Chapter 943: Ending (3)
Kang Jin-Ho entered the empty field first and took up his position. Soon, the Master of the Round Table slowly walked up and stood in front of Kang Jin-Ho.
These two men shared something in common. Two things, in fact. One, they didn't seem all that tense right now. And the people watching them were a lot more tenser than they were!
However, despite the "relaxed" demeanor, Kang Jin-Ho and the Master only intensely stared at each other, not even sparing a moment's glance in the other people's way.
"This is a nice place," the Master broke the silence first. "I didn't think such a place existed in Korea, so I..."
"Hold on," Kang Jin-Ho suddenly raised his hand and cut the Master off. Then he turned his head to where his companions were and gestured at Lee Hyeon-Su.
Lee Hyeon-Su sighed under his breath, then rushed toward the side of his Assembly Master.
"Okay, you can continue," said Kang Jin-Ho.
"..." The Master faltered a little before groaning grandly. "How about learning some English...?"
"...I can speak a bit, but it's always better to be sure, right?"
"Well, yes. I agree with you on that."
The Master became a little nostalgic about his past while scanning Kang Jin-Ho standing a little ahead of him.
'How long has it been?'
He couldn't quite remember the last time he got to "compare notes" on his martial prowess with a fellow expert. This strangely feel-good tension began filling his heart up.
'Once upon a time, this used to be my life.'
Back then, he constantly fought, experienced victories and losses, and whipped himself again and again to become better than before. To become stronger. To become a winner!
Once upon a time, the Master was another martial artist striving for those ideals. However, what about now? Could he call himself a martial artist now?
'I... am not sure anymore.'
If the definition of a martial artist was someone who mastered a martial art of some kind to acquire inconceivably greater strength than most normal people could ever dream of acquiring... Then yes, the Master should still qualify as a martial artist.
However, if the yardstick for determining one's status as a martial artist was whether one mastered their martial arts to actively participate in the fierce world of do-or-die, then... The Master had no right to call himself a martial artist.
At best, he was no better than an administrator. Or the chief operating officer of a company.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om
'Hmph. Isn't that a surprisingly elite-sounding title?'
Some people might enjoy having such titles appearing before their names, but not the Master. Or, more correctly, not at this minute.
'Since when did it stop?'
The Master was trying to remember when the people around him stopped emitting the distinct scent of primal savagery.
What an ironic thing that was. The Round Table was definitely an organization of martial artists. But it was incredibly difficult to pick up any scent of martial artists from the members. The new recruits still emitted that whiff, but sooner or later, they'd become "assimilated" with the atmosphere of the Round Table and lose that scent for good.
Only the masks covering the participants' faces and the antiquated but still impressive eponymous table separated the Knights' conference from a meeting of a corporation's high-ranking executives. And no one would've noticed the difference if that did happen.
That was how the Master had been living his life until now. All while forgetting about his roots as a martial artist!
Even though they talked big about being the Round Table and whatnot, at the end of the day? What was so different about what they did compared to things the regular governments or armies did?
The only difference was the type of power being utilized, but the way all these entities sought to use their military might to achieve their goals was pretty much the same.
The Master's duty was deciding where the military might of those affiliated with the Round Table would be used on. And that "might" always excluded his.
'Of course, it's not as if I'm dissatisfied with this arrangement.'
When young, martial artists might want to keep living on the edge. However, once they got older and found themselves in higher rungs in the hierarchy, they might want to settle down to a life not too different from the Master's. At least, that was what he thought.
But now...!
The Master's gaze locked on Kang Jin-Ho. The sight of the latter standing there proudly by himself was enough to force the Master into tightly clenching his fists.
This man, Kang Jin-Ho, was different. The smell of primal savagery, the smell of a beast, still wafted from him.
As a matter of fact, this smell was so strong that maybe the Master should've said it was a heavy stench of raw blood instead.
They were currently in an era where blades went into hiding against firearms.
In this day and age, one had to hide their identity as a martial artist if they wished to assimilate into society. However, Kang Jin-Ho somehow managed to retain his nature of a martial artist. And he stood tall and triumphantly before the Master's eyes.
It was as if a martial artist of the ancient past was dropped in the middle of the modern era! And this sight burrowed so painfully into the Master's heart.
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