CHAPTER 373: BAEK HA-JUN, SKY SHATTERING ISLAND (1)

Swish—swish—

His body swayed.

His head felt like it was splitting apart.

He couldn’t see ahead.

Ha-jun was sinking into darkness.

Just moments ago, he had clearly been fighting in Kunlun.

He was a swordfighter.

Ha-jun preferred the term swordfighter(劍手) over swordsman(劍士).

It meant “the hand that holds the sword,” after all.

That described him perfectly.

Unlike his older brother or the other prodigies, Ha-jun was fundamentally different.

His handsome looks and his status as the young clan head of a noble family made him seem like a hero.

He was called a young hero now, but it wouldn’t be long before people called him a great hero.

Great hero, what a ridiculous word.

There was nothing that suited Ha-jun less than that word.

When he swung his sword, people around him would sometimes look on in horror.

“Too cruel.”

He often heard such evaluations.

If Ha-jun had been born somewhere other than the Baek Clan.

What if he had been born into a sword clan of the unorthodox sects?

He had imagined it before.

Perhaps he would have become a sword ghost.

At some point, he began to feel as if he had been born lacking something.

The only reason he was managing to live like a human being was because of the good people around him.

A strict but warm-hearted father.

A brother he could always rely on, Yi-gang.

And, for some reason, comrades who gave him their affection.

Peng Mu-ah, Moyong Jin, Noh Shik, So Woon.

But aside from them…

Many people had died in Kunlun. Both Demon Cult members and Kunlun disciples, and the martial artists of the Orthodox-Unorthodox Alliance.

Even those who had fought side by side with him, shoulder to shoulder, had died so easily.

When stabbed in the belly, they stiffened like wood and toppled over with a thud.

He had never told anyone…

But Ha-jun felt no emotion even as he witnessed it.

He simply thought, ‘So that’s how it is’, and lopped off the neck of the cultist in front of him.

Perhaps he was the strange one.

But Noh Shik seemed to be different.

He had swung his staff while crying.

Ha-jun had seen him wail “Uwaaah!” several times.

He had envied that deeply.

The reason he hadn’t retreated until the end was because wielding his sword was Ha-jun’s duty.

Eventually, he tried to retreat alongside Go Yo-ja.

But when Go Yo-ja suddenly shouted in alarm and he turned back, Noh Shik was trying to save the young disciples of Kunlun.

That was when Ha-jun’s heart moved, too.

“I’ll rescue Noh Shik and stop them here. Please go ahead!”

Saying so, he charged toward where Noh Shik was.

It felt a bit arrogant to admit, but Hajun had talent with the sword.

The essence of the Baek Clan’s swordsmanship resided within him.

The true form of the Heaven’s Shadow Sword Technique that his brother had taught him unfurled grandly through his blade work.

There were few who could stand in Ha-jun’s way.

To Ha-jun, the Demon Cultists of the Demon Surge Thousand Resolves Division were nothing to be impressed by.

Carving a path through blood, he finally rescued both Noh Shik and the Kunlun disciple.

And until then, he hadn’t even received a serious wound.

The problem was, when he turned around, a giant man was standing right in front of him.

A tall figure draped in a pitch-black long robe.

This man was the absolute master who had been hidden among the Demon Cultists.

He’d heard that the man’s name was Heuk-ahm.

“What an amusing brat.”

Heuk-ahm looked down at Ha-jun with sunken eyes.

Ha-jun wasn’t exactly short himself, but he still had to crane his neck to look up at him.

No, for some reason, the man seemed even taller than he actually was.

It felt like standing before a towering cliff…

Even though Heuk-ahm wasn’t emitting any killing intent or hostility.

It was Ha-jun who was shrinking back. His instincts sensing the opponent’s overwhelming strength.

In that case, there was only one thing Ha-jun could do.

He had to strike with his sword to break the opponent’s momentum.

His decision came fast, and his action came just as quickly.

Ha-jun’s sword, imbued with radiant sword aura, unleashed the pinnacle of the Heaven’s Shadow Sword Technique.

But with a single strike from the man in black, the sword aura shattered into pieces.

