Chapter 110: The Fist King Battles the Black Path
The Fist King Battles the Black Path
Chapter 110: The Fist King Battles the Black Path
With that brief introduction—Fist King—Mukryongdang, Blue Robe Hall, and Jeon Bi-rang finally understood the situation.
The title Fist King was one reserved for only a handful of emperors among the White Path.
The only puzzling thing was how absurdly young he looked for someone bearing the title of King.
Ha Jeong-hak studied Dan Woo-sung intently before turning to his subordinates and issuing a curt command.
"Stand down."
Even Ha Jeong-hak, leader of the Night Assembly Alliance, had only just grasped the sheer absurdity of the situation. The deaths of his men now seemed almost inevitable.
Yet, inwardly, he felt a strange sense of relief.
The Fist King he knew belonged to his own era—not this young man before him. Moreover, that terrifying Fist King had been silent for so long that his name had nearly faded from memory. The last news had been of his disappearance.
So, he assumed this young man was merely the Fist King's successor.
Ha Jeong-hak turned back and drew his sword.
As the pale blade flashed before his eyes, he forgot everything—his position as leader, his ambitions, even the weight of his brutal past. All of it melted away like snow under the sun.
Once he shook off all distractions, Ha Jeong-hak managed a relaxed smile.
"Fist King, let's begin."
Dan Woo-sung unfolded his arms and replied in kind, using informal speech.
"Let's."
As Dan Woo-sung stepped forward, the power of the White Lightning Ten Stages surged through him with each stride. It was a sight even Mukryongdang had never witnessed—a display of martial prowess he hadn't fully unleashed since his encounter with Mad God. Lightning-like energy coiled around his body, crackling ominously.
To Ha Jeong-hak, it looked as though the Immovable Bright King himself was advancing, wreathed in storm clouds.
Even though Ha Jeong-hak hadn't risen to the top of the Southern Black Path through mere schemes and tricks, the sight before him was overwhelming—as if he faced someone he should never dare oppose.
But having already calmed his mind like still water, he shook off even the distraction of fear.
If I die fighting, so be it.
Lost in his resolve, Ha Jeong-hak uttered words he wouldn't have spoken if he'd been fully lucid, pouring energy into his blade.
"It seems I'll be cutting down the Immovable Bright King."
The moment he decided to strike the neck, his sword was already there. When he thought his opponent had dodged, Ha Jeong-hak abandoned thought entirely, chasing Dan Woo-sung's movements and swinging again.
Counterattack.
As if instinct screamed a warning, he retracted his sword and thrust forward with his left palm before he could even think.
His palm collided with the Fist King's fist.
BOOOOOOM!
Ha Jeong-hak's face rippled like disturbed water as his body was hurled outside Mukryongdang's walls. Twisting midair, he landed and immediately slashed his sword downward, pouring energy into the blade.
A Sword Cry resonated along the steel.
Ha Jeong-hak roared toward Mukryongdang's interior.
"FIST KING!"
Dan Woo-sung burst forth from the main gate like a tidal wave. Ha Jeong-hak unleashed the sword energy coiled around his blade in a horizontal slash, matching his opponent's speed as he poured forth a relentless barrage of sword strikes into the air.
Blades clashed from all directions, filling the air with deafening explosions.
Ha Jeong-hak poured everything into his attacks, thinking that fighting half-heartedly would be more shameful than death itself. Efficiency didn't matter—this wasn't a battle where he could exploit weaknesses or drag things out. From the moment the Fist King revealed his strength, Ha Jeong-hak knew this was a fight where the weak challenged the strong.
So, like in the old days, he had no choice but to fight like a madman.
His only goal now was not to disgrace himself before the subordinates who had trusted him.
Only then could he face those he had killed with dignity.
His expression, a mix of boiling rage and unyielding determination, made him seem like a true warrior even in Dan Woo-sung's eyes.
Ha Jeong-hak's swordsmanship.
No master, no formal training.
Every man he had ever killed was his true teacher.
He had honed it through life-and-death struggles, naming it the Soul-Severing Sword of Life and Death.
As the battle raged on—
At twenty, he had mastered the art of piercing—now aiming for Dan Woo-sung's chest.
In his mid-twenties, he had grasped the interplay of feints and true strikes—now targeting Dan Woo-sung's legs and waist.
After seizing a black market's entire stock of elixirs and consuming them all, he had gained the internal energy to unleash torrents of sword energy once more.
Mukryongdang's outer walls were gouged as if struck by a colossal whip.
Spectators scrambled to avoid the chaos or climbed atop the walls just to watch.
Ha Jeong-hak gritted his teeth, condensing sword energy into the tip of his blade before swinging.
The sword of a man who had lived as a villain without regret now gleamed with a murky hue—one that had never been named, like filthy ditchwater left to rot.
It was the color of his life—a man who had lived like sewage just to survive.
He swung that sword to kill Dan Woo-sung.
The filth gathered at the tip burned like black incense, leaving smoky afterimages in its wake.
SHIIIIING—
It was neither elegant nor impressive.
A man who had survived the Black Path fought desperately, slashing and stabbing, unleashing the Soul-Severing Sword just to live another moment.
THUD!
Then, in an instant—Dan Woo-sung caught the blade bare-handed.
Ha Jeong-hak twisted his sword, creating a gap in the grip, then kicked off the ground to pull free, darting nine paces back in a flash.
