The Art of the Invisible
Lee Jinwoo felt the cold, hard reality of his new position. He was the King of the North Crew, but he was a puppet on a string held by Ryu Jae-wook and the invisible pressure of the Ghost. His victory over Han Tae-seong had only escalated the stakes. His next opponent, the King of the West Crew, specialized in Pressure Points—a lethal art of precise, minimal touch.
Jinwoo sat in the abandoned warehouse that now served as his base, his body coiled with dread. His current Echoes were useless against this threat. His Explosive Recruitment was too crude; his Footwork was designed for evasion, not the microscopic movements required to dodge a fingertip. He needed a blueprint of delicacy and anatomical knowledge.
"You need to change your focus, King," Jae-wook said, adjusting his glasses. The Strategist had moved into the warehouse, his notebook always open. "The West King, Go Seungho, doesn't rely on brute force. He defeats you by knowing exactly where your strength lies and then turning it off."
"I need to copy the defense before I see the attack," Jinwoo murmured, his eyes distant. "I need the knowledge of the human body, not just the motion."
The New Source: The Healer
Jinwoo found his new source material in an unexpected place: a small, almost forgotten traditional medicine clinic run by an elderly, gentle doctor known only as Master Kim.
Master Kim's specialization was Acupuncture and Therapeutic Massage—the precise manipulation of invisible energy points to heal and restore.
For four agonizing days, Jinwoo visited the clinic. He observed Master Kim not during healing, but during his silent, morning meditation and hand-strengthening exercises. The movements were slow, focused, and infinitesimally small. Jinwoo didn't see the power of a punch; he saw the power of perfect micro-control.
Jinwoo focused his Reflective Mimicry on the way Master Kim's thumb and index finger moved—the absolute precision, the ability to apply varied pressure on a pinpoint area, and the deep, silent anatomical knowledge that guided the healer's touch.
The Echo was different this time. It wasn't physical strain; it was pure mental fatigue. It was like downloading an entire medical textbook on the nervous system and musculature. He felt the location of every nerve cluster, every tendon, and every pressure point on his own body.
When the dizzying clarity settled, Jinwoo had the blueprint: Master Kim's Pinpoint Precision and Anatomical Map.
The Test of Precision
Jinwoo immediately returned to his training, testing the new Echo in secret. He found that he could now apply the barest fraction of force with his fingertips and still deliver a shocking amount of localized pain, exactly like Go Seungho. More importantly, he knew where Seungho would strike.
He could now anticipate the attack because he had copied the knowledge of the target.
He now had five blueprints:
1. Striking Mechanics (Minjun)
2. Footwork Rhythm (Minjun)
3. Core Stability (Joo Hyuk)
4. Explosive Recruitment (Rage)
5. Pinpoint Precision & Anatomical Map (Master Kim)
He was no longer just a fighter; he was a machine of Integrated Skill.
The Strategist's Demand
The next day, Jae-wook presented Jinwoo with a strategy map. "The West Crew is mobilizing tonight. Seungho expects you to use raw force, a clumsy version of Tae-seong's style. He'll nullify you with two fingers. We must use his arrogance against him."
"Where's the fight?" Jinwoo asked, his voice steady.
"The old docks, the neutral zone. But before that, we have to deal with a loose end." Jae-wook pointed to a location on the map: Minjun's local gym. "Minjun is a liability. He's your crutch, and he's talking too much. He's attracting the South Crew's attention—a group of traditional martial artists. They think you're a pretender."
Jinwoo felt a cold wave of betrayal. "Minjun is my ally. We don't touch him."
Jae-wook sighed, pushing his glasses up. "You're a King now, Jinwoo. Loyalty is a weakness. I need you to prove you can make the hard choice. Go to the gym. Deal with the South Crew scouts. And show Minjun that his allegiance to you has consequences."
The Interruption of Trust
Jinwoo arrived at Minjun's gym late that afternoon. He didn't have to look for trouble; trouble found him.
Three imposing figures—clearly not local students, but professional-looking fighters—stood waiting. They were clad in simple, clean martial arts gear, their stance formal and disciplined. They were the South Crew's advance team.
"The North Crew King," the leader stated, his tone dripping with contempt. "We hear you're a street brawler who got lucky. We've come to test your 'technique' before the West King wastes his time."
Minjun stepped forward, his fists taped. "He's busy. You'll have to go through me."
"Sit down, Boxer," the leader sneered. "We didn't come for you. We came for the cheat."
Jinwoo stepped past Minjun. The anger was real, but his mind was cold. Jae-wook's demand—to show Minjun the consequences of their alliance—was tactical, not emotional.
"I accept," Jinwoo said simply. "But only one of you. The rest wait."
The leader stepped forward, his stance a perfect, balanced foundation. This was a clean fight, unlike Tae-seong's messy brawling. It was a test of technique versus copied technique.
The South Crew leader lunged, not with a strike, but with a complex defensive block followed by a clean, textbook counter. It was a skill Jinwoo had seen countless times in boxing matches, but this version was refined, pure martial art.
Jinwoo didn't need the old Echoes. He used Master Kim's Precision. He didn't dodge the block; he moved his entire body just centimeters away from the leader's line of attack. As the leader committed, Jinwoo's hand darted out. Not a punch, but a precise, feather-light tap on a single, invisible nerve cluster on the leader's wrist.
The leader's arm instantly seized up in a painful spasm. He stumbled back, staring at Jinwoo in horror and confusion, clutching his useless wrist.
Jinwoo hadn't been faster or stronger. He had been smarter.
"The technique is real," Jinwoo stated, his voice devoid of emotion. "Tell the South Crew King I'm not a pretender. I'm the next step."
The remaining fighters quickly retreated, dragging their injured leader. Jinwoo turned to Minjun, who was staring at his friend's handiwork—the perfect, paralyzing touch—with a mixture of pride and dread.
"That was terrifying, Jinwoo," Minjun whispered. "You could have broken his wrist, but you chose to paralyze it. You've changed."
"The game changed, Minjun," Jinwoo replied, the Pinpoint Precision Echo already cooling in his fingertips. "If you stay close to me, the targets get bigger, and the attacks get cleaner. I need you to understand that."
Jinwoo had cemented his power to the South Crew and, more importantly, confirmed to Jae-wook that he was willing to play the King. Now, the main event awaited: Go Seungho and the West Crew.