"Samadhi True Fire at that age."
"Even if he's a legendary assassin's disciple, is Pinnacle mastery at that age even possible?"
The awe and terror swirling through the murmurs around him. Ha Jin, hearing this, couldn't suppress his bewilderment.
'What's with these people?'
What he had used was a basic fire spell—nothing more. Yet judging by their reactions, they had concocted some fantasy involving Samadhi True Fire or whatever else.
'They see one fire spell and jump to that conclusion?'
Ha Jin briefly questioned their ignorance. But that puzzlement soon shifted into a different thought.
'Then again, this might not be a bad thing.'
He glanced down at the charred Baek-il. Ooh, did I overdo it? Tch.
Regardless, this man had picked a fight because he assumed Ha Jin was weak. In short, if he could change that perception, he wouldn't get dragged into these pointless altercations.
'I need to conserve my mana. Getting caught up in needless fights is the last thing I want.'
The Boundless Heart Method had given him a path to mana recovery, but that was practically a future prospect. At his current level, he was far from free of mana limitations.
'Of course, if I could chug spiritual medicines like water, that'd be another story, but fat chance of that......'
Begging the Mad Demon just to squeeze out one extra medicine was the best he could manage. In his current situation, that kind of luxury was a pipe dream.
So this "powerful" misunderstanding didn't seem likely to cause problems.
If anything, it might serve as an effective screen to keep the pesky flies away before they could bother him. There was no need to correct the misunderstanding. Ha Jin resolved to embrace this unexpected misconception as a new weapon.
'So are we done here?'
Before leaving the platform, Ha Jin walked over to the prone Baek-il for one last look. At the very least, he needed to check whether the man was alive or dead.
If dead, things would get quite troublesome. If critically injured, he needed to be rushed to the infirmary.
But just as he leaned down toward Baek-il, horrified cries erupted from below the platform.
"He's not going to finish him off, is he?!"
"Even for a duel, going that far? No mercy at all?"
"Well, he is an assassin's disciple. He might not show any."
The cadets assumed Ha Jin was moving in for the kill, and panicked accordingly. Ha Jin was dumbfounded. What now?
'What kind of nonsense is that? Why would I kill this guy?'
If Baek-il died, the person in the most trouble would be Ha Jin. That level of conspicuousness was the last thing he wanted.
Then someone's shout refocused every eye.
"Wait—he's a disciple of Ghost Hand, the master of the Star-Absorbing Art!"
At this, the surrounding terror peaked.
The Star-Absorbing Art. An energy-draining technique that could siphon and devour every last drop of an opponent's inner arts.
Even within the Heavenly Demon Divine Sect, the potential extinction of the Star-Absorbing Art's lineage was treated with gravity. For martial artists, naturally, it was the stuff of nightmares.
"The Star-Absorbing Art? He's going to drain that man's inner arts completely?"
"He's going to cripple him? What a vicious bastard."
"Stay back! He might drain our energy too."
The cadets recoiled as though backing away from a plague victim. Ha Jin had merely been checking whether his opponent was breathing, yet somehow he had been transformed into a merciless fiend who brutalized his enemies and drained their inner arts.
'This is so unfair.'
Wasn't the guy who picked fights with random strangers closer to a "fiend" than he was?
'Tch. Can I just leave? But won't that make things worse?'
Just as Ha Jin was struggling with how to handle this absurd situation, a familiar voice drifted in from the distance.
"The duel seems to be over. Can't we just move on?"
Do Gyeong appeared from somewhere, his voice perfectly composed, addressing the platform. His eyes carried the look of someone who had already assessed the situation as he continued naturally.
"Ha Jin, we need to go recruit the rest of our team. We don't have time to linger here."
Do Gyeong had provided the perfect pretext for a clean exit. For Ha Jin, it was nothing short of a rescue.
Do Gyeong approached the fallen Baek-il, crouched down, and held his fingers beneath the man's nose. He checked the pulse as well.
A moment later, he stood up casually and addressed the gawking cadets around them.
"He's unconscious, but he's breathing. He'll be fine."
Finally, he pointed at a man who had been hovering near Baek-il since before the duel and issued a command.
"You there—the one who's been watching. Carry this man to the infirmary."
The singled-out cadet flinched, unable to refuse, and shuffled over to Baek-il.
"Let's go."
Do Gyeong flicked his eyes in a silent signal and turned away first. Ha Jin followed gratefully, as though he'd met a guardian angel.
And so, leaving behind the stunned cadets and the lump of charcoal on the sparring platform, the two made their unhurried exit.
***
Meanwhile, hours passed and the sun began to dip. In the infirmary, Baek-il stirred on his cot with a groan and slowly opened his eyes.
An unfamiliar ceiling. He tried to sit up.
"Where am— ARGH!"
His entire body throbbed, and his face and scalp burned with a searing pain that made him wince. The physician, hearing movement, approached.
"Oh! You're awake!"
The physician examined Baek-il's condition with a smile.
"The burns were quite severe, so I was worried. But you're young—that counts for a lot."
"......"
Baek-il clutched his foggy head and tried to think. He'd been brought to the infirmary? He definitely remembered seeing that fireball. Did that mean—
He asked in a hoarse voice.
