Chapter 433

On a state-of-the-art hologram TV, a respectable-looking middle-aged news anchor spoke.

“Twenty days have passed since the monster wave in Sichuan Province—the tragedy dubbed the ‘Small Cataclysm’—finally came to an end. Across the continent, the cries of suffering people fill the air. CCTV correspondent Zhang Weijia is at the scene.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the screen changed.

Amid ruins reduced to rubble and ash, a young reporter in protective gear faced the camera and began to speak.

“Large-scale recovery efforts are currently underway throughout Sichuan Province. Aid continues to arrive from countries around the world, but the scars left by the war are nothing short of horrific.”

The camera slowly panned across the area.

The young reporter dispatched to cover the story was far from the only person there. Countless people of different countries, languages, and nationalities filled the ruins.

“Lift on three! One, two!”

“Hup!”

Thud-thud-thud. Boom!

There were places that heavy machinery could not enter.

Burly Hunters lifted chunks of stone and concrete instead of weapons, while mages cast detection magic without rest in search of possible survivors.

“How does it look?”

“There don’t seem to be any survivors within a hundred-meter radius.¹ Let’s move a little and try again…”

“Here! We’ve got a survivor reading over here! Hurry!”

Whenever a severely injured survivor was rescued, healers rushed in and showered them with potions and healing magic.

When a child who had reached the brink of death finally drew a steady breath, the people around them exchanged deeply moved smiles.

But the joy lasted only a moment.

The reporter’s next words brought the cruel reality crashing back.

“According to government authorities, the number of dead and injured identified so far has reached four million. Property damage amounts to 2.3 trillion yuan. This is the greatest loss suffered since the Great Cataclysm—dozens of times greater than the damage caused by the Great Sichuan Earthquake.”

In barely a month, millions had died or been injured, and an astronomical amount of money had vanished.

Even more frightening was the fact that all of this was merely the damage tallied so far.

Considering everything from the plunging stock market to the damage this incident had inflicted on various industries, China would suffer badly in the days ahead.

The Chinese people were consumed by grief and fury at the news, directing the arrows of a billion people’s anger in a single direction.

The young reporter at the scene was no exception. His voice seethed with indignation as he continued.

“This monster wave was like a natural disaster beyond human power to stop. But if everyone had joined forces to prepare for the disaster and respond swiftly, the situation would have been very different. Chairman Xiao Yang has offered a profound apology and released the transcript of last month’s meeting.”

Its contents were shocking.

The transcript of the Communist Party’s highest committee meeting, previously hidden from the public, laid bare the bitter clash between Chairman Xiao Yang’s faction, which had urged them to seek immediate assistance from other countries, and the Crown Prince Party, which had argued that they should rally the power of Zhonghua² and fight with the spirit of chivalry.

One person stood out above all the rest.

The star of the transcript was an old politician who had lost everything following the loss of his only son, Wu Heixing.

“Committee Member Wu Xueming, Premier of the State Council and a member of the Central Politburo Standing Committee, has spent more than fifty years in politics. It has now been revealed that he committed countless acts of corruption while leading the Crown Prince Party, the country’s largest political faction.”

Had the outcome been favorable, none of this would have happened.

But the power of Zhonghua² and the spirit of chivalry he had gone on about during the meeting at the beginning of the Small Cataclysm had sounded like nothing but bullshit even to those steeped in Zhonghua² ideology. In the end, they had become the laughingstock of the entire world.

Then it came to light that his past corruption involving the military had led to incidents in which tanks broke down and helicopters crashed. Wu Xueming found himself driven to the edge of a cliff.

And Chairman Xiao Yang, a seasoned politician, did not let the perfect opportunity slip by.

“Committee Member Wu Xueming used his guanxi³ with prominent figures in the military, political, and business worlds to embezzle astronomical sums of money. We are currently investigating every circumstance connected to this incident.”

In truth, the large-scale purge had already begun.

Of the seven standing committee members who formed the Communist Party’s highest echelon, the leading figures of the Crown Prince Party—including Wu Xueming—had been summoned one after another. A sweeping reorganization of the military had also taken place.

The media merely pointed its cameras where the government directed and recited whatever the government chose to show.

Several more investigations and trials still lay ahead, but everyone knew they would be nothing more than formalities.

“Comrades of the people, they will pay the price their crimes deserve. That is justice—”

“Hey, mister.”

Someone abruptly cut off the young reporter’s furious outcry, delivered in complete disregard of his duty as a journalist. His mind went blank.

What kind of lunatic interrupts a live broadcast…?

This was a colossal broadcasting disaster.

The staff at the scene, the main anchor at the broadcasting station’s desk, and even the director watching TV in his office all stared openmouthed.

But the man responsible for the entire mess could not have been calmer.

If anything, he sounded annoyed as he addressed the reporter.

“Move aside. It’s fine that you’re covering the story, but you’re getting in the way.”

“Pardon?”

“Did someone stuff your ears with stinky tofu?⁴ I’m telling you to go film somewhere else instead of blocking the way in the middle of an active work site.”

The young reporter’s face turned as white as paper. He stammered and glanced around.

The staff were terrified by the colossal broadcasting disaster unfolding before them, while the nearby Hunters looked as if someone had finally said exactly what they were thinking.

After a brief struggle, the reporter managed to shake off his panic. He forced a smile and addressed the man.

“I-I’m sorry. It seems we made a mistake.”

“To hell with sorry… Ugh, my throat.”

Khhk—ptooey.

Covered in dust from head to toe, the man spat out a wad of black phlegm and continued.

