Chapter 63

Chapter 63
## Chapter 63: Selecting Hunters

Han Sang-cheol observed his grandchildren, Han Hoon and Han Soo-hee, standing amidst the debris of the destroyed dining area.

“That brat has no sense of humility,” Han Hoon muttered.

“And that is precisely why you are still falling short, you simpleton,” Han Sang-cheol replied.

With a composed expression, Han Sang-cheol looked over the table that had been sliced perfectly in two and the guards whose bodies remained encased in ice.

“Is that so? To me, it just seemed like he has a problem controlling his temper.”

“A problem? Hardly. Soo-hee, if you possessed that level of self-restraint, I wouldn’t have a single worry about you.”

He chose to show rage because the circumstances permitted it. To be more exact, he put on a performance of being incensed.

Whether Yoo Chan-seok was genuinely livid or just acting was anyone’s guess. However, one fact was undeniable: he was in a position where he could express anger without facing any negative repercussions.

“I should have just taken him down right there,” Han Hoon growled.

“And how would that have generated a profit? Do you ever calculate the costs before you spout nonsense?”

Han Hoon fell silent at his grandfather’s rebuke. It wasn’t that Han Sang-cheol felt no irritation. Naturally, he was offended—having a youngster point chopsticks at his face like a weapon would make anyone’s blood boil.

But venting that frustration wouldn’t put money in their coffers.

“Feelings are temporary. But the capital sitting in a bank account serves you for a lifetime—at least until it’s spent or seized by the taxman.”

Han Sang-cheol drifted into a brief moment of reflection before continuing.

“Well, inflation does erode the value over the years, but the digits in the ledger stay the same, so let’s ignore that for now.”

Regardless, they couldn’t afford to waste their energy on fleeting bouts of temper.

“That mindset is exactly how I built Geumyang Group into a titan.”

He didn’t waste time on trivialities that didn’t yield a return.

“If screaming at that boy would have made us a dime, I would have been the loudest person in the room.”

But it wouldn’t have. Yoo Chan-seok was a gold mine. His recent performance in England had proven his worth beyond a doubt.

“The entire world is focused on him right now.”

“Grandfather, that jerk openly insulted Geumyang Group. If the public finds out what happened here, our reputation will tank, leading to actual financial hits. We have to handle this immediately…”

Han Sang-cheol’s brow furrowed as he listened to Han Hoon’s reasoning.

“You are simply angry, and now you’re trying to use ‘business interests’ as a shield to justify your desire for revenge.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Think in reverse. Always in reverse. Use your spite as a motivation to generate wealth. Never use wealth as a justification to satisfy your spite. Do you understand?”

Han Hoon pressed his lips together and said nothing more.

“We could always take care of it quietly so that no one links it back to Geumyang. Should I set things in motion?”

Han Sang-cheol let out a disparaging click of his tongue at Han Soo-hee’s pitch.

“You believe you’re being crafty, but the world is full of ‘crafty’ people just like you.”

Han Soo-hee wasn’t actually built for subtle, shadow-work. She liked to think of herself as a puppeteer, but in Han Sang-cheol’s eyes, she was much better suited for a direct fight.

“I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going, Grandfather?”

“I have a match in LoL with the boys. There’s a bet on the line involving some high-end liquor. That idiot Sil-tak had the nerve to challenge me, clearly forgetting his rank.”

Han Hoon and Han Soo-hee wore baffled expressions. Han Sang-cheol scoffed at their judgment.

“What’s with those looks? I’ve been a LoL player since I was a kid. What, you think I’m supposed to suddenly switch to Go just because I’m old?”

People who grew up playing Go keep playing it in their twilight years, and the generation raised on LoL does the same.

“There are hobbies more fitting for your status, like golf…”

“You play golf when you’re ancient. I’m playing LoL.”

With that sharp comeback, Han Sang-cheol cleared his throat and stood up.

“But about the special elixirs we’ve been providing him…”

“What? Didn’t I tell you he’s a walking paycheck? Keep the supply lines open. Don’t provoke him for no reason. Besides, Sang-ah is looking after him.”

“Sang-ah is…”

Han Sang-cheol gave a frustrated grunt and gestured dismissively with his walking stick toward his grandchildren.

“Can’t you tell by looking at Sang-ah? She has zero interest in the inheritance I’ve prepared. Stop fighting ghosts and just compete with each other already.”

Morons. Sometimes you had to be blunt for the message to sink in. Without another word, Han Sang-cheol exited the area.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
His response was somewhat startling, yet not so bizarre that it lacked logic.

“He thinks I’m going to make him a fortune.”

That was the sole reason he was holding back. With a mindset like that, we could probably maintain a working relationship even if I did something truly outrageous.

“What’s the destination?”

“The Hunter Association.”

Han Sang-ah gave a brief nod and stepped out in front. As we approached the headquarters, the eyes of every hunter in the vicinity were fixed on us.

A man suddenly walked up and blocked my path.

“I heard the rumors. You’re looking for a crew to raid a Rank 1 Erosion Core.”

“That’s right.”

The man puffed out his chest confidently.

“Sign me up.”

I scanned his stats for a moment before shaking my head.

“I’ll pass. You don’t meet my standards.”

Bringing someone who isn’t up to par is a death sentence for them and a liability for the team.

The chatter inside the association lobby died down instantly.

“What did you just say to me, kid?”

“You heard me. This isn’t a training camp.”

