Chapter 152: The Funeral
Chapter 152: The Funeral
Fierce and brutal force, heavy as a thousand jun, burst forth from Fang Jing’s punch, landing squarely on Kuki’s face.
Boom!
Kuki was sent flying by this punch. His massive body, helpless against the devastating power carried in the fist, shot out like a cannonball. The impact of his landing tore up large swathes of grass and stones.
“Did I… lose?”
His entire face seemed sunken in, a clear fist imprint visible on half of it.
No. How could he possibly lose?
Kuki roared defiantly. Even though most of the bones in his body had shattered from the previous blow, he summoned all his strength and forced himself to stand.
A huge shadow leaped up and landed right in front of him.
“Game Over!”
The giant sneered, pronouncing doom like the god of death.
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Seeing the corpses of Haijima, Haijima, and the critically injured Shishidōmaru lying nearby, Higashi Yuantai knew Fang Jing probably had the upper hand in this fight. After all, dealing with several masters alone wouldn’t have been easy otherwise. Still, he held immense confidence in the young man.
Kuki Muen was truly powerful, but maybe, just maybe, Nishizuka could really defeat him.
People were dispatched to track the traces of the two fighters as they moved. Yet, even after half an hour, no one could locate them.
Even Higashi Yuantai began to feel slightly nervous. On the surface, he puffed on a cigar, trying hard to maintain his composure amidst the swirling smoke. But the prolonged silence made him uneasy, and cold sweat gathered in his palms.
Just then, a figure burst suddenly out of the dense forest.
It was Fang Jing. His clothes were ragged, reduced to strips of cloth. The pant legs on his lower body were gone, leaving only enough material to barely cover his essential parts. He looked exceptionally battered, yet his spirit seemed full of energy… though his right hand was wrapped in makeshift bandages made from cloth, and his arm bore traces of dried blood.
“Nishizuka, are you alright?!” Higashi breathed a sigh of relief and walked over with small steps. Since Fang Jing was here, surely the matter of Kuki Muen was settled.
“Got a minor injury.”
Fang Jing spoke calmly. He then casually tossed something onto the ground – half of an arm.
“This… could it be Kuki Muen’s arm?”
“Yes.”
“You killed him.”
“He should be dead. I ripped off half his arm, then after a final exchange, he slipped and fell from the cliff. He’s most likely dead, but…”
He leaned close to Higashi Yuantai and murmured a few more words softly.
After listening, Higashi looked genuinely surprised.
“Nishizuka, are you serious?”
“Yes. That’s about it. Also… I remember Kuki had a disciple called Shishidōmaru. How is he doing now?”
“That guy’s life is tough. He was beaten half to death, only holding onto a sliver of breath, stubbornly refusing to die.”
“Take him to a hidden place. Keep him barely alive. Do not let him escape.”
Fang Jing didn’t elaborate further. He frowned, seeming to remember something. “What about Teacher Kume? Could he really….”
“Just now, Old Man Funatsu called for a helicopter. It’s already taken him to the hospital. I’m not sure of his condition yet.”
Higashi could only shake his head at this.
“Anyhow, I must see my teacher. I need to tell him the news about Kuki at least…”
He hoped he would still have that chance.
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When Fang Jing arrived at the temporary intensive care room, he saw Kume Nansho one last time, just as the man was gasping his final breaths.
By now, Kume’s entire face was withered beyond recognition. Opening the “Inner Ghost Gate” fully three times inevitably ended a normal person’s life; there was no avoiding it.
“Hey! Nishizuka kid. Long time no see. I have to say, you look pretty awful.”
He cracked a smile, deep wrinkles forming at the corners of his mouth. His body was skin and bones, yet his spirit seemed strangely alert.
“Teacher Kume is the one who truly looks awful.”
Fang Jing noticed his clear expression and managed a slight smile in return.
The complex feelings within him calmed at that moment, becoming still like pond water.
It was clear Kume Nansho felt no regretful pain. He accepted his fate with quiet detachment.
“I told you before not to call me teacher… Ah, forget it. I’m almost dead anyway. Besides, since Kuki was defeated by your hand… it seems I have no choice but to break tradition and reluctantly hand the title of school master to a brat like you.”
The news of Kuki Muen’s defeat and death had reached him.
Even in his final moments, Kume Nansho’s voice held no trace of defeat. It seemed as if a great weight had lifted from his shoulders, and his old, somewhat flippant personality resurfaced.
“Understood. I suppose I’ll just have to reluctantly accept it then.”
Fang Jing understood. This was the old man’s wish. He would now bear the mantle of the Huanzang Style.
“Don’t sound so put out. It’s a prestigious old brand with a hundred years of history. Try not to screw it up.”
“Understood.”
