Infiltration (2)

“Still not yet?”

“What do you mean, ‘still not yet’?”

“The bastard who cut off my finger at the Jeongmun Lab. Haven’t you found him yet?”

“I’ve told you again and again. We’ve got no informants in Jeongmun Pharma, and the mercenary corps couldn’t find anything with just surface-level investigations.”

“F***, so how long am I supposed to keep shadow boxing into thin air?”

“Just wait. That guy didn’t use many skills at the time. It’s hard to pinpoint a specific hunter.”

“Ugh, this is driving me crazy!”

“It’s regrettable you had to undergo reconstructive surgery after losing your finger. But maybe it’s time to let it go now…”

“Bullshit! Even my parents never laid a hand on me. Do you really think I’ll just let the bastard who cut off my finger go free?”

“…I don’t know. Then Seon-rak, you look into it yourself. My sources have their limits.”

Around that time.

Jung Seon-rak and Ye Jin-bin of the Shinsu Guild were once again revisiting an old topic.

It was the incident where Seon-rak had lost a finger to Kang-hoo during his attack on Jeongmun’s First Research Lab.

Ever since, Seon-rak had tried to identify “that guy” who cut off his finger by reviewing field footage and more.

But the information was just too scarce, and tracking him down was proving difficult.

The world is vast, and there are many skills. Trying to find a hunter based on just a few skills was a fool’s errand.

At this point, the only one willing to tolerate Seon-rak’s near-hysterical tantrums was his friend, Ye Jin-bin.

Of course, the only reason Seon-rak could throw tantrums in the first place was because he was an executive of the Shinsu Guild.

Ye Jin-bin changed the subject.

“We should prepare to go to Korea.”

“Who? You?”

“Me, and you too.”

“What now?”

“There was an unofficial request from the Jeonghwa Guild. They want us to attack The Abyss. Probably because of the Battle of Dongducheon.”

“What kind of dumbasses can’t even handle a local warlord and have to beg for help from outside?”

“…Exactly.”

“Under what affiliation?”

“Mercenaries.”

“Don’t want to come under the Shinsu Guild name?”

“Probably because they don’t want to be criticized for dragging foreign powers into a domestic affair. You know how much Jang Si-hwan cares about his public image.”

“Yeah, he’s a hypocrite of the highest order. Disgusting bastard. If it weren’t for the Jeonghwa Guild, I’d have killed and buried him already.”

“You’ve got such a foul mouth…”

Ye Jin-bin shook his head at Seon-rak’s increasingly vulgar language.

Although, he wasn’t exactly wrong.

The attack on Jeongmun’s First Research Lab had, in truth, been incited by the Jeonghwa Guild.

Publicly, they framed it with another pretext, but it was clearly Jeonghwa Guild’s instigation that led to the attack.

The sharper hunters probably figured it out back then.

Why the Jeonghwa Guild remained lukewarm despite a multinational mercenary group targeting the Jeongmun Lab.

However, very few hunters knew the truth.

Most people were busy condemning Jeongmun Pharma’s alleged atrocities, thoroughly manipulated and distorted by propaganda.

Jeonghwa Guild’s propaganda machine was top-notch.

To the point where China’s Shinto Guild and their own Shinsu Guild would dispatch executives to observe and learn.

Some guild members even worked in Jeonghwa Guild’s ‘propaganda department’ to build career experience.

“Anyway. So we go in as mercenaries and attack The Abyss? With no affiliation, we can do anything without scrutiny.”

“Exactly.”

“Perfect. My hands have been itching lately. I feel like I won’t be satisfied until I see some blood.”

“You’re going?”

“Of course I’m going. Why would I miss out on a fight where I can legally spill blood?”

Seon-rak chuckled.

It was hard to believe this was the same person who’d been raging over his finger just moments ago.

While Seon-rak seemed genuinely thrilled just at the prospect of fighting again…

Ye Jin-bin, who could observe the situation with more detachment, felt uneasy about the proposal.

The reason was that the Jeonghwa Guild had been struggling far more than expected.

It made Ye Jin-bin suspect that the Jeonghwa Guild’s capabilities weren’t what they used to be.

When he had the chance to speak privately with Jang Si-hwan, the latter had hinted at something.

That The Abyss would collapse on its own before long.

Jang Si-hwan wasn’t one to speak nonsense, so Jin-bin had assumed such a smart man had a clever plan.

But now, The Abyss didn’t look like it was collapsing—if anything, they were gathering even more strength.

‘Maybe the only option isn’t for the Shinto Guild or our Shinsu Guild to prop up the Jeonghwa Guild.’

Ye Jin-bin’s eyes wavered.

Even the most beautiful flowers don’t last ten days.

Perhaps that phrase would soon apply to the Jeonghwa Guild too. No one knows what the future holds.

At that time.

‘This stench really is something else.’

Kang-hoo had successfully infiltrated the detention center area via Tunnel 18.

Typically, the mine shafts were considered within the detention center’s area of influence, and Kang-hoo had made that judgment.

The stench of rotting corpses filled the air.

Even without trying to inspect it, unidentifiable corpses were scattered throughout the tunnels.

