Chapter 147
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 146
Chapter Title: Chasing Light, Capturing Shadow
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Jin strode forward purposefully.
As he approached, Katrina and the man turned their heads to look at him side by side.
Jin's hand blurred for an instant.
Crackle!
A brief spark of lightning leaped up.
Crossing shadows.
The next moment.
In Jin's grip was the man's wrist—he had forcibly pried loose the hand clutching Katrina's wrist.
Chasing Light and Capturing Shadow.
Chasing the light, seizing its shadow.
The desire to eternalize a fleeting moment.
It was a gesture imbued with Zahard's imagery.
Of course, to Jin, in whom such imagery was fully fused into body and mind, it was nothing more or less than "swiftly snatching the opponent's hand."
Deeper learning, after all, simplifies at its core.
Anyway, the man's expression hardened.
His eyes trembled faintly—it seemed he hadn't even properly seen Jin's movement.
The level gap was already proven, so any sensible guy would know staying put here was the smart play.
But the man didn't.
Typical of his kind.
The type that won't buy it until their nose is busted.
I'm the shit. Who the hell are you to—
Whoosh!
Cold seeped from the hand gripped in Jin's fist.
At the same time, Jin quirked an eyebrow.
Feeling the piercing yin mana creeping through his skin.
But he didn't let go.
He merely glanced at the opponent's wrist, snugly wrapped in his grasp, then shifted his impassive gaze to the man.
By now, the guy was grinding his teeth, spitting out the words.
"A bottom-feeder like you... dares to lay hands on me..."
"Should I know who you are?"
Jin cut off the predictable line, shrugging casually.
"Do I need to know who you are?"
"Ha! As expected, you can't hide that lowly stink... Gaaah! Aaargh! Urk!"
The man screamed.
Under the merciless grip strength, both the ulna and radius propping his forearm snapped clean.
Flesh crumpling inward.
Ghastly pale skin and a forearm dangling unstably.
And the screams.
Watching the man thrash in agony, Jin suddenly relaxed his grip.
Then, checking his numb palm once, he subtly ignited holy flame. Intense heat instantly melted the frost crystals on the verge of blooming.
Sizzle...
Neutralized dark ice rose as dark blue steam from his skin.
Jin gauged the opponent's level.
Early second rank, maybe.
Yeah, just the right melt-in-your-mouth ice flavor.
Not diamond-hard.
Jin thought that and looked straight ahead.
The man, clutching his mangled arm and stumbling back, froze.
Rooted to the spot like his feet had sprouted.
Toward him, Jin jerked his head sideways—scram.
His back immediately bolted away.
No "You'll regret this!" yelled, disappointingly.
Just furtive glances back at Katrina mid-flight.
"Who was that?"
"Akus Margie."
Katrina, sidling up to Jin unnoticed, gazed the same way as she spoke.
"The guy from those marriage talks. Just... throwing a fit, I guess."
"Figured as much."
Jin muttered, then abruptly eyed Katrina beside him.
Her profile, watching the (ex-)fiancé vanish from sight, was blank.
Political marriage.
On a small scale, harmony between factions.
On a large, securing the family's stability.
Belgant planned to wed the family head's daughter, passing her talents to their line.
Solvein aimed to fill the void left by the head's death via an ally like Belgant.
Jin, indifferent to their tangled affairs, could only marvel that even in this advanced age, families still peddled their own.
"So, what's with the workshop drop?"
"Ah."
Katrina snapped to at Jin's question, thrusting out the bag in her hand.
"Here."
"Hm?"
The bag Jin took on reflex brimmed with frozen goods.
"Stock the workshop."
With that curt line, Katrina turned.
After a few steps, she slowly looked back.
"Keep putting up with this crap for me. And... thanks."
Jin nodded.
A faint smile as he waved the bagged hand.
Boom! Kwang! Kwang!
Fierce whooshes ripped the air.
Shockwaves burst through empty space each time.
The drumbeat rhythm peaked—
Bam! Someone rocketed off like a human cannonball.
Thus tumbling limply across the ground, finally splaying starfish toward the sky, face ashen with death.
"Huff... huff..."
Sweat-glossed chest heaved and fell like a balloon, outlines razor-sharp.
"Hm. Call it here?"
The voice in his ear jolted Jin's half-lidded eyes wide.
Springing up with waist power, elastic, he raked back tousled hair with both hands.
"Here I come."
Bingbaek beamed his usual affable smile, crooking a finger.
Next instant.
Boom! Ground-kick echoed, whoosh trailing.
A spell later, Jin smacked the dirt again.
"Hmm? Down so soon?"