My goal wasn’t to mentor novices. It was to assemble a group of elites to clear a Rank 1 Erosion Core. If they wanted a teacher, they should enroll in the same academy Han Sang-ah attended.

“I wasn’t going to get heated, but who gave you the right to act as a gatekeeper for everyone else?”

A predictable reaction. When you judge others, they’ll inevitably question your authority to do so. I could feel the rising wave of resentment from the other hunters who had been planning to apply.

“You want to know? Fine, I’ll show you.”

It was better to prove it once and for all. No sense in avoiding the inevitable.

“I’ll coordinate with the Association President to secure a testing area. Sit tight.”

I reached out to the Association President and secured a room in the facility—the very same hall where I had completed my initial hunter certification.

“Anyone who has an issue with my decision, take a number and wait your turn.”

I moved into the center of the arena to give them the demonstration they were looking for.

“There are 357 people in line,” Han Sang-ah informed me.

I let out a heavy sigh. That was a lot of work. Just then, a notification arrived from the Association President.

[News outlets are requesting permission to broadcast the trials.]

I didn’t mind. Seeing it wouldn’t change the reality of the gap between us. The public was already fixated on my abilities. Since I had already sparked this fire, I might as well give the media the fuel they wanted.

I took my stance, leveling my spear at the first challenger across from me.

“Let’s begin.”

I didn’t have all day. And so, under the lenses of news cameras and the watchful eyes of the hunter community, the duels commenced.

“I… I give up.”

“Good work. Next.”

One after another, I faced the line of applicants.

By the time eight hours had passed, I had neutralized 87 opponents. The spectators, who had initially been skeptical, now looked visibly shaken.

“How is this possible? How is he not exhausted?”

In truth, my raw power didn’t seem overwhelming at a glance. I didn’t radiate the massive mana signatures typical of the Partner Hunters from guilds like Zanabi, Mugunghwa, or Taebaek.

Yet, after eight hours of continuous combat and 87 consecutive wins, the mood in the room had shifted to pure dread.

“His mana levels haven’t fluctuated once. He’s exactly where he was when he started.”

Their hushed conversations reached me clearly. I hadn’t even revealed my best moves yet. Against these challengers, I hadn’t felt the need to use Cannon or the Quad Shadow Spear.

The majority of them could have been neutralized instantly using the frost ring I’d acquired from the Bratsk’s fridge incident.

However, I was sticking to basic techniques. Fast victories make for boring television, and this was being streamed live.

Two days went by. More than 280 hunters had stepped into the ring and been defeated.

“Jeong Oh-hun.”

The 281st challenger walked forward. He carried a long-range rifle with a bayonet attached to the muzzle that shimmered under the lights.

“Ready?”

“Go for it.”

Jeong Oh-hun gave his rifle a stylish spin and leveled it at me. I lunged forward with my spear.

His body seemed to glide across the floor, maintaining a perfect firing posture while evading. My spear tip hit nothing but air.

The sound of gunfire filled the room immediately. I knocked the bullets aside and looked at him, genuinely surprised.

“What kind of movement is that?”

He was essentially skating through the air—not with physical blades, but by using wind mana to hover just above the ground.

“It’s a simple trick, but it keeps me employed.”

“It’s good enough to keep you well-fed, I’d say.”

It wasn’t just the hovering; his mana management was flawless. There wasn’t even a hint of a tremor in his aim.

With that kind of stability, he could likely maneuver through any position without losing his shot.

A volley of shots followed—tatatang. The mana-coated projectiles bounced off the environment, curving through the air to target me from multiple angles.

Ricochet tactics. A fundamental skill for any high-level marksman.

Half an hour later, Jeong Oh-hun—his gear looking worse for wear—stared at me in disbelief.

“Damn, I really thought I’d be able to land at least one hit.”

“You were close, weren’t you?”

He shook his head and waved his hands frantically.

“Not even. A guy like me doesn’t have that kind of luck against you.”

“Close-quarters combat with a weapon like that isn’t something just anyone can pull off.”

He gave a thoughtful hum.

“I suppose so.”

I planted my spear into the floorboards.

“Give me your strongest shot. I’m curious to see it.”

A sharp light entered his eyes.

“Seriously? These rounds can do real damage even if they just graze you.”

“I’d feel like I cheated if I didn’t see what you’re really capable of.”

He gave a firm nod, took aim, and inhaled deeply.

“Fair warning—this takes a moment to charge, but when it goes off, it’s devastating.”

“It only hurts if it connects.”

A high-pitched whistling sound began to echo. Wind was swirling violently around the barrel.

“Oh boy.”

I muttered to myself, tightening my grip on the spear. Finally, he pulled the trigger. The bullet streaked toward me—I swiped it aside with ease.

But at that exact moment, a thunderous boom erupted as the wind pressure intensified—the bayonet itself shot off the rifle like a missile, propelled by a blast of air.

I swung my spear to intercept. A heavy metallic ring vibrated through the air as I deflected it. My palms felt like they were on fire.

The bayonet I had just knocked away didn’t fall. It stopped dead in the air with a burst of wind and then came screaming back at my blind spot, trailing a vortex.

“…”

It moved faster than the speed of sound, darting like a lethal hornet and constantly shifting its path without losing momentum.

“You don’t just have the skill; your vision is incredible.”

Most hunters would try to parry or block it directly. But doing so would only allow the weapon to find a gap.

A parry only changes the path slightly, but that bayonet was capable of re-targeting in the blink of an eye.

The second you think you’ve succeeded in defending, it recalibrates with a gust of wind and strikes again.