At the end of Ha Jin's line of sight, a man approached with a leisurely swagger. Narrow, slit-like eyes, protruding lips, and a sneer that radiated contempt. A thoroughly unpleasant first impression.
'Tch, guys with faces like that always start trouble.'
Wasn't there a saying that physiognomy was a science? In his experience, people who looked like that invariably caused problems. Then again, hadn't what just happened already qualify as picking a fight?
True to form, the man with the vile expression stopped right in front of Ha Jin. He looked Ha Jin up and down, then asked with a dismissive jerk of his chin. He didn't seem to recognize Ha Jin's face.
"Hey, what are you staring at? You think you can just eyeball me and walk on by?"
The voice dripped with naked provocation. He had apparently taken Ha Jin's glance the wrong way entirely.
'Are his eyes just for show? How do you even misread that?'
A completely groundless, utterly arbitrary provocation. Ha Jin couldn't help but furrow his brow at this tiresome situation.
The man puffed himself up and poked Ha Jin's chest with his finger.
"The name's Baek-il. Fist Demon Sect."
"The Fist Demon Sect?"
He didn't stop there, craning his neck to flaunt his connections.
"I'm practically sworn brothers with Un-baek, the direct disciple of Lord Fist Demon himself."
He didn't say it outright, but the message was clear from his smug expression: know who you're dealing with and act accordingly. Ha Jin looked at this display and let out a laugh of sheer disbelief.
'Ah, this is that whole routine. "I know the chief of police—we go way back, we eat together, we hit the sauna together, the whole deal!" That kind of thing.'
He'd thought the Demonic Sect might be different, but apparently people were the same everywhere.
'So even the Demonic Sect can't escape the holy trinity of connections: school ties, regional ties, and blood ties!'
What a tragedy! Witnessing this hotbed of corruption firsthand, Ha Jin could only feel a deep ache in his heart.
Baek-il, apparently displeased that Ha Jin was simply staring at him without reacting, began poking his shoulder.
"Hey. Are you listening? Now that you know who I am, you should get out of my way."
Ha Jin's brow creased slightly as he watched.
'Tch. If I just let this slide, I'll look like a pushover.'
Types like this only got more annoying once they sensed weakness. But he'd already caused one scene before, so Ha Jin paused to think it through.
'Then again, he started it. And technically, disputes between cadets are fair game. I'm pretty sure they said normal conflicts are permitted.'
Then, suddenly, an excellent idea struck him.
'What if I turn this into a legitimate duel? I haven't had a chance to properly practice my magic anyway—this could be perfect.'
Ha Jin's eyes lit up, and a faint smile crept onto his face unbidden.
'Use this guy as target practice? He picked the fight first, so it's basically self-defense. And if I formally request a duel, there's nothing anyone can complain about.'
A sharp, thin smile settled on Ha Jin's lips. He lightly brushed away Baek-il's prodding hand. All he had to do now was provoke.
"You throw around that pathetic bit of borrowed clout and think you can pull this? Is that all you've got?"
At this, Baek-il's face turned beet red.
"Wh-what did you say? You dare disrespect the Fist Demon Sect?!"
Baek-il erupted, but Ha Jin didn't bat an eye. If anything, he was busy calculating.
'Hmm. Did I go too far? But I've got the Mad Demon behind me, so this much should be fine. I'm not fighting the Fist Demon himself—it's just putting one of his lackeys in his place.'
He hadn't yet felt the weight of the Fist Demon Sect's name in any meaningful way.
Above all, having a powerful backer eased his mind considerably. Ha Jin decided to push the provocation even further. The man's skill looked mediocre anyway.
"Disrespect? No, I'm simply stating facts. Aside from riding your so-called sworn brother's coattails, is there actually anything you can do on your own?"
Ha Jin's words trampled Baek-il's pride with surgical precision. Baek-il's fists began to shake with rage. Ha Jin delivered the finishing blow.
"Look at you. Even now, the first thing you think of isn't your own strength—it's whose name you can drop. Pathetic. Tsk."
And that was more than enough to sever the last thread of Baek-il's restraint.
"You—you arrogant little—!!!"
Baek-il finally snapped, ripping the sword from his waist with a sharp CLANG. Face crimson, he screamed at Ha Jin.
"Fine! I am Cadet Two Hundred and One, Baek-il! I formally challenge you to a duel! I'll teach you some manners right here and now!"
The instant Baek-il issued his challenge, Ha Jin's smile deepened. He silently cheered.
'Everything according to plan.'
The one who started the trouble—Baek-il. The one who requested the duel—Baek-il.
From this point on, whatever Ha Jin did would constitute perfect self-defense within a sanctioned duel.
"A bout, you say? Good. That's exactly what I wanted."
Ha Jin grinned as he answered.
***
Ha Jin and Baek-il climbed onto a nearby small sparring platform. A handful of cadets who had heard the commotion gathered around with curious eyes.
Baek-il took his position first, readjusting his grip on his sword and radiating killing intent. Ha Jin studied him carefully. Then he noticed the sword hanging at Baek-il's waist and couldn't suppress an inward smirk.
'A man who claims to be sworn brothers with a Fist Demon Sect warrior... uses a sword?'
The Fist Demon Sect. As the name declared, a faction built on fists. Their pride undoubtedly flowed from their two fists alone. Yet the supposed sworn brother of a Fist Demon warrior had openly drawn a sword.
'I doubt he's actually that close to the direct disciple, let alone the Fist Demon himself.'
If he were truly connected to the Fist Demon Sect, he would have learned at least a few fist techniques. There'd be no reason to carry a sword.
'His skill must be garbage.'