The few bodies with some flesh still clinging to them were rare—most had already decomposed to bare bones.

The structure of the detention center was exactly as Kang-hoo remembered it—faithfully replicated from the original story.

For that reason, entering as far as Tunnel 18 was no issue, and there was no risk of triggering any alarms.

However, the real problem began when heading from Tunnel 18 toward the detention block, guard quarters, and incineration sector.

He had to exit the tunnel, but in doing so, he’d inevitably have to pass through detection systems.

Even though it was a closed-off tunnel, all the basic detection devices had been installed.

They were running a fairly lucrative mana stone mine—if the facilities were poorly managed, it wouldn’t add up.

They didn’t do anything sloppy like removing existing equipment or neglecting to install devices in critical areas.

Of course, if there was one trap, it was that maintenance was neglected, so malfunctions were frequent.

【At Cheongmyeong Detention Center, where budget siphoning was rampant, even the warden was stingy about maintenance.

Each month, Eclipse allocated a fixed budget for management, but it was rarely fully used.

Only 10% of the budget was minimally spent on facility upkeep; the rest went into the pockets of the warden and senior guards.

All Eclipse members working at Cheongmyeong Detention Center were part of a single corrupt collective.】

This was something even the original story had mentioned.

That trend likely hadn’t changed.

Kang-hoo was probably the first and last inmate to ever escape the detention center.

They didn’t bother fortifying the perimeter in any meaningful way—reinforcement was costly, after all.

So how did they strengthen security? The method was simple.

They’d frame a few prisoners and execute them as an example, instilling fear in the rest.

It was a cheap and effective way to crush any will to escape.

Nine times out of ten, Cheongmyeong Detention Center would’ve used that method. In other words, there were still many gaps.

‘Since this is a magic-detection type of security system, even if I use stealth, I’ll end up getting caught.’

To pass through the security zone, he’d have to use mana in some way.

Whether leaping or using Shadow Step to reposition—mana would be used.

Then the system would detect the mana fluctuation and trigger the alarm. Not an ideal choice.

From a psychological standpoint, there was a way to turn the situation to his advantage.

The next moment—

Kang-hoo used the Shadow Step skill and touched the detection zone with a shadow.

Beep— beep— beep—.

Instantly, an alarm blared.

From that point, Kang-hoo entered stealth mode, hiding himself as best he could in the darkness beyond the light’s reach.

The shadows would conceal him once, but stealth was his insurance.

He held his breath, waiting for a guard to respond to the alarm. This was his first plan.

Quite a bit of time passed.

Perhaps because the alarm wasn’t that loud, it didn’t seem like things were in a frenzy outside the tunnel.

For a moment, Kang-hoo wondered if the system was so poorly managed that not a single guard was coming.

Then he heard footsteps, dragging slippers across the ground—someone had arrived at the tunnel.

“Damn it, every time with this crap… What’s the point of submitting maintenance requests if they never get approved? Son of a…”

The grumbling guard’s voice was laced with thick frustration.

A loud burp followed, and the stench of alcohol filled the air—strong enough for Kang-hoo’s sensitive nose to pick up.

Despite all the complaining, the guard knew full well that the whiskey he had just drunk was a ‘gesture’ from the warden.

Accepting reality, the guard seemed focused on resolving the issue quickly.

“If an alarm’s ringing from a sealed tunnel, then, well…”

Sliiide—

Though he was convinced it was a malfunction, the guard still walked all the way into the tunnel, just in case.

Even though Kang-hoo was only about five meters away in stealth, the guard didn’t notice a thing.

Kang-hoo considered killing the guard if his identity was about to be exposed.

But after gauging the man’s abilities, he realized it was unnecessary. A guard without even a single constellation contract wouldn’t detect him.

“Ugh, the smell. I should just reset and get the hell out. I’m gonna puke up all the snacks I just ate… damn. Uurrgh.”

The guard turned around, gagging repeatedly.

The unbearable stench of corpses was riding the wind blowing out of Tunnel 18.

Click!

Clang. Clatter! Whiiiir!

‘Good.’

Kang-hoo immediately activated Silent Step and followed closely behind the guard.

The “reset” the guard just initiated literally meant restarting the detection systems.

This created a gap of about 10 seconds during which the system wouldn’t function properly—mana detection would be disabled.

“……”

Kang-hoo, having completely suppressed his presence, trailed behind the guard. The guard didn’t sense a thing.

Seemingly tipsy, the guard whistled as he headed toward the guard station.

Chak! Whiiiir!

The detection system restarted shortly after, but by then, Kang-hoo had already exited the tunnel.

Kang-hoo quietly followed behind the guard but didn’t kill him.

It wasn’t out of some misguided mercy.

Killing him would’ve been the least valuable strategic move.

Even if the defenses were lax, if a guard sent to a tunnel failed to return, people would start asking questions.

To Kang-hoo, whose real target was Warden Jo Hwan-seong, this lowly guard wasn’t even worth the effort.

Just then—

Whirr. Whirr.

An infrared CCTV camera mounted nearby turned to face where the guard and Kang-hoo were.

Even in stealth mode, body heat couldn’t be completely hidden.

If he entered the camera’s view, his figure would be exposed, stealth or not.