Chapter 195: The Satsui no Hado
As the "God of War," Gaolang Wongsawat understood that their "Paths" were
different, which was why he had declined to give Ren Shiroki a formal
demonstration of Muay Thai.
However, as a friend—even a new one—Gaolang didn't mind introducing Ren to the
basic common sense of the art. He shared details on heavy bag specifications,
specialized equipment, and the proper way to wrap hands and shins for Thai-style
training.
Consequently, by the following day, new equipment had been installed within the
Soul Combat Hub. There were vertical, sand-filled heavy bags and fixed pillar
targets designed for continuous striking drills to improve frequency and
endurance.
Early morning.
Ren Shiroki returned to the Hub after his morning run and sat down for
breakfast, noting that the food was excellent.
Today's meal had been prepared by Marco. Having mostly recovered from the
injuries Speck had dealt him, Marco had already begun increasing his own
training load.
"Marco has to get stronger! Strong enough so that no one Marco likes is ever in
danger again!"
With that resolution, he was currently performing weighted dumbbell squats,
drenched in sweat and breathing hard.
"..."
After digesting his meal, Ren checked on Marco before beginning his own training
session for the day.
The focus: Muay Thai.
Two days ago at the Shinshinkai Dojo, Ren had thrown a roundhouse kick that
Gaolang described as "possessing a genuine Thai flavor." After forty-eight hours
of deep contemplation, Ren had finally grasped a few insights.
It truly was one of the world's most famous combat arts, rightfully nicknamed
the "Strongest Striking Style." Studying it was incredibly engaging.
However, accompanying this "enjoyment" was an undeniable, heavy sense of
pressure. As time passed, this pressure grew more intense, eventually making it
hard for Ren to breathe. He was forced to lean against the heavy bag with one
hand, gasping for air.
"What is... this...?"
Ren's vision suddenly darkened as a massive shadow loomed over him.
He turned his head. Swirling ink-wash lines coalesced into a towering, hulking
giant. The man stood with his arms crossed, looking down at Ren.
Height: 226 cm. Weight: 139 kg.
His skin was a deep tan, his musculature defined by sharp, jagged lines. His
core was a fortress, and his deltoids, lats, and leg muscles were massive. His
body was a map of countless callouses and scars, the most prominent being a
jagged, diagonal scar that ripped across his entire chest.
He was bald, wearing an eye patch over his right eye. His left eye was a
piercing, white-hot glare that seemed devoid of a pupil, radiating a savage,
murderous aura. A tiger pelt was draped over his shoulders, and his forearms and
ankles were wrapped in thick, coarse cloth.
His name—Sagat.
The "Emperor" of the Muay Thai world. Once a high-ranking enforcer for a global
criminal syndicate, he had since cut ties to walk a solitary path of
self-cultivation. His style embodied the "Long Reach, Strong Core" philosophy of
the Thai masters. His destructive power was unparalleled—he stood like an
unshakeable, indestructible fortress.
"Hm..."
Ren leaned against the bag, one hand on his knee, looking up at Sagat. He
managed a strained smile despite the suffocating pressure. "Haha!"
[...]
Sagat said nothing. He stepped back several paces. In front of him, the ink
lines swirled to create a massive, felled tree trunk, at least two meters in
diameter. Sagat reached down, gripped the heavy trunk, and slammed it vertically
into the ground.
[Hmph...]
A low snort.
Sagat rolled his shoulders, pulling his arms back to their limit before snapping
them forward into his guard. His massive fists were clenched, his elbows bent at
sharp angles. His left forearm was nearly vertical to the floor while his right
was slightly extended.
He leaned forward slightly, chin tucked, adopting the "Three-Palace Step"
foundation. His center of gravity was over his back leg, his lead foot tapping
the floor with a terrifying level of aggression.
This was the iconic, lethal posture of Muay Thai!
[...]
Sagat stood perfectly still before the massive trunk. For a moment, the air
seemed to freeze, and even the swirling ink-wash of the Hub fell into a dead
silence.
BOOM!
Sagat's right foot drove into the floor. He unleashed a low-level scan-kick that
slammed into the tree trunk, launching the massive weight upward with a spinning
trajectory.