Fragments of Qi force scattered in all directions. It was strangely beautiful like a sea of stars across the sky.

In Ha-jun’s wide-expanded eyes, he saw Heuk-ahm’s smile.

Heart-Sword Unity . It’s a shame to hand someone like you over to the Demon Cult.“

Ha-jun immediately thrust his sword.

Heuk-ahm twisted his head to dodge the blade.

Even without using Qi force, a sword was still more than enough to cut through human flesh.

A few strands of Heuk-ahm’s hair were sliced off.

But that was Ha-jun’s limit.

Thud!

A heavy strike landed on his abdomen.

A sharp pain surged through him, as if his organs had burst.

However, if Heuk-ahm had used the Heaven-Crowning Black Cloud Palm at full power, his belly would’ve been pierced clean through.

“But that’s not so bad either. Survive.”

Recognizing Ha-jun’s talent, Heuk-ahm had held back his strength.

Darkness swept over his consciousness.

Ha-jun regained his senses several days later.

A blackened field of vision. A crumpled body.

A jostling, swaying view.

He realized he was lying inside a wagon, his body bound and his eyes covered.

Ha-jun heard someone groaning near his ear.

“Mm-mm.”

Ha-jun tried to respond as well, but his mouth was gagged.

“Mm!”

He hadn’t been struck on any pressure points.

So he immediately tried to snap the rope binding his body.

His body, being that of a transcendent master, was a weapon in itself.

Something like rope should have snapped with just a bit of strength…

But it didn’t.

His body wouldn’t respond with strength. Though his muscles remained trained, it felt as if someone had taken great care in tying him up.

Ha-jun slowly turned his awareness inward and examined himself.

He tried to draw up his internal energy from the lower dantian and circulated his Qi.

It didn’t work.

The internal energy he had stored in the lower dantian wasn’t moving for some reason.

He tried to draw in external Qi through his breathing.

Some Qi did enter, but again, it got stuck near the Qi Sea Point.

In the midst of this, Ha-jun frowned.

This foul stench…

When he took a deep breath, a musty odor entered his nose.

It was a familiar smell. It’s the same stench he had grown tired of at Taepyeong Market.

‘It’s Noh Shik.’

The muffled groaning nearby was definitely Noh Shik.

His heart felt a little more at ease.

‘This must be… a restriction.’

He had thought he hadn’t been struck on any pressure points, but it seemed he was wrong.

A restriction that suppressed his internal energy had been applied to his body.

It was undoubtedly the work of those who had abducted Ha-jun and Noh Shik.

Recalling that moment, a chill ran down Ha-jun’s spine.

The man in black. Heuk-ahm was the strongest person Ha-jun had ever encountered.

He might even be stronger than the Divine Monk, known as the World’s Greatest Fist.

Neither his father nor his brother would likely be able to defeat Heuk-ahm.

Ha-jun took a deep breath.

There was no use worrying about it now.

What he needed to do first was understand the situation he was currently in.

And then figure out how to remove the restriction placed on his body.

He tried circulating his Qi multiple times, but he couldn’t undo the seal.

There were many types of internal energy restrictions, but this was a method he had never seen before.

It was probably something originating from the Demon Cult.

Tap, tap.

Fingers touched his back.

It was Noh Shik.

He was back-to-back with Ha-jun.

Thankfully, it seemed his paralysis point hadn’t been struck.

Noh Shik began writing letters on Ha-jun’s back.

Since his hands were bound behind him, the letters came out reversed, but Ha-jun focused all his senses on the tactile motion and deciphered the message.

“Wagon. Switched once.”

His stomach started to growl. It felt like quite some time had passed.

There were no windows in the wagon, but sunlight peeked through the gaps in the wooden panels.

If it was midday, perhaps a full day had passed.

“Demon Cultists. Heading toward Xinjiang.”

It seemed Noh Shik had regained consciousness earlier than Ha-jun.

“Just the two of us. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Ha-jun also wrote letters on Noh Shik’s back.

“Khuhuhuup.”

But Noh Shik suddenly squirmed and twitched, as if it tickled him too much.

Bang!

Then someone banged on the roof of the wagon.

It seemed to be the coachman.

‘How do we undo the restriction?’

