Chapter 13
"Boss. Did you know?"
"The Muay Thai you learned isn't actually Thailand's traditional martial art."
When was that?
Probably during the golden period of my life after my divorce.
I had been spending one of my month-long vacations in a Thai resort.
We received one of those vacations every six months.
The voice beside me spoke English with a strong Southeast Asian accent.
The man's appearance matched his accent.
Dark skin.
Heavy double eyelids.
And, strangely enough, a very large and tall body.
His name was Chaiwat.
We had spent years together in the same team at Black Wolves.
He had previously served in a counterterrorism unit responsible for protecting the Thai royal family.
Among everyone I knew...
He was one of the strongest in close combat.
When it came to fighting barehanded...
Almost no one could match him.
Naturally...
His main martial art was Muay Thai.
The famous traditional martial art of Thailand.
At least...
That was what I thought.
"Muay Thai is a sport."
Chaiwat grinned.
"The real martial art is Muay Boran."
That statement shocked me.
I'd visited Thailand many times even before becoming close friends with him.
I had also trained Muay Thai since my military days.
So one thing had always been common knowledge to me.
Muay Thai was Thailand's traditional martial art.
I immediately asked him what Muay Boran was.
Seeing was better than hearing.
Chaiwat stood up...
And demonstrated it himself.
The movements were clearly different from the Muay Thai I knew.
Ong-Bak...?
Watching him...
The only thing that came to mind was the Thai action movie Ong-Bak.
Now it made sense.
Whenever I watched those movies...
The Muay Thai shown on screen had always looked different from what I'd learned.
The advertising had practically been a lie.
The protagonist wasn't really using modern Muay Thai.
He was using Muay Boran.
Muay Thai mainly used punches and kicks...
With knees and elbows mixed in.
Muay Boran felt completely different.
It was built to break things.
Destroy things.
Kill people.
A pure combat system.
The claim that it had been born on the battlefield fit Muay Boran far better than modern Muay Thai.
There were even grappling techniques mixed in.
It kicked opponents after they fell.
It used headbutts without hesitation.
Some techniques attacked the eyes.
Others struck the crotch.
There were movements designed with armored opponents in mind.
In a way...
Some of the things I'd already done during these Dark Demon Well matches could be said to resemble Muay Boran.
I watched Chaiwat demonstrate several techniques.
Then one obvious question appeared.
How had such a practical combat art transformed into modern Muay Thai?
I asked him.
His answer was simple.
And cheerful.
"Oh. Someone died during a royal tournament."
"So they banned it and changed it."
"Into Muay Thai."
"Much safer."
"Hehe."
"Even now, actual Muay Boran matches are illegal."
A martial art created during war for the purpose of killing had been so effective at its job that it eventually became restricted.
As a soldier and mercenary...
I understood the logic perfectly.
Techniques specialized for chaos needed to disappear during peaceful times.
That was one of the most reasonable ways to prevent peace from becoming chaos.
Afterward...
I became fascinated by Muay Boran.
It took some convincing...
But Chaiwat eventually taught it to me.
A martial art that even modern Thai people rarely bothered learning because there was no money in it...
I learned personally.
That was why I recognized it immediately.
The martial art used by the man on the platform...
Was Muay Boran.
I even remembered the name of the technique he'd just used.
Elephant Hunting... was it?
Watching him suddenly reminded me of an old comrade.
While I was briefly lost in those memories...
"Th-the Nine Divine Hands!"
"That's the Nine Divine Hands!"
A sudden shout inside the Dark Demon Well dragged me back to reality.
Someone was pointing at the Southeast Asian man on the platform.
"Ah! Of course. So that's what it was!"
"What is?"
"That martial art is the Nine Divine Hands! I thought he looked like someone from Siam. Is he a descendant of the Fist King of Siam?"
"Brother Ma. What are you talking about?"
The words sounded like newly invented slang to me.
Ma Hapji had been staring in amazement.
Now he immediately began explaining.
"About one hundred years ago, there was a great rebellion in the royal family of Siam in the Southern Barbarian lands."
"The captain of the royal guard was driven out."
"According to the stories, he survived and eventually settled in the Central Plains."
"Many proud martial artists heard about him and went to challenge him."
"And..."
"They all lost?"
"Exactly."
Ma Hapji nodded.
"At that time, the men known as the Ten Great Fist Masters of the Central Plains challenged him."
"Every one of them was defeated."
"In other words, a foreigner rose to the position of Greatest Fist of the Central Plains."
"That was why he became known as the Fist King."
"So the martial art he used was called the Nine Divine Hands?"
"Correct. I have only heard stories about it myself."
What I was hearing was basically a legend.
A heroic story.
Siam was an old name used for Thailand.
And the Nine Divine Hands...
That was probably what people here called Muay Boran.
Actually...
It was a very fitting name.
Two fists.
Two feet.
Two elbows.
Two knees.
And the head.
Nine parts of the body...
All used freely like hands.
That was the essence of Muay Boran.
People of the Central Plains really were talented at one thing.
Naming techniques.
"I heard that his descendants later joined the Divine Cult. But apparently none of them became particularly famous martial artists."
Ma Hapji stroked his beard.
"It seems one has finally appeared."
"But Brother Ma... how do you know so much about this?"
"My family were merchants who traveled through Xinjiang."
He coughed awkwardly.
"A little embarrassing, perhaps."
As expected of someone from an Arab merchant family...
Ma Hapji knew many rumors and stories.
A foreigner earning the title of greatest fist fighter in the Central Plains was no small achievement.