The moment the trunk began to fall, Sagat exploded. His right fist pulled back
and fired upward with a thunderous roar, striking the center of the wood.
[TIGER GENOCIDE]!
In an instant, the hardened tree trunk shattered into a thousand splinters. A
shockwave like a localized tornado swept through the room, sending wooden shards
raining down in every direction.
Clatter...
The debris fell like a hailstorm around Ren Shiroki.
This move was the result of Sagat's obsessive training under a crashing
waterfall after his defeat by Ryu's Shoryuken. In his struggle against the
crushing force of the water, this "Explosive" fist was born.
[...]
Having finished the strike, Sagat glanced at Ren but remained silent. He simply
returned to his training, unleashing a relentless cycle of punches, elbows, knee
strikes, and scan-kicks.
Every move splashed the room with thick, dark ink, the pressure making it almost
impossible for Ren to draw a full breath!
"...Nice!"
Ren gritted his teeth and stood tall. He mirrored the Muay Thai stance, throwing
his own fists and kicks at the bag, piece by piece trying to understand Sagat's
rhythm.
Four hours passed.
Ren's striking didn't stop. He was drenched in sweat, his pupils were bloodshot,
and the brand-new heavy bag was already covered in scuff marks and dents.
[...]
Seeing this, Sagat—who had been training alongside him—finally halted. He spoke
in a deep, rumbling whisper.
[Hmph. You can still keep up with my rhythm? Good.]
[I have witnessed your will.]
[But do not mistake me for a Sensei.]
[I am merely a fighter—an Emperor—responding to your desire for strength.]
[CONTINUE!]
The roar snapped Ren out of his daze, forcing his exhausted body to move again.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Fists, feet, knees, elbows—the rhythm was non-stop. Sweat sprayed across the
floor, and dark stains began to appear on the worn leather of the bag.
"Hah... Phew..."
Heavy, ragged breathing echoed in the training room.
But even then, Ren had only managed to grasp the roughest outline of the Muay
Thai style. The "deeper" feeling remained elusive. Sagat continued to move with
him, his whispers echoing in the air.
[There are tens of thousands of men in this world stronger than you...]
[Do you have the spirit to treat them all as your rivals?]
[The stronger the opponent, the better.]
[Combat is the constant challenge of those who surpass you! Without that spirit,
a battle has no meaning!]
[...]
BOOM!
The more Ren fought, the hotter his blood became. The more he fought, the more
he loved it.
His movements grew more savage. Under the sheer force of his strikes, the skin
on his knuckles and shins split, leaving bright red smears of blood on the heavy
bag. This aggressive, frantic state actually scared off Marco, who had come by
to call Ren for lunch.
[Hmph. That brat is quite sensitive!]
Sagat finally stopped. After Ren delivered one last, heavy kick, Sagat's massive
hand came down on Ren's shoulder. The giant looked down at the young man,
studying Ren's exhausted, bloodshot eyes.
[Do you feel it now?]
[Perhaps it is the nature of Muay Thai itself, combined with your own frantic
refinement. In any case...]
[That uncontrollable impulse you feel right now... that is "Killing Intent."]
[It is not some mystical superpower. It is a state of mind—a horizon that
manifests during a master's self-cultivation.]
Sagat tightened his grip on Ren's shoulder, supporting his weight.
[All combat, all strength...]
[Ultimately, it all points to one result: ending the life of the opponent before
you.]
[He who truly seeks the peak must eventually face this resolve.]
[This resolve... is known as the Satsui no Hado!]
[Making you realize this was the first step of my 'Response' to you.]
Sagat walked slowly, brushing aside the swirling ink-wash lines, then turned
back to Ren.
[How do you intend to face it?]
[I know a martial artist who understands the essence of this matter better than
anyone else.]
[...Hmph!]
Sagat snorted and gestured toward the French windows leading to the yard.
Out in the courtyard, drenched in the afternoon sun, a powerfully built man in a
simple karate gi sat cross-legged under the shade of a tree, resting his eyes in
meditation.
[He is already waiting for you. You should go ask him.]
Ryu had been waiting for quite some time.
(End of Chapter)
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