The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill-Chapter 67: Wuyuan Jie

The recruits weren't talking anymore.

The air was heavy now, the weight of the final match pressing down on them. Every fight before this had been intense, but something about this one felt different.

Haneul rolled his shoulders, twirling his staff once. The wood spun smoothly in his grip, the weight of it grounding him. It wasn't his—it was Jin's—but he had been using it long enough that it felt like an extension of himself.

Hyunwoo, on the other hand, didn't even bother stretching. He just stood there, shaking out his wrists, a lazy smirk on his face.

"Man, you took your time," he said, cracking his knuckles. "I was starting to think I wouldn't even get a turn."

Haneul adjusted his stance, keeping his grip loose. "We can stop now if you're scared."

Hyunwoo's grin widened. "Cute."

Jin exhaled, raising a hand.

"Start."

The moment Jin's hand dropped, Haneul moved.

His body sank into the ground, his form dissolving into the nearest shadow. The second his foot left solid ground, the entire battlefield seemed to shift.

No one said a word.

Haneul reappeared behind Hyunwoo, his staff already swinging downward in a clean, precise arc.

Fast. Sharp. Perfect.

Hyunwoo vanished.

Haneul's staff slammed into nothing.

His heart skipped.

He caught movement from the corner of his eye—Hyunwoo reappearing five feet away, completely untouched, his hands still casually in his pockets.

Hyunwoo tilted his head.

Then—he disappeared again.

Haneul barely had time to react.

Hyunwoo reappeared right in front of him, mid-motion, his fist already swinging for his ribs.

Haneul twisted his staff, barely blocking in time—but the impact rattled through his arms, his stance breaking slightly.

Before he could stabilize—Hyunwoo disappeared again.

Instinct screamed at Haneul to move.

He barely had time to shift his weight before Hyunwoo reappeared at his blind spot, twisting into a rising knee.

Haneul threw himself forward, rolling away at the last second.

He came up on one knee, gripping his staff tighter, his breathing just a little too fast.

Hyunwoo straightened, casually stretching his wrists.

"Oh yeah," he said, grinning. "I can use this way better than you."

Haneul didn't respond.

He charged.

He swung his staff forward—fast, controlled, aiming for Hyunwoo's midsection.

Hyunwoo didn't dodge.

Not in the way he should have.

Instead of stepping back or blocking—he disappeared mid-motion.

Haneul's staff sliced through empty air.

His eyes flicked to the side a second too late.

Hyunwoo reappeared—already mid-counter, his fist snapping toward Haneul's shoulder.

Haneul barely twisted out of the way, but Hyunwoo was already gone again.

Then—he was behind him.

A sharp jab to the ribs.

Haneul grunted, stumbling a step back—but Hyunwoo had already disappeared again.

Reappeared.

Landed a hit.

Disappeared.

The rhythm was brutal. Relentless.

Strike. Dodge. Counter. Vanish.

Haneul couldn't keep up.

Because Hyunwoo wasn't just dodging—he was attacking while dodging.

He was using Shadow Step inside his movements.

Every time Haneul tried to track him—he was already moving into his next attack.

Hyunwoo disappeared.

Reappeared above him, dropping down with a heel aimed for Haneul's shoulder.

Haneul snapped his staff up in a last-second block—the impact still sent vibrations rattling down his arms.

But before he could recover, Hyunwoo flickered out of sight again.

Haneul cursed, twisting mid-motion—

But Hyunwoo reappeared where Haneul had dodged to.

His fist slammed into Haneul's ribs.

This time, the impact actually sent him staggering back.

Haneul's grip tightened on his staff.

This wasn't a normal fight anymore.

This was a battle of application.

Hyunwoo wasn't just using the skill—he was refining it.

A jab—vanish mid-motion—reappear mid-hook.

A feint—disappear before the counter—reappear at a new angle.

Every attack flowed into the next.

There was no wasted movement.

Haneul wasn't just losing in speed.