“It’s only a mistake if you didn’t know. I saw you slip the person in charge some money to get in here, so don’t give me that.”

“E-Excuse me! What exactly are you implying?”

“What do you mean, implying? I saw the whole thing. Wanna bet your balls on it?”

At that moment, the cameraman watching the entire scene unfold at point-blank range felt his own balls tremble.

We’re fucked.

His employer, CCTV, was China’s largest broadcasting station and one of the five biggest in the world.

And now, during the nine-o’clock evening news broadcast watched by tens of millions of people, someone was proposing a bet involving his balls.

The young reporter was already begging the man with the expression of someone whose balls had been cut off.

“S-Sir, please…”

“Hey, kid. Move while I’m asking nicely.”

“This is a broadcast. So please watch your language…”

“Wow, you really don’t listen. There’s a survivor underneath where you’re standing, so move.”

“What?!”

The reporter and every member of the staff leaped back as if they had been burned.

Only then did the man nod.

He strode over to a massive pile of concrete and placed a hand on it.

“That’s better. Now stay back and don’t get in the way. You’ll get hurt.”

Whoosh! Boom!

There was no need to find anyone to help him.

A chunk of concrete that had taken several Hunters to move flew like a pebble, while rock and ground split apart like cheesecake whenever the man’s hand blurred.

Papapapapak!

It was over in the blink of an eye. Before a cup of instant noodles could have finished cooking, the man emerged from the deep pit into which he had vanished.

In his arms was a tiny old woman.

“What… What is this…?”

The broadcasting staff stood speechless at the astonishing sight until the Hunters rushing over pushed them aside.

When a healer in a pure-white robe hurried forward with a potion, the man waved him off.

“Not yet. She’s too weak to handle a potion right now.”

“W-Wait. You look like a close-combat Hunter, but this is my field of expertise…”

“Hmm. I don’t think so.”

The man answered calmly and placed a hand against the old woman’s back.

Warmth radiated from him strongly enough to be felt several meters away,⁵ and a faint trace of color returned to the old woman’s pallid face.

“Move her somewhere warm first. Keep her body temperature up with magic. Once she regains consciousness, you should be able to use a potion or healing magic.”

The healer stared back and forth between the old woman and the man, dumbfounded.

“T-Thank you, sir.”

“No need to thank me for doing the obvious, and no need for the ‘sir.’ Let’s leave it at that. And… hmm.”

The man hesitated briefly before continuing in a low, subdued voice.

“She’s the last one. In this area.”

“Ah…”

Those who understood what he meant let out low groans.

They included not only the Hunters but the broadcasting staff as well. Strangely, although they accepted his claim, they could not hide their bewilderment.

Why?

All they had to do was glance around to see hundreds of Hunters using magic and cutting-edge equipment to search for survivors. It was only natural to trust them over the man standing before them. They should have dismissed his words as nonsense, and yet…

Somehow, I believe him.

Why?

After the astonishing scene they had just witnessed, all thought of a broadcasting disaster vanished from their minds.

Two other thoughts surfaced in its place.

No way. Could it be?

“That’s only my personal opinion. So please don’t give up until the very end.”

The cameraman raised the camera he had unknowingly let droop toward the ground.

Then he called out to the man, who had bowed his head slightly and was about to turn away.

“C-Could you be Mr. Jin?”

His question spoke for everyone present.

The man was so thoroughly covered in dust that they could barely make out his features.

But what he had shown them in that brief moment had clearly reminded them of one person…

“No.”

The answer came without even a breath’s hesitation. The cameraman asked again.

“Y-You’re not?”

“You mean Jin Taekyung? I appreciate the mistake, but why would he be here? According to the news, he hasn’t shown hide nor hair of himself. Who knows what he’s doing?”

That was true. Jin Taekyung was a hero who had not shown his face once since the press conference.

It seemed absurd that they had suspected him based on nothing more than a vague feeling.

Just as the cameraman sighed, the young reporter suddenly spoke.

“Then may I ask you one question?”

“No. Take care.”

“What do you think of the claim that Mr. Jin is descended from Chen Lin, the Ming Dynasty general who fought in the Imjin War?”⁶

At that moment, the man walking away spun around like lightning.

“Why does everyone have to be someone’s descendant? Then, for fuck’s sake, is Asmodeus descended from Einstein? Even bullshit should make some kind of sense…”

“Ah…”

“Uh…”

A silence fell as if the world itself had stopped.

The man—Jin Taekyung—looked at the people staring blankly at him and opened his mouth.

“You all know I was joking, right?”

“…”

“I was just passing by and stopped in for a moment.”

“…”

“Please edit this out. And cut the part about the balls too.”

The reporter, finally recovering from the shock, barely managed to squeeze out his voice.

“It’s live, sir.”

“Oh.”

Jin Taekyung nodded, his expression devastated, then asked again.

“Live? You’re not joking? It’s actually live?”

“Yes.”

“Then how much of that did you broadcast…?”

“I’m sorry, but from the beginning to the end…”

“Any idea what the ratings are?”

“I just checked the messages. They say we’ve broken through thirty percent.”

“Oh. I see.”

Jin Taekyung fell silent for a moment, then started walking away.

The young reporter, whose life had just turned around as a colossal broadcasting disaster transformed into a sensational exclusive, called after him desperately.

“S-Sir! Where are you going?”

The answer came back, drained of all energy.

“Home.”

He was telling the truth.

A formation of dozens of aircraft swept across the sky and landed on the vast expanse of freshly cleared ground.

It was the aircraft formation that would take him back to Korea while he was briefly going to another world.