But Dan Woo-sung closed the distance instantly. Ha Jeong-hak didn't even have time to grit his teeth.
Dropping low, he spun and swung his sword, then drew his scabbard with his left hand, wielding dual blades like paired weapons.
Yet again, Dan Woo-sung caught the scabbard bare-handed.
Ha Jeong-hak abandoned it and unleashed a palm strike toward Dan Woo-sung's face, simultaneously thrusting like a dagger—repeating the motion rapidly, firing piercing sword energy at point-blank range.
SHK! SHK! SHK!
By the fourth strike, Ha Jeong-hak barely managed to retract his blade—only to see Dan Woo-sung's upside-down figure soaring past overhead.
Ha Jeong-hak barely tilted his head back.
His hair, nearly torn from his scalp, fluttered wildly as he was launched upward.
Dan Woo-sung landed, adding rotational force and crushing grip strength before hurling Ha Jeong-hak into Mukryongdang's walls.
Ha Jeong-hak flew like a cannonball, smashing his left palm into the wall mid-flight.
BOOOOOOM!
Crashing onto rubble strewn with jagged stones, he forced himself up, battered and disheveled.
Only then did he have time to grit his teeth.
His hair, nearly ripped out, was now a wild mess. Before he could even steady his breathing, the Fist King stood atop the wall, looking down at him.
Ha Jeong-hak stared back.
Was it because this man was stronger? Or was it absurdly because he stood above him?
To Ha Jeong-hak, he looked like a giant gazing down.
He read the expression on the Fist King's face.
Mockery.
Ha Jeong-hak's voice grated like grinding teeth.
"Fist King, are you not fighting seriously? This can't be your full strength."
Dan Woo-sung laughed silently.
Ha Jeong-hak spoke again.
"Come at me, you White Path bastard."
Baring his teeth in a grin, Ha Jeong-hak swung first.
The First Sword split the wall left and right.
The Second Sword unleashed a horizontal wave of sword energy, forcing nearby onlookers to leap into the air.
Dan Woo-sung soared with them—seemingly leaving himself open—before blasting a palm strike toward Ha Jeong-hak.
A massive hand-shaped force crashed down.
Ha Jeong-hak tilted his sword horizontally, wrapping it in sword energy, then struck the flat of the blade with his left palm—an improvised defense. Only this could possibly block the Fist King's overwhelming force.
BOOOOOOM!
Ha Jeong-hak's body, wreathed in lightning, was sent skidding horizontally across Mukryongdang's courtyard. His face twisted from the impact as he exploded with energy, kicking off the wall and leaping onto the roof.
The Fist King pursued relentlessly—maddeningly so.
Ha Jeong-hak shattered the roof tiles as he launched himself skyward, his figure stretching toward the low-hanging moon like a man trying to grasp it.
For the first time, he felt a flicker of satisfaction.
If my little brother saw this, he'd tell me I fought well.
Midair, Ha Jeong-hak twisted into position, gripping his sword with both hands—preparing the Moon's Descent Slash, the same technique that had once bisected the previous alliance leader.
Moon's Descent Slash—its name meant the merciless moonlight pours down.
A brutally simple technique.
The moment he spotted the Fist King standing on the roof, Ha Jeong-hak swung without hesitation—as if aiming didn't matter.
A colossal crescent of sword energy, as though a soul had been ripped from the blade, cascaded toward the Fist King.
SHKREEEEEEEEEEE—!
As Ha Jeong-hak descended, his black robes fluttering, he watched his own sword energy.
It was the most magnificent he had ever produced.
The Fist King raised a single hand toward the oncoming slash—as if grasping empty air.
That grasping hand suddenly expanded, wreathed in white lightning, before clashing with the colossal sword energy—crushing it like a fist shattering glass.
The massive slash split apart and vanished.
The moment Ha Jeong-hak saw the result, he burst into laughter midair, plummeting toward the ground.
"Hahahahahaha—!"
It was exhilarating.
As he fell, he realized the world of martial arts was far vaster than he had ever known.
The moment his body hit the ground, a stream of dark red blood spilled from his lips.
Ha Jeong-hak lost consciousness—dreaming of running wildly somewhere, as if racing through a memory long forgotten.
In the dream, his younger brother, carried on his back, asked:
"Hyung, where are we going?"
Ha Jeong-hak answered:
"I don't know. Just run. There has to be somewhere we can live properly."
His brother replied:
"Put me down. I'll run too."
Ha Jeong-hak shook his head.
"You're too slow. We have to move fast—or they'll catch us."
Even as his brother grew heavier, Ha Jeong-hak poured strength into his trembling legs and ran like a madman.
He fled only into darkness.
Bright places meant death—there was no choice.
He swore to himself—hide in the blackness for now, then return one day to slaughter every last one of those who had treated them like slaves.
As revenge took root in his heart, the world around him darkened like his thoughts.
Suddenly, his brother fell silent.
Fear gripped him.
"Min-ah?"
The boy on his back answered.
"Yeah?"
"...Nothing."
"Hyung, are you tired?"
Ha Jeong-hak replied calmly, like an older brother should.
"I'm fine. Not yet... It's too soon to be tired."
As the brothers vanished into the dark, the shadows watched—embracing these two who had nowhere else to go.
The brothers melted into the blackness.