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Chapter 42: Dao of the Wild Dog
🕑 Added 2022-11-27 11:18:48 +0000 UTCJack gazed at Gan Salin, who’d just switched to using a different Dao Root than before—and, from the looks of it, this was his best one. But it came with side-effects. His reason was dwindling as madness emanated from the center of his being, filling him up to the brink.
Jack identified the feeling. It wasn’t the first time he saw it. Insanity, he realized, eyes widening. This madman has the Dao Root of Insanity!
“You’re taking too fucking long!” Gan Salin barked. The more Jack looked, the more he resembled a wild dog. “Fine! If you’re not coming, I am.”
Shit.
Gan Salin shot forth at tremendous speed. Jack barely had time to react. Gan was upon him in an instant, clawing and biting at him like an animal. Jack realized he had long nails and sharp teeth. The foam from his mouth was flowing like crazy now, splattering the street below them. His eyes were a deep red, and he released wild screams as he attacked.
He was a terrifying opponent.
Jack fell on the defensive. These attacks were faster and harder than the black wolf’s. He didn’t even have time to think, let alone fight back.
He jumped back, dodging and weaving between the strikes. He took a few scratches as he retreated to the side, dodging a house and breaking through a garden, then into another house. The entire time, he was moving backward, using the momentum of Salin’s attacks to launch himself further back.
He broke through a wall. A woman’s screams reached his ears from the right. Shit! Jack turned to the left, taking a good blow from Salin, who, by now, was fighting like an absolute madman. He wasn’t defending, only attacking over and over, as fast and as hard as he could.
Jack’s durability was great, and Salin’s attacks still weren’t that strong, but they were relentless. He was like a storm. The damage piled up. Jack’s forearms were covered in bloody scratches. At least he’d dodged those humanoid fangs.
They broke through another wall and into a garden. Jack was still retreating at top speed, barely keeping Gan Salin at bay. He needed to do something!
His primal instincts were revving up. His body was filled with strength, his mind sharpened by the fear of death. Unfortunately, these instincts were muted now. Jack was the warrior; he was the one in control of his body. He could no longer rely on the mad fervor of battle unless he created it himself.
And that’s what he did.
“Enough!” Jack roared. He let Gan Salin bite down on his left forearm, teeth tearing through muscle, to smash a fist into his abdomen. Salin went flying over the rooftops, his teeth ripping Jack’s flesh apart as he was torn away.
Jack roared again and pursued. Stomping hard on the ground, he jumped after Salin, planting a punch mid-air and tossing him even higher. A couple teeth went flying, covered in foam. Salin didn’t even register the damage; he just tried, and failed, to bite Jack’s hand.
Jack was in mid-air, waiting to land. He looked around; many people had noticed the fight by now. This area wasn’t empty. Screams were coming from everywhere, fingers were pointed his way, and people hesitated over whether to run or watch. Jack didn’t care what they did.
His feet touched a rooftop and he instantly shot back out. Salin landed a second later, rolling once before regaining his footing, then lashing at Jack again. The two jumped over rooftops like it was nothing and crashed over a tall building, punches interweaving with scratches and bites.
One, three, ten. The strikes were coming and going, both fighters refusing to give ground. Jack was scared, and at the same time, impressed.
Gan Salin could take his punches like a champ. Each attack could bring down a house, but he barely even flinched on impact. With the Dao Root of Insanity fueling him, his ability to take punishment was off the charts, and so were his speed and unpredictability. However, his claws weren’t sharp enough. He lacked Strength, which let Jack take his blows and strike back.
At the same time, he grimaced. As much as Gan Salin was crazy, he knew how to fight—even better than before, in fact. This was Gan Salin at his best. His strikes were tight. His defense—which he seldom used—was solid. He alternated between slow and fast attacks, straight and curved, bites and scratches, keeping Jack on his toes.
This was practiced, expert-level insanity. His body flowed from one frantic movement to the next, leaving only tiny gaps for Jack to take advantage of. It felt like a high-tier skill.
In turn, Jack let Salin’s strikes land, then plugged in the gaps between them with a series of fierce punches. They hit hard and true. Flesh was mangled under them, organs shaken. He was dealing damage; and the fact that Salin ignored it infuriated him.
Jack was a man of the fist. If Gan Salin wanted a battle of attrition, he would get a battle of attrition.
Jack abandoned defense and went all-out in attack. He let most strikes land to attack back, only guarding his vulnerable spots. The System gave them extraordinary durability. Their battle dragged on. Salin was the one pushed back; not because he was losing, but because Jack’s strikes carried more momentum and sent him flying.
The two traveled over rooftops, occasionally landing on walls or on the streets. One time, they found themselves in a screaming crowd, and it was only a miracle that no one got hurt.
They were fighting at speeds that the naked eye couldn’t process. Most people only saw a bloody blur flying past them, and the few that could see what was happening didn’t dare intervene. Jack and Gan Salin were in a league of their own.
Jack was aware of their surroundings, despite his battle fervor. His mind raced. As time went on, his movements got sharper, his strikes deadlier. He wasted less time and energy. He got optimized.
Fistfighting III had given him finer control over his body, but that was a double-edged sword. It wasn’t easy to control. New aspects were added to every simple movement, temporarily working against Jack. When he adapted, it would be a great boon, but that would take time.
This battle greatly reduced said time.
Jack hadn’t been in a real battle since getting the skill. Henry White’s power had been fairly one-dimensional, and the fight had finished very quickly. Gan Salin was a different beast. He fought hard; a real opponent.
