Hadjar responded to its whispers with a new stream of his will. It continued to grind down and torment the haze, and Hadjar felt a muffled pain. In this struggle, only one person was suffering — Hadjar himself. Some would’ve said that this was a stupid way to go about things. However, such a person would forever remain at a practitioner’s level, and new horizons would forever be unattainable for them. Losing such a battle meant eternal stagnation and being stuck in place.
The path of cultivation didn’t tolerate people who stumbled about aimlessly, only those who could walk resolutely forward, step by step, in spite of any dangers and threats in their way.
The haze increased its resistance. The harnesses that had entangled Hadjar began to assume the form of elastic swords. They cut into his flesh, causing red blood to spill out into the vast darkness, looking like falling stars.
Back in the real world, vortices of energy circled Hadjar as he sat in the lotus position. This caused a commotion in the camp.
“Karissa, hide this idiot,” Ramukhan ordered. “Because of him, other hunters will come here. Tilis, put a spell up.”
Tilis, nodding to her boss, began to whisper a spell. Her staff shone softly, and a wall of flickering air rose up around the camp. Her spell was much stronger than what Shakh’s squad had put up. From the outside, the clearing now looked like a swamp teeming with snakes and vile toads.
Karissa walked up to Hadjar, but stumbled at Einen’s warning glare.
“The amulet,” she reminded him, “doesn’t just protect us from strangers, but also vice versa.”
The islander glanced at the blue amulet on his hand and stepped aside.
“If something happens to him, I’ll know who to blame,” Einen said, slightly pushing the tip of his spear out from his staff.
Karissa just rolled her eyes.
“I have no reason to harm him, nor do I want to.”
She took out a long, red amulet from her book and, holding it between her index and ring finger, whispered something. A whirlwind of her own energy made her clothes flutter. Dozens of smaller amulets began to fly out of the red amulet. They whirled in a scarlet dance around Hadjar, gradually turning into a red dome that kept his energy contained inside of it.
“I trust you more than them,” Karissa added, after she was convinced that the barrier was reliable. It covered Hadjar with a dome of energy, and hid his attempts to advance to the next stage from the outside world.
“Why?”
“Because you have the amulets, but they don’t.”
With these parting words, the witch returned to the fire. Einen noticed how closely Salif’s boy was watching what was happening. Once, in his childhood, the islander had fallen into the lair of poisonous snakes. He’d felt safer there than during these recent months. Looking at the scarlet dome, he whispered:
“Good luck.”
At that moment, Hadjar, who was still meditating deeply, couldn’t hear his friend’s well-wishes, but for a moment, it became easier for him to breathe. As if a bit of some foreign power had slightly loosened the harnesses, allowing the unequal battle to continue.
Using his most secret reserves, Hadjar formed a colorless wave of his will for the second time. It, once again covering the haze, made it contract for a couple of seconds, but then the haze responded with tenfold resistance.
The haze threw Hadjar back. He seemed to fly an almost infinite distance through the infinite void, and then finally skidded along the ‘ground’. The harnesses had left deep cuts along his body. The blood flowing out of them was actually the energy of his own soul. It was a paradox — by trying to advance further, he was killing himself by forcing his willpower to fight against his subconscious.
“Well then.” Wiping away the red moisture on his lips, Hadjar stood up.
He straightened up and extended his hand in front of him. The darkness surrounding him began to tremble slowly, creating waves that looked like the surface of a disturbed lake.
Gathering together all of his remaining power, will, and knowledge, Hadjar formed a sword in front of him. It didn’t look like Moon Beam or Mountain Wind. It resembled the old, shabby wooden sword that he’d used on a makeshift dummy in his own chambers when he’d been a child growing up in the Palace. It was then that a burning desire had arisen in him, an irresistible need to go forward. Beyond the horizon. This need was why he’d come here, to the darkness of his subconscious, to force himself to do what he desired. Not everyone, whether they were a practitioner or a simple peasant, were capable of such a feat.
The sword that formed in front of Hadjar, though wooden, still emitted a terrifying aura. It felt like an army was imprisoned within it. There was a drumbeat, a clang of metal hitting shields, the neighing of horses, and the cries of people. They were eager for battle and ready to fight to break through to their shared dream.
The haze sent out more harnesses. This time, however, they didn’t reach for Hadjar, but formed the exact same sword. The drumming was replaced by the weeping of widowed spouses. The neighing of horses — by the howling of parents whose children hadn’t come back from a war. The cries of the people were no longer filled with passion, but with the agony of death.
With a loud ‘Ha!’ Hadjar directed his blade at the haze. It responded with its own attack.
The two swords crossed in the middle of the darkness. Hadjar felt guilty for all the soldiers he’d led to their deaths. The guilt bore down on him like a mountain, forcing his knees to bend and his shoulders to lower. His wooden sword weakened beneath the onslaught of its copy made from dust. When the wooden sword cracked, Hadjar’s eyes flashed a bright azure.
“No,” he growled, clenching his fists, “they all chose their own path. Like I chose mine.”
Slowly, he rose, straightening his back and unbending his legs. His wooden sword got stronger and filled with power. With each exhalation, it became more defined. The wood disappeared, exposing the sharp steel beneath, which had black dragons painted along its length.
“I see my path.” His every word was like a hammer striking an anvil. “I know who I am. I’m Hadjar Darkhan. Desert Wind Blowing from the North. Regardless of whoever or whatever stands in my way — mountains and rivers, seas and oceans, empires and legions, gods or demons alike — I’ll reach my goal. Because that is how I choose to live my life.”
His palm merged with the steel sword. Together, they stabbed the haze and got lost in it. A whirlwind of energy raged inside the dark world.
Opening its eyes, the little dragon stretched lazily and, grabbing the black blade, rushed into the white whirlwind.
Chapter 367
“Damn it,” Karissa swore.
Sitting in front of the red dome, she opened her book and began to chant something. With every word she uttered, new scarlet hieroglyphs flew out from the pages. They fastened themselves to the spots on the dome where long cuts gaped. Through them, energy the color of steel kept pouring out. Taking the form of blades, it was cutting through everything around it.
There were leaves cut down from trees scattered about everywhere, along with pieces of bark and wood chips. The grass had also been almost completely mowed.
“What the hell is going on?” Ramukhan came up to them.
A stream of the energy, having cut through the dome, struck directly at the sorcerer. He lazily waved his staff at it. The ghostly blade split apart and turned into flickering dust that disappeared before it touched the ground.