If he were skilled enough with the blade to make a name for himself, he wouldn't be flaunting his Fist Demon Sect connections everywhere. Ha Jin's analysis was complete.
Just then, Baek-il leveled the tip of his sword at Ha Jin from the opposite end of the platform.
"Listen well. I am Baek-il of the White Night Sect. Remember this name—it's the one that'll fix your attitude!"
The White Night Sect! Not one of the upper sub-sects, but still a reasonably formidable faction. Baek-il was certain that announcing his affiliation and name alone would intimidate his opponent.
But Ha Jin's reaction defied every expectation. White Night Sect, Whatever Sect—Ha Jin didn't know any of them, so of course he wasn't going to flinch.
"No particular affiliation on my end. The name's Ha Jin."
A thoroughly simple introduction, given that Ha Jin had no official banner to display. But the instant his words rang out, murmuring erupted among the spectating cadets.
"Wait—'Ha Jin'?"
"Could that be the Cadet Four Hundred? Ghost Hand's disciple?"
What began as one or two whispers spread into uncontrollable ripples. Then someone cried out in shocked recognition.
"That's him! He's Ghost Hand's disciple!"
That single shout was the detonator. The murmuring could no longer be contained. Baek-il's face went rigid at the commotion around him.
He tried to maintain composure, but couldn't quite conceal the tremor in his eyes.
"......You were hiding your identity."
"Hm?"
His voice was steady, but inside, Baek-il's mind was a storm of questions.
'Ghost Hand's disciple just happened to be walking past me? By coincidence?'
It seemed too convenient to be chance. But he assessed the situation rapidly. He had always been the type to act first and clean up later. Thinking before leaping wasn't in his nature.
Baek-il scrambled to gauge Ha Jin's level. He chalked it up to rotten luck. His instincts worked like an animal's—and his best option was to silence the man in front of him.
The logic of brute force.
'Damn it, nothing like this has ever happened before. This might be the biggest crisis of my life.'
Cold sweat trickled down his spine. As Ghost Hand's disciple, the man must have inherited formidable techniques.
"One question. Should I take your actions as a provocation against the Fist Demon Sect?"
"What are you on about? Why would I care about that?"
Ha Jin's indifference to the Fist Demon Sect. He had meant: "Why would your picking a fight have anything to do with the Fist Demon Sect?" But inside Baek-il's head, the interpretation ran differently.
'Is he saying the Fist Demon Sect doesn't even register as a concern? As expected of Ghost Hand's disciple—this man is far more dangerous than I thought!'
The odds of defeating someone who could dismiss the Fist Demon Sect so casually were low. For a fleeting moment, Baek-il regretted his rash challenge. But having invoked both the White Night Sect and the Fist Demon Sect, he couldn't flee now.
Baek-il's mind raced. This was no longer a simple pride match. This was something far bigger.
'I need to end this duel fast.'
Winning or losing wasn't the point.
'Ghost Hand might be moving against the Fist Demon Sect. I need to report to Brother Un-baek immediately.'
What few knew was that the White Night Sect was not an independent faction. In reality, it was one of several satellite sects that propped up the Fist Demon Sect's influence.
Baek-il, too, was no mere Thousand Days Hall cadet. He existed to sniff out threats to the Fist Demon Sect and report on their movements.
From his perspective, this was a matter of critical importance.
Baek-il steeled himself. Legendary assassin's disciple or not, he hadn't spent his years idly.
'If I use the White Night Sect's sword techniques, I won't go down easily.'
Resolving to gauge Ha Jin's skill and include it in his report, he readjusted his grip. Just as he raised his energy and prepared to launch the White Night Sect's swordwork in a single decisive burst—
Ha Jin moved first.
Or rather, he simply extended his hand forward with a casual push. No martial technique, no surge of energy—an utterly plain, seemingly meaningless gesture. Baek-il stared blankly at it for an instant.
'What?'
But somewhere in that simple motion, he felt a chill of inexplicable dread. And then Ha Jin spoke.
"Fireball."
I'm sorry, what?
Before Baek-il could even process the word—
WHOOOOSH—!
A small flame blossomed at Ha Jin's fingertips, then swelled in the blink of an eye to the size of a human head. The writhing fireball shot toward Baek-il like a living creature.
"What the hell is this?!"
There was no time to dodge. The fireball struck Baek-il squarely in the chest, and the flames spread to his clothes in an instant. He swatted at the fire with his hands, but the blaze only grew fiercer, racing across his body.
"AAARGH! Hot! It's burning!"
Baek-il screamed and rolled on the ground, but the flames showed no sign of dying. They devoured even his hair, growing ever larger as the crackling of burning and the acrid smell of smoke filled the air.
THUD—!
Baek-il collapsed. Now only two figures remained on the sparring platform: the screaming Baek-il, and Ha Jin watching him with perfect calm.
The cadets who had been spectating were struck mute by the bizarre and horrifying spectacle, jaws hanging open.
Silence.
Every cadet surrounding the sparring platform held their breath, staring numbly at the surreal scene.
And then, after what felt like an eternity, someone broke the heavy silence with a trembling whisper.
"That...... doesn't look like Fire Arts, does it......?"
Others nodded at his words. Conventional Fire Arts didn't burn that persistently, nor did they fly in such a bizarre form.
"Could that be...... Samadhi True Fire......?"
The air froze once more.
Samadhi True Fire. A feat that required immense inner arts to produce.
"Samadhi True Fire can be used offensively like that? That freely?"
"What level of mastery is he at......?"
"If he can conjure Samadhi True Fire, does that make him a Pinnacle master?"
In that instant, every gaze locked onto Ha Jin.
Pinnacle-level mastery when he'd barely entered the Demon Path Hall. Shock and terror, pure and simple.