Yun Jin smiled calmly, turning to face the tense crowd. "Yes," he said, his voice steady and unwavering. "I know exactly what I'm doing."
A hush fell as another figure stepped forward from the crowd. Cloaked in heavy, pitch-black robes, the stranger’s presence didn’t just announce itself—it invaded the space. The air thickened with tension, a primal instinct telling everyone: danger.
“If you fail, I get it next,” the figure said, voice distorted like a broken instrument—neither male nor female, only raw, warped intent.
Even the manager, composed through most of the evening, faltered. She tugged lightly at her collar, eyes narrowing. “For safety reasons, this is no longer permissible,” she said, though the strain in her voice betrayed the tremble beneath.
Then the figure turned.
Not with haste. Not with anger. Just a glance. But it was enough.
A wave of spiritual force exploded outward—silent but absolute. It slammed through the room like an invisible avalanche. Guests gasped, many collapsing into their seats. Mages staggered. Faces paled. Sweat ran down brows like melting wax.
Only Yun Jin remained standing.
But to say he was untouched would be a lie.
Fear clawed up his spine and coiled in his gut
He swallowed hard. Whoever this figure was, they were on a level far beyond him.
The manager’s knuckles whitened around her clipboard. “Proceed, then.”
The cloaked stranger gave a slight nod to Yun Jin, a gesture that somehow held both patience and power. Yun Jin responded with one of his own, more cautious than confident.
He inhaled deeply, steadying his nerves. Gathering his Qi, he summoned [Aura Blade]. Light poured into form at his palm, dancing in golden arcs, shimmering like liquid starlight. A few in the crowd let out soft gasps.
Then, he reached out.
The moment his fingers touched the hilt of the sword, energy surged into him.
This energy... so pure.
It flowed into his body like divine water—cleaner than any spring, clearer than ice-cold air atop sacred peaks.
But beauty never came without danger.
Something else stirred.
An oily presence slithered up from the blade. It wormed its way through his arm and into his chest.
Then the sickness hit.
Yun Jin’s gut twisted. His breath caught. A wave of nausea washed over him—not of the body, but the soul. Whispers slithered at the edge of his hearing. The room spun. Madness clawed at his mind with poisoned talons.
Rage flared. Hunger. Bloodlust.
He tried to resist, but it was like drowning in dark water. His awareness remained intact—he knew what was happening—but he couldn't stop it. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.
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So this is corruption... he realized.
The sword’s presence was no longer dormant. It was alive. And it wanted a host.
Just as he felt himself slipping into that abyss—
A hand pressed gently to his back.
"Focus on your soul. Not your mind."
The voice was clear. Pure. No longer masked by distortion. It rang in his head like a bell forged from starlight.
Clarity.
Without hesitation, Yun Jin activated [Soul Link].
The world vanished.
And he was in the soul realm.
The sky stretched overhead, dark and brooding. Before him, a dawning light struggled to shine, streaming toward him like a promise half-broken. But massive clouds loomed above, suffocating that light.
The shadows noticed him.
They struck.
Yun Jin didn’t flinch.
With practiced intent, he summoned the Heaven-Ruling Blade.
In a single stroke, he slashed through the sky itself.
The clouds parted like torn paper.
Light flooded the realm.
And the corruption fled.
His eyes opened. The energy was gone. The sword lay silent. The cloaked figure—gone.
The auction hall was dead silent. Dozens of spells and weapons pointed at him.
Yun Jin blinked.
Then, with a grin, he moved.
In a flash, he raised the sword and slashed the air.
“NOW!!” someone yelled.
A storm of magic and steel hurtled toward him.
Light erupted.
Light Blade Sovereign Style: Fourth Form – Gale Rend.
A spinning arc of blinding energy tore through the oncoming attacks. Magic was devoured, arrows shredded mid-flight. A burst of golden wind blew through the fog, parting it like a curtain.
And then he stood alone. Sword drawn. Not a scratch on him.
“Wait! WAIT! It’s okay now!” Yun Jin shouted, waving one hand.
The crowd froze.
He lowered the sword carefully. Then, with both hands, bowed deeply. “Apologies. I needed to be certain.”
The tension didn’t vanish, but it eased—just a bit.
Slowly, Yun Jin raised the sword to display it.
[The Legendary Sword (10% Replica) (Rank A+): A blade forged to emulate the weapon of the Hero of Ages. Contains innate resistance to magic.]
--
Elsewhere, far from the chaos of the auction house—
Within the Ardent’s mansion, in the deepest level of the estate’s medical wing, Merlin lay silent upon a crystal bed. Soft lights pulsed around him, suspended in stasis.
And then, a figure emerged from the shadows, darker than night. A silhouette wrapped in a cloak that drank in all light, leaving no edge, no detail—only absence.
The wind did not move. The light did not shine.
The being extended a pale, porcelain-like hand toward Merlin, brushing his cheek—not with care, but confirmation.
Nothing sensed them. Not the security wards. Not the servants. Not even the shadows kept by Ardent himself.
"Hero candidate... and a perfect me," the figure whispered, envy and malice coating each syllable.
In the next breath, they vanished—blinked from the room like a passing thought.
A heartbeat later, they stood atop the city wall.
One glance.
That was all they needed.
Eyes like pits of infinity swept across the capital, peeling back illusions and secrets. They saw the cult’s twisted rituals brewing in hidden chambers. The shadow demons slithering through alleyways. The masked hands of nobles playing dark games of power.
Strong individuals roamed the city. Warriors. Mages. Assassins.
But none interested the figure.
None, except one.
Their gaze paused in the direction of the auction house.
On Yun Jin.
They lingered only a moment.
Then they were gone.