This wasn't an easy battle. One misstep, one claw to his eye, could spell disaster. The constant threat of death hung over Jack’s head like a guillotine, but it only served to sharpen his mind. It dragged him further and deeper into battle, forced him to push himself to the very limit.
He forced his body to adapt. When his muscles discoordinated, his iron vise of a will grabbed them and forced them to obey. The right patterns were burned into his brain. Jack’s battle prowess returned and kept rising, surpassing his previous limit. Gan Salin was pushed back harder and harder.
Salin lunged in for a bite, but stumbled just the tiniest bit. Finally!
All color disappeared. All sound was buried. The sky went dark as a single purple meteor hung in mid-air, followed by a majestic tail of stars. Everyone froze. The meteor struck Gan Salin’s face, and everything exploded into existence as one.
The impact was deafening. Gan Salin flew back like a broken kite, sailing over a dozen houses before landing into one and reducing it to rubble. Jack hoped it was empty. He also hoped that Salin was dead, because his hand wasn’t usable anymore.
A Meteor Punch against Henry White’s fragile body was okay. Against Salin’s Constitution, Jack’s bones were broken. He shrugged. Oh, well. At least I’m getting better.
Against the black wolf, his entire hand had almost disappeared. He was making strides.
He leaped from rooftop to rooftop until he reached the site of Salin’s landing. The wild dog was plastered on the wall of the next building after the one he’d demolished. His clothes were ripped in places, letting the contents of his pockets fall to the ground. As he clutched his face, blood dripped between his fingers.
“Had enough?” Jack asked, bloodied himself. “I can do this all day.”
“Fuck you,” Salin responded. He sounded hurt, both physically and mentally. “I will see you at the tournament, bitch. You challenged the scions; we’ll kill you for it.”
“I really don’t think you will. You won’t even reach the tournament if you keep spouting bullshit like that.”
Like lightning, Gan Salin reached for one of the items on the ground, a frail-looking wooden doll that had, however, survived until now. Jack tensed up. Salin crushed the doll. The next moment, a blue flare blinded Jack, and when he could see again, Salin’s body had just disappeared.
What?
He looked around and found nothing. No blood trail, no marks, no suspicious amounts of screaming coming from any direction. He jumped on a rooftop and then as high up as he could to survey the town. From this height, he could see everything to Valville’s edges, and he almost lost himself to the ecstasy of flying before refocusing on Gan Salin, of whom he saw no signs.
Weird… Jack thought, frowning. Was it not a flashbang? Does the System have disappearing acts? Where could he have gone?
He let himself fall back down, where Gan Salin had disappeared. A couple items were still strewn on the ground there; Jack’s Meteor Punch had ruined his pockets, and he hadn’t had time to collect them.
Chief among them was a face-down credit card. Turning it around, Jack saw the number 20,000 written on its surface. He grinned wildly.
Well, well. You’re my lucky star.
Gan Salin had escaped, but at least the battle hadn’t been fruitless; and that’s without even mentioning the invaluable battle experience Jack had gotten.
He then looked over himself, noticing the many scratches. His regeneration could handle those, probably. He hadn’t lost too much blood, but he suddenly recalled the foam on Salin’s lips.
Whoops.
Pocketing the credit card and ignoring the other items—Earth money and a half-eaten Tony’s chocolate bar—Jack quickly made his way to the professor’s house, parkouring over roofs and telephone poles. Fortunately, everything was safe when he got there; Brock was waiting by the door, jumping and hollering at Jack in protest for fighting without him, and the professor was also there, gazing at him with a worried look in her eyes.
“Was that…” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Did you…”
“No. He escaped, I think. There was a blue flash, and then he disappeared.”
“That’s an item.” She nodded. “Escape Talisman. It sends the user to a predetermined location within a hundred miles.”
“Really? That’s awfully useful.”
“And extremely expensive, too. Our blue merchant sells them for a hundred thousand credits each.”
Jack whistled. “Wow. Some people have money. By the way, guess how much was left in his credit card after that? 20k. And guess how I know.”
The professor smiled. “At least we got something out of the whole thing. Selling goblin eyes for a credit apiece would never make us a fortune.”
“Yeah. Speaking of that, I suspect that merchants only buy monster parts to slowly pour credits into our economy; I can’t imagine why someone might want a million goblin eyes.”
“I suspect the same thing.” The professor’s smile widened, then grew sentimental. “You’ve gotten strong, Jack…but my heart aches seeing you like this. Can you tend to your wounds, please?”
“That’s why I’m here. My regeneration can handle it, but I suspect that guy had rabies. Any idea where I can get a shot for that?”
She cocked a brow. “The pharmacy, Jack… They’re still in operation.”
“Right. I knew that.”
***
Jack had defeated one of the five scions. This news did not go unnoticed.
“Ermagerd,” said a suited man in the deep north. “Update, please. Is there any change in faction rankings?”
“No, sir…but the leader of the Bare Fist Brotherhood finally appeared. And he defeated one of the five scions.”
The man’s eyes flashed a cold blue. “Is that so?” he replied. “Get me all missives on this man. Spare no expense. I want to know everything.”
“Yes, sir.”
***
A dark-skinned woman stood in an empty savannah. “Someone beat a scion? Heh. What a guy.”
***
A man lounged on a rock, sleeping. Suddenly, his eyes fluttered open. “Salin?” he spoke out. As he stood, his golden mane of hair fell over his back. He seemed to be speaking to himself. “Interesting. Who? And who is he under?”
His eyes narrowed as he listened to the response. “Interesting…” he repeated. “Well, no sense in moving now. The tournament is approaching. If he doesn't come, he’s as good as dead, anyway.”
He then lay back down to sleep. The Level 49 tiger behind him didn’t dare interrupt.