"......How long was I unconscious?"
"Hmm, let me see."
The physician thought for a moment.
"A good two shichen. You were breathing, but you wouldn't open your eyes—had me quite worried."
Two shichen. The realization that he'd been out for four hours brought a fresh wave of humiliation across Baek-il's face.
"That long......"
But there was no time to dwell on humiliation. His real mission surged back to the forefront of his mind.
'This is no time for self-pity. I need to report to Brother Un-baek immediately......!'
The possibility that Ghost Hand's disciple was hostile to the Fist Demon Sect. And the fact that his cultivation had reached a level that could not be ignored.
This was intelligence that could shake the Fist Demon Sect's future. He tried to leap out of bed.
"Ngh!"
But the moment he raised his torso, the burns across his body screamed in agony. Baek-il collapsed back onto the cot with a groan.
The physician clicked his tongue and walked over.
"Where do you think you're going in that condition?"
He pressed Baek-il's shoulders firmly and spoke with finality.
"Complete rest is required. The burns on your skin will need extensive treatment, so stay put. Count yourself lucky there's no internal injury."
Baek-il sighed at the physician's stern words. His heart was already burning with urgency. He instinctively reached up to clutch his head.
But his hand found nothing where it expected to.
'Huh......?'
He slowly felt around the top of his skull. Instead of the full head of hair his fingers expected, all they met was an eerily smooth, soft surface.
'Where... where did my hair go?'
Hardly daring to believe it, he began frantically patting every inch of his scalp. But everywhere his hands went, he found nothing but bare, slick skin.
'Don't tell me it all burned off......?'
With mounting dread, Baek-il looked at the mirror hanging on the wall. The reflection staring back was alien and grotesque. The hair he'd worn with pride was gone without a trace, replaced by a mottled, burn-scarred scalp gleaming under the light.
His eyes widened in horror. He looked back and forth between the stranger in the mirror and himself. Tragically, they were one and the same.
"No... that can't be......"
His voice quavered as he cradled his head in both hands. His fingertips found nothing but empty, bare skin.
"AAAAAAAAAGH!!!"
A blood-curdling shriek shook the infirmary to its foundations.
"I'm—I'm BALD?! Doctor! What is the meaning of this?!"
A loss more devastating than any failed mission. Baek-il thrashed on his cot for a time, howling in anguish. But the despair didn't last long. He fixed his bloodshot eyes forward, reminding himself of his duty.
'No. I don't have time for this.'
The grief of lost hair paled before the existential threat to his sect. He clenched his teeth.
'I need to get to Brother Un-baek as fast as possible......'
Baek-il staggered off the cot. His burns throbbed with every step, but he forced himself to endure. He approached the physician, who was watching him with pity, and spoke firmly.
"Give me painkillers. I have somewhere I need to be."
"I told you, you need rest—"
"It's urgent......"
The physician was momentarily taken aback by his fierce determination, but eventually nodded and handed over a few small medicine vials. Baek-il stuffed them into his robes and left the infirmary without so much as a word of thanks.
***
He wrapped a cloth around his ghastly scalp and limped toward the Transcendence Hall, where Un-baek's quarters were located.
After a long walk, Baek-il finally reached Un-baek's quarters deep inside the Transcendence Hall. Forgoing any pretense of courtesy, he hammered on the closed door and shouted.
"Brother! It's Baek-il! I have urgent news!"
As he grabbed the handle and pushed his way in, the door opened from within. A large, broad-shouldered man stepped out. Un-baek. He appeared to have just finished training, his upper body bare as he toweled off sweat.
Un-baek took one look at Baek-il's sorry state and furrowed his brow.
"What happened to you?"
His gaze lingered on Baek-il's limp and the cloth awkwardly wound around his head.
"And what's with the headwrap? Did you get beaten up somewhere?"
Despite Un-baek's puzzled questioning, Baek-il had no time to explain his appearance. He gasped for breath and blurted out.
"Ghost Hand's disciple—Ha Jin—that bastard, Brother! He might be targeting the Fist Demon Sect......!"
Baek-il was too agitated to finish coherently, choking on his words. Un-baek seized his shoulders firmly.
"Calm down."
Un-baek met the frantic eyes squarely and repeated himself.
"Catch your breath and tell me from the beginning. What exactly happened?"
Baek-il managed to steady his breathing and delivered a concise summary of the sparring platform incident. Ha Jin's abilities, and the exchange regarding the Fist Demon Sect.
"Hmm......"
Un-baek let out a low hum after hearing everything. A troubled expression crossed his face.
Just then, a languid voice drifted from deeper inside the quarters.
"Bottom line: rival teams are already making moves against us. That's what this means, isn't it?"
A man emerged from the shadows. Snake-like eyes set in a sinister face. He leaned against the doorframe, the corner of his mouth tilting upward as though he found the whole thing amusing.
"Starting things off like this, are they? In that case, I should step in and handle it properly. A Thousand Days Hall cadet getting uppity—the nerve."
"Don't go overboard, Ja-myeong."
"I'll manage that myself."
The voice of the man called Ja-myeong brimmed with delight.