sentence.
“Understood?”
To his grave warning, Choa answered:
“Y-Yes, sir!”
She swore she’d never cross that line.
With Chohwigyeong now activated, Choa launched herself from the ground.
Shooting straight toward the Bloody Arachne like a bolt of red lightning.
‘She’s fast!’
Even Seo Ye-rin, following behind, had to admit it.
She was fast enough to startle an A-rank Hunter.
In the blink of an eye, Choa closed the distance.
She aimed directly for the spider’s weak spot.
‘After fighting so many of these, I know now… their weakness is the abdomen!’
A spider’s body is lifted off the ground by its eight legs.
That structure—her experience—flashed through her mind.
Choa’s crimson eyes glinted sharply as she analyzed the Bloody Arachne.
Its needle-point legs and steel-strong silk-spinning rear? Dangerous.
Which meant.
Avoid those two things, and nothing else should pose a threat.
Even its infamous poison, so deadly even to high-ranking Hunters?
It’s only spread by spit from its mouth, or coated on its legs.
In short—if you don’t get hit, it’s not a problem.
“KIEEEEEEK!!”
The Bloody Arachne finally registered Choa’s presence, the chaotic, lightning-fast approach of her warped trajectory.
And it moved.
Crack—! WHAM!
Slamming one of its front legs deep into the ground.
The monster tore up the earth, flipping rocks and dirt into the air.
Boulders and gravel shot toward Choa at terrifying speed.
While a thick cloud of dust rolled in to obscure her vision.
Worse yet.
In that fleeting moment, the spider had already secreted its venom.
Unlike the greenish poison of ordinary Arachne, this venom was dark, thick, and blood-red.
It clung to the debris like splattered paint.
The reason the Bloody Arachne earned its name.
With its blood-colored armor and poison—known as Blood Armor and Blood
Venom, this beast was infamous even among C-rank monsters.
To any regular C-rank Hunter, this would’ve been terrifying, a cue to retreat without hesitation.
But not Choa.
‘It made a mud bomb out of poison and dirt that fast?’
She noticed—then picked up speed.
Blood Sea Wandering Dragon Steps
One of the supreme footwork techniques of the Blood Heaven Blood Refinement Method.
Choa’s movement warped, erratic, fluid, unpredictable.
“What… is… that…”
Seo Ye-rin, who hadn’t even thought to step in yet.
Could only watch, dumbfounded.
Was this really a C-rank Hunter’s battle?
Even B-rank Hunters wouldn’t pull that off.
No—not even herself, an A-rank, felt confident she could fight with such finesse.
It wasn’t just about power.
It was how Choa used that power.
Every movement was sharp, calculated, and waste-free.
A masterclass of control and efficiency.
“Who in the world did she learn this from…?”
If she could learn even a fraction of that, she’d pay everything she had.
A top-tier Hunter, admired by thousands, felt a tinge of envy.
But Choa?
She no longer paid Seo Ye-rin any mind.
Her focus had long shifted away from the onlookers.
Her eyes held only one thing.
The monster she needed to hunt.
And she was locked in on it completely.
She moved like a hunter, her blade—a martial artist’s sword honed to lethal precision, slicing through the air with frightening elegance.
Her eyes, red like solidified blood, gleamed like crimson amber.
They locked onto the Bloody Arachne.
And just like an insect frozen in fosilized resin.
The Bloody Arachne was trapped, paralyzed in her gaze.
“KIEEEEEEKK!!”
The human face embedded in the spider’s head twisted grotesquely, fear, rage, agony, all warped into one hideous grimace.
But above all.
Choa could feel it instinctively: it was terrified.
The Bloody Arachne thrashed wildly, as if trying to claw its way out of a pool of sticky blood.
Its massive legs flailed erratically, desperate, furious.
But to Choa, it was meaningless.
‘What the… is the Bloody Arachne supposed to be this slow?’
That thought flashed through her mind as her eyes calmly scanned its movement.
The angles of its legs, even in chaos.
She could see them all.
She could predict them.
Which one would strike first.
Which would follow next.
Each limb’s arc played out like a pre-scripted performance.
The incoming rocks? She dodged effortlessly.
The clouded vision from kicked-up dirt? It didn’t matter.
Her senses, her instincts, her Qi, they all read the battlefield perfectly.
‘I’ve… really gotten stronger.’
It hit her suddenly but deeply.
She had changed.
Pride.
Joy.
A rush of euphoria.
Her mind lit up with fireworks.
And before she knew it, Choa’s lips curled into a playful, almost seductive smile.
Then—she swung her sword.
Graceful, precise, merciless.
She danced around the Bloody Arachne with silent steps and a blur of movement.
Every swing left a wound.
Blood sprayed.
The ground soaked it in.
The poison-soaked dirt became a dark, sticky swamp of gore.
Red blood on black soil.
A growing pool—gentle ripples across a crimson sea.
And above it, moving freely, beautifully, a golden dragon danced.
Choa stood before the Bloody Arachne, perfectly embodying the intent of Blood-Sea Swimming Dragon Steps.
After darting back and forth, slashing and slicing countless times, the spider was left a broken wreck, collapsed on the ground, barely twitching.
Shrrng.
Choa’s sword gleamed, catching the light.
The spider lifted its human-like head slightly, grimacing at the gleaming silver blade raised overhead.
Then.
Choa brought the sword down.
With a dazzling flash, the glow peeled away to reveal her poised form.
And in the same instant, the distorted human face on the spider twisted grotesquely.
Slice!
The sword shone like falling needles, cleanly severing the head from the body.
The spider’s body slumped, headless.
Its severed head splashed into the pool of blood below, sending ripples through the crimson surface.
Frozen in an expression of terror and shock, the Bloody Arachne moved no more.
“…My god.”
Seo Ye-rin, who had watched everything unfold, finally gasped in stunned awe.
But Choa ignored even that, and casually bent forward.
Then.
Drip.
Slurp.
She took a sip.
Letting the blood from the spider’s neck, now flowing like a quiet stream, touch her lips like water from a spring.
She stuck out her tongue, grimacing.
“Ugh.”
Way more metallic than she expected.
The blood from the mountain giants was way more tolerable.
Do monster species have different blood flavors?
She pondered this odd thought as she turned around, and then beamed.
Her whole face lit up in a cheerful, radiant smile.
“I did it!”
The joyful, innocent words of a child.
Impossible to believe it came from someone who had just dismantled a monster, soaked in blood.
“…Well done. That should’ve reopened the gate. Let’s head back.”
By that point, Seo Ye-rin had given up trying to understand.