This time, Bingbaek's teasing fell on deaf ears—no rising.
Every ounce of milk-suck strength wrung dry.
Fingertip-twitch impossible.
"Truly tapped out."
Only then Bingbaek dusted his hands lightly.
Muttering low.
"...Really odd."
Wrinkleless face cocked.
Age-defying profound eyes narrowed.
Ten days.
Bingbaek's relentless push on Jin.
He held enlightenment strikes when body and mind max out, sparked by tiny doubt.
Those ten days hammered that creed into Heavenly Thunder.
Finding answers? Jin's job.
But he'd guide to the doubt.
That was the plan...
Bingbaek crossed arms naturally.
Gaze fixed on sprawled Jin.
Already complete.
Yes, complete.
Jin was perfectly forged in second rank.
Late second? Natural, right?
Wrong.
Learning chains onward.
No precedence.
Some spot imagery gaps only post-third rank.
Some dawdle decades, then ascend.
Some reach next realm, then grok.
Others grok, then reach.
Common thread: true realm conquest shatters the sky-ceiling you thought capped it.
Sky-groping late-stage can't claim perfection.
But Heavenly Thunder differed.
He was already complete.
Flawlessly blanketing his world.
Yet next realm? Blank slate cluelessness.
Suddenly Bingbaek's eyes iced over.
Possible? Only with pinpoint teaching dosage.
Complete, yet incomplete.
Paradox of extremes colliding.
Heart-demon bait...
But Bingbaek shrugged it off.
Like all heads, heaven-gifted intellect and prowess.
Instinct screamed: what he needs now, I lack.
Already complete?
Then answer's inside him.
Unrecognized, sure. Unearthing? All his.
Bingbaek calmly sank to the ground.
Swallowing hot blood surge.
Reflex-covering hand dropped slow, baring bitter smile.
Not long now.
Days past to break family curse.
While others nobly arm-crossed against fall, he full-throttled deathward.
All sparked 24 years back.
Tiny fist round pinky—greed born.
One vow unbreakable.
Thus.
As Bingbaek's smile thickened complex.
Hiss— deflating groan, Jin stirred, crawled to head before him.
"Huk... ugh... kuh... euk."
Muscle agony patient, barely propping up, eye-level with Bingbaek, mouth cracked painfully.
"I... thought it over..."
Third rank now? Impossible.
Not hardship.
Real talk: no path.
Panting tail-end.
Breath steadied, mouth reopened.
"So... handle it yourself?"
"If I could, ages ago..."
"Holy Flame burns sin without good-evil split, engulfs all leaving no ash. Heaven-descended, earth-ignited—skips purgatory, pure land. Embraces birth-death in embers, all revert to essence in its halo."
"...?"
Bingbaek unwittingly scowled, then gaped.
Catching the weight of Jin's slurred verse.
"That's Holy Flame now—the blaze I forged... its skeleton? You get it? That, incantation, core one."
Jin scratched nape.
Spilling mind-naturals as words felt off.
"No divinity on you, dark ice mastered—so flame-sparking's tough. But wield it smart somehow... Hm? Why? Took work sorting this. Not to your taste?"
Bingbaek silent.
Vacant face, hahaha.
Hearty guffaw trailed, then slow words.
"Who'd guess my son-in-law's a grandmaster."
Nibraks.
Radical faction, no dirty deed spared against short-life curse.
Unlike others, scant zeal for headship succession.
Futile, right?
Borrowed-time lives chasing purist peak? Pipe dream.
Thus, Eternal East alone answers.
True one, vanished 700 years past.
No outsider-forged fake!
Ancestors wrecked blueprints fearing copies.
Reproduction impossible.
Ever was, ever will.
One path: reclaim lost Eternal East.
700 years for it.
Klairen branch-mad recruiting.
Belgant pureblood-preening as true Margies.
Solvein glossy centrism.
Nibraks chased Eternal East solo.
Chased, chased.
Sole uniter of fractured kin.
Thus now.
City bounds beyond, Outlands.
Ancient dead dry wastes somewhere.
Shattered glass shards, trajectories wild, afloat midair.
Cracked void. Mismatching dimensional facets scaled, gleaming.
Gaps oozed sinister rainbow haze.
Time drifted how long?
Suddenly, hand punched from rift.
Desperate air-claw flail—fragments grazed, flashing sparks.
Upper body breached next.
"Kuhuk!"
Ragged gasps, sprawled crash.
Boiling oil escapee—body afire wounds.
Still, elbows dragged crawl; rift sealed slow behind.
Dry land left: dying man, warped breaths.
Next breath.
Swollen lips' final whisper dispersed airward.
"F-found... it..."