He was losing in execution.

His stance shifted, his breathing rougher than before.

Fine.

If he couldn't match Hyunwoo in movement—then he wouldn't.

Haneul reset his stance.

He stopped trying to react.

He started forcing Hyunwoo to react.

Haneul adjusted his grip, switching from offense to control.

Instead of aiming for Hyunwoo—he aimed for where Hyunwoo would have to move.

A thrust forward—not to land, but to force a dodge left.

A spinning sweep—not to trip, but to guide movement.

For the first time—Hyunwoo hesitated.

It was small. A fraction of a second.

But Haneul saw it.

He twisted mid-spin—switching from offensive to counterattack.

His staff shot up—aiming for Hyunwoo's shoulder.

It was fast. Precise. Unavoidable.

And yet—Hyunwoo disappeared.

Haneul's breath caught.

That… wasn't a dodge.

That was a read.

Hyunwoo knew what he was going to do before he did it.

Haneul tried again—another strike, another miss.

Another feint—another miss.

Gunshu had structure. It had discipline.

And that made it predictable.

Haneul barely registered the realization before Hyunwoo's next attack slammed into his shoulder.

Pain shot down his arm.

He stepped into a shadow to escape.

But the second he did—

Hyunwoo followed him in.

Before they reemerged, Hyunwoo landed another blow to his ribs.

The recruits watching were dead silent.

Hyunwoo stepped back, shaking out his wrist.

"You get it yet?" he asked, raising a brow. "Your form's nice, but I already know what you're going to do before you do it."

Haneul gritted his teeth.

Gunshu had limits.

It wasn't enough.

His fingers curled tighter around his staff.

Gunshu had limits.

But what if he stopped treating it like a set of movements—and started using it like a weapon?

Hyunwoo moved first.

A flicker—he vanished into a shadow, reappearing above Haneul with a diving strike.

Haneul didn't react like before.

Instead—he planted his staff into the ground.

And let it sink into a shadow.

Hyunwoo's smirk faltered.

"What are you—"

Haneul vanished.

Hyunwoo's breath hitched.

Then, from directly behind him—

The staff erupted from a shadow, striking toward him from an impossible angle.

Hyunwoo twisted mid-air—but it was too late.

The impact sent him crashing backward, rolling across the dirt.

The recruits watching gasped.

Haneul reappeared, panting slightly.

It worked.

But the fight wasn't over yet.

Hyunwoo coughed, shaking the dirt from his hair as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. His body ached from the impact, but the grin on his face didn't waver. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, rolling his shoulders as he got to his feet.

Haneul stood across from him, breathing hard, but his grip on the staff was firm. His stance had shifted—less rigid, less controlled. He wasn't holding it like a student following a set form anymore. He was holding it like a weapon.

Hyunwoo cracked his knuckles, rolling his neck. "Alright," he muttered, eyes gleaming. "That was new."

Haneul exhaled sharply, flexing his fingers. "You gonna stay down?"

Hyunwoo scoffed. "Like hell."

Then he vanished.

Haneul didn't move. He didn't try to follow. He simply let the shadows shift around him, feeling them, waiting.

Hyunwoo reappeared on his left, mid-strike. A clean, precise blow aimed at his ribs—but Haneul was already turning.

Instead of dodging, he planted his staff into the ground, sinking the tip into the nearest shadow.

Hyunwoo's eyes flicked toward it for a fraction of a second. A mistake.

The moment his focus shifted, Haneul's staff erupted from a shadow behind him.

Hyunwoo twisted mid-motion, barely managing to redirect his body to dodge, but the attack still clipped his shoulder, sending him stumbling.

He didn't fall.

Instead, he grabbed the staff mid-motion, yanking it to pull Haneul forward.

Haneul staggered but didn't release his grip.

The moment Hyunwoo tried to use his own weight to control the fight, Haneul did something unexpected—he let himself be pulled.