“By the way, how’s that Sakaki Tetsuhei guy doing?”
“Teacher Ironbeard is also in treatment but has passed the critical stage. The doctors say he’s physically strong; recovery is just a matter of time.”
“That’s good…”
Hearing this, Kume Nansho finally exhaled in relief.
“As for that one, Old Man Wakabayashi… I might have dragged him into this mess.”
“Old Man Wakabayashi wouldn’t think that.”
Fang Jing knew what he meant. Still, he felt matters couldn’t be solely blamed on the past grudges of the Huanzang Style’s previous generations. Ultimately, the Black Devourer Syndicate stood behind Kuki.
“You’re right. I know the old fool wouldn’t blame me. Still… that kind of makes me feel a bit guilty…”
He reached out with wrinkled, vein-streaked fingers and grasped Fang Jing’s hand.
“You have a difficult road ahead as the head of the Huanzang Style now.”
Fang Jing felt slightly startled at Kume’s words. His close ties with the Iwamoto Group and the Sunao-gumi weren’t obvious. Yet the old man seemed to have vaguely guessed it.
Moreover, his tone hinted he had understood some details and was tacitly giving his consent.
“Don’t be surprised! The aura of killing and the scent of blood on you is heavy. I’d be blind to miss it.”
Kume chuckled weakly. “Dying sharpens one’s senses, kid. But don’t worry. The Huanzang Style was originally from ninjutsu lineages. The rules aren’t terribly strict. As long as you keep a clear head yourself…”
“Yes. I will keep a clear head.”
Fang Jing fully understood Kume’s meaning. He had his own boundaries, knew what he needed, and understood his own principles for how he would operate.
“To be honest… I never wanted to teach you our fist techniques at first. Because you and Kuki Muen are so alike. Your personalities, talents, and ambitions overlap in many places. I worried you’d eventually walk the same path he did.”
Kume sighed here. “Later, I reconsidered. Maybe my worry was needless. Besides, you don’t have such constraints anymore. Times have changed. The thinking of us old fogies just can’t keep up.”
He then spent some time chatting with Fang Jing, telling him about precious documents and ancient texts belonging to the Huanzang Style that had been entrusted to three friends. If Fang Jing wanted to delve deeper into the school’s arts or organize its teachings, he could seek their help.
“…One of my lasting regrets, besides the whole Kuki affair, is never having the chance to fully restore the Eight Arts of our school. What you’ve learned is incomplete, with many crucial parts missing. Legend says mastering all Eight Arts requires touching the very ‘roots’ of the Huanzang Style. My teacher, Hachiman, told me this on his deathbed. But what it actually means… I don’t really know.”
The old man rambled on, entrusting him with various matters.
“Funatsu, Shishina, and Kamoda are my old comrades. If you run into trouble, you can turn to them. These old ghosts owe me a few favors. They won’t brush you off.”
Finished, Kume Nansho pushed Fang Jing’s hand away and gave his shoulder one final pat.
“Alright, Nishizuka kid. Get out. I don’t want you watching me die.”
“…”
“You really are strange, still not leaving?” The elderly man made an exasperated expression.
“Don’t mourn for an old man like me. I’ll soon be eighty. I’ve outlived my teacher Hachiman and all my departed senior brothers and sisters. Having lived this long… it’s time to conclude this journey.”
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After Kume Nansho passed away, the funeral arrangements fell mainly to Old Man Funatsu and another old friend, Shishina.
True to Kume’s unsentimental character, the funeral was kept simple. The visitors were an eclectic mix: representatives sent by the Sunao-gumi and the Iwamoto Group; friends from the martial arts world; owners of corner shops and inns; an elderly lady from a local recreational establishment… and even a representative sent by the street folks Kume often gathered with – a Mr. Hosoe attended the funeral.
Among them, Fang Jing also noticed a towering middle-aged man wearing a slightly ill-fitting suit. His hair was graying, but his physique was robust, resembling a bodybuilder or a professional wrestler.
“You, might you be Nishizuka-kun?”
This middle-aged man suddenly addressed him.
Fang Jing was naturally puzzled; he didn’t recognize the man. “Who are you–?”
“Ha ha! I haven’t introduced myself. I am Shokuba Genjiro. A pleasure to finally meet you. My daughter has caused you much trouble.”
“Could it be… is your daughter Shokuba Haruka?”
“Yes,” the man gave a slightly apologetic smile. “I came to pay my respects at Teacher Kume’s funeral. It’s truly heartbreaking. I never expected he’d leave us so soon.”
Shokuba Genjiro was Shokuba Haruka’s father. Haruka had previously mentioned her father had received some instruction from Kume Nansho, making him sort of like a junior disciple. Still, Fang Jing hadn’t expected to meet him here at the funeral.