‘I don’t know either.’

“Kehehehe.”

When Noh Shik giggled again, the coachman banged on the roof once more.

Apparently, the wagon didn’t lack windows entirely.

A side window suddenly flew open, and an ugly face appeared upside-down.

“Shut up, you bastards!”

Then the window slammed shut again.

Ha-jun quietly recalled the face he had just seen.

He was wearing a headband symbolizing the Demon Surge Thousand Resolves Division.

It seemed they were in a region where Demon Cultists could roam openly with their identities exposed.

That guess soon turned into certainty.

Along the way, the Demon Cultists said they needed to switch wagons and dismounted.

The Kunlun disciples were nowhere to be seen—only Ha-jun and Noh Shik remained.

The ones escorting them were elite warriors of the Demon Surge Thousand Resolves Division.

They must have seen Ha-jun going on a rampage firsthand.

Their eyes gleamed with killing intent, but none dared to lay a hand on him.

‘The air’s gotten dry.’

The trees had become sparse.

Beneath them, yellow, brittle sand piled up.

Looking in the direction the wagon was heading, they saw sandy hills.

It was the Taklamakan Desert.

They really were headed toward the Xinjiang region.

The Demon Cultists gave Noh Shik and Ha-jun some time to relieve themselves.

Since they needed to drink water, they untied their gags and handed them leather canteens.

“Drink.”

“Where are you taking us?!”

That was the moment Noh Shik asked.

A Demon Cultist slapped Noh Shik across the face.

“Shut up and drink. If you won’t, I’ll gag you again.”

Noh Shik let out a laugh in disbelief.

But there was nothing he could do.

Ha-jun and Noh Shik accepted the water and drank.

The Demon Cultist gritted his teeth and said,

“I’d love to kill you right now, but we have no choice but to keep you alive.”

They loaded Ha-jun and Noh Shik into a different wagon.

Noh Shik wore a face full of frustration.

In contrast, Ha-jun’s face showed no emotion at all.

The journey continued from there.

They passed through the desert.

Traversing the desert while bound, and unable to perform ungijo-sik, was extremely exhausting.

Even a master’s body would begin to break down.

But Ha-jun didn’t stay idle inside the wagon.

He twisted his body, shifted his posture, and took care of his physical condition.

Constantly moving his internal Qi, he kept searching for a way to undo the restriction.

Noh Shik, after quietly watching, began to imitate Ha-jun.

Perhaps it was thanks to that.

By the time they arrived in Xinjiang, though utterly exhausted, neither Ha-jun nor Noh Shik’s body had broken down.

It was when they got off the fourth wagon.

They were no longer in the desert.

A city where people lived.

It was the Hundred Thousand Mountains, a place most people of the Central Plains would never see in their lifetime.

“Oho.”

Someone was eyeing Noh Shik and Ha-jun up and down.

He wore white clothes and held a wooden writing board, looking like a scholar.

He must have held some position of authority, as the ones who had escorted Ha-jun and Noh Shik suddenly became respectful.

“These two are in pretty good shape.”

“Hehe, we took extra care with them.”

“Not that it matters. The restriction might’ve already been undone.”

Then he approached and started poking Noh Shik’s body.

Noh Shik’s body trembled all over.

It was clear he was using his internal energy to assess their physical condition.

“…The restriction is intact. Good work.”

The escorts quickly bowed their heads and left.

The man in white looked Ha-jun up and down.

“His eyes are still fierce. This one must be the Iron-Blooded Sword Dragon, and that beggar must be the Heaven-Knowing Beggar.”

He already knew Ha-jun and Noh Shik’s identities.

Pointing at them in turn with his judge pen1, he continued.

“The beggar’s first-grade. The swordsman’s special-grade.”

He spoke as if grading meat cuts.

“Follow me.”

Then he motioned with his hand.

There was nowhere to run.

“You might come across someone you know. Say hello if you do.”

The man in white added with a cruel smile,

“If they’re still alive, that is.”

1. TL/N: A large writing brush held by judges when sentencing a verdict. There are weapons that are made to look like a judge pen, and is called the same name. Not sure if this is referring to a literal pen, or the weapon ️