Instead of resisting, he stepped into the movement, twisting his staff with it, forcing Hyunwoo to overcompensate.

Before Hyunwoo could recover, Haneul stepped into his shadow again.

The recruits barely had time to track the movement before Haneul reappeared on Hyunwoo's right—his staff already swinging.

The impact landed clean against Hyunwoo's side, sending him sliding back.

He let out a sharp breath, his footing unstable for the first time in the fight. His fingers twitched, his body automatically trying to disappear again, but this time—Haneul was already ahead of him.

A second strike followed the first, forcing Hyunwoo to shift, then a third, forcing him into a tighter space.

It wasn't just about landing a hit anymore.

It was control.

Haneul's movements weren't predictable anymore. He wasn't just following Gunshu's form—he was bending it to his will.

Hyunwoo disappeared, but when he reappeared, the staff was already swinging for him.

A delayed reaction.

No—not delayed. Anticipated.

Haneul exhaled sharply, his trainer's voice ringing in his ears.

"A real fight isn't a drill. It's chaos."

"When you understand that, you'll be ready for Zhangyuan Zhe."

He finally understood.

It was never about the form.

It was never about the movements.

It was about control over the fight itself.

Hyunwoo lunged again, his fists flickering in and out of the darkness—but Haneul didn't react like before.

Instead, he stepped forward, swinging his staff.

Not at Hyunwoo.

At the space around him.

A controlled sweep forced Hyunwoo to dodge right—but before he could vanish again, Haneul's staff sank into a shadow at his feet.

The moment it reemerged—it was already coming for Hyunwoo's ribs.

Hyunwoo barely raised his arms in time to block—but the force of the hit sent him skidding backward again.

His stance was starting to crack.

His rhythm was breaking.

For the first time in the fight, he was reacting to Haneul.

Haneul didn't give him a second to breathe.

He followed through, slamming his staff downward.

Hyunwoo flickered out of sight—but this time, it didn't matter.

Because Haneul was already moving, already adjusting.

Instead of chasing Hyunwoo—he predicted where he would land.

His staff sank into the nearest shadow—and then reappeared directly in Hyunwoo's path.

The recruits watching tensed, realizing what was happening a second before Hyunwoo did.

Before he could even fully reappear, the staff was already there.

It caught him clean in the chest.

Hyunwoo's eyes widened—and then the force of the strike sent him flying.

His body twisted mid-air before he slammed into the dirt, the impact kicking up dust around him.

This time, he didn't get up.

Silence.

The recruits watching stared.

Haneul exhaled, his shoulders rising and falling.

Jin stepped forward, eyes scanning the battlefield. His gaze lingered on Hyunwoo for a moment before shifting to Haneul.

"Winner—Haneul."

The moment the words left his mouth, the tension broke.

The recruits erupted into cheers, some of them clapping, others murmuring in disbelief.

Haneul let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders. He twirled the staff once, planting it against the ground.

Hyunwoo groaned from the dirt, rubbing his face. "Man," he muttered. "That was exhausting."

Haneul scoffed, tapping his staff lightly against the dirt. "You're telling me?"

Hyunwoo let out a breathless laugh, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "Okay," he admitted. "I see why you like that weapon now."

Jin crossed his arms, stepping between them.

"You adapted," he said, nodding toward Haneul. "It took you too long to do it, but in the end, you got there. Next time, don't wait for the solution—create it faster."

Haneul nodded, absorbing the words.

Jin turned to Hyunwoo.

"You learned his ability better than he did," he said. "But you relied on dodging. A fight isn't just about avoiding hits—it's about finishing it."

Hyunwoo sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Yeah, yeah. I'll take that L."

Jin let his gaze sweep over the rest of the recruits, his expression unreadable.

They all looked different now.

A day ago, they were hesitant, uncertain. Now, they looked like fighters.

Jin let the moment settle. Then, finally—

"Training's over."

The duels had ended.

But the real fight was just beginning.