Chapter 96: Conspiracy

A modern 360-story skyscraper in Moscow, the most colossal corporate headquarters built in Russia since the Great Change.

“The Nine Heavens Bone King has returned,” a man in a red suit murmured, gazing down at the glittering cityscape stretching out below the 360th floor.

Behind him stood six Hunters in black suits, their expressions taut with tension. The snowflake emblem emblazoned on the left breast of their suits identified them as members of Saint Winter’s, one of Russia’s most prestigious international mercenary guilds. These were A-Rank Hunters, elite even within their esteemed organization.

Yet even these renowned experts, handpicked for their prowess, remained silent and rigid, momentarily awed by the weight of the news.

“I haven’t lost a wink of sleep in the past three years,” the man continued, “but this morning I woke up on my own, before dawn.”

With those words, the blond-haired middle-aged man gripped my shoulder and spun me around.

He was the leader of Saint Winter’s, Sergei Mavrodi, an S-Class Hunter who had been active during the Great Change thirty years ago.

His blue eyes radiated kindness, and his demeanor projected warmth and sincerity.

Yet, contrary to his widely known, carefully cultivated image, Sergei was inherently ruthless, a man who wouldn’t hesitate to commit any dirty deed to achieve his goals.

Of course, only a handful knew his true nature.

“Do you know why, James?” he asked, turning away with an affable smile.

The mercenary called James swallowed hard before answering. “The Nine Heavens Bone King… isn’t it because that old man announced his return?”

“Close enough,” Sergei replied.

Sergei grimaced, pointing to his shoulder, which he had been steadily rubbing, and winked. “It’s been throbbing. That old man’s Blood Magic pierced it, you know.”

Twenty-five years ago, he had set foot on Korean soil as a member of the Russian Mercenary Corps, the predecessor to Saint Winter’s. Their official mission was civilian relief.

But of course, their true purpose had nothing to do with such noble ideals.

Financial gain.

So, while outwardly posing as “yellow-haired Koreans,” they secretly looted aid supplies, pilfered belongings from civilian victims, and ransacked empty houses, diverting the spoils for massive profits.

This scheme continued for months.

Until he caught on.

That’s right.

Until Go Geonho witnessed them raiding a half-demolished bank vault during a Gate expedition. Sergei initially tried to bribe Go Geonho into silence, but when that failed, he resorted to force.

In the end, the Nine Heavens Bone King thoroughly subdued him. He and his mercenary group were handed over to the International Criminal Court and promptly repatriated to their home country.

The shoulder wound Go Geonho had inflicted on him during his reckless assault never fully healed, leaving a permanent scar like a brand.

“I wonder how much money I had to funnel through back channels to scrub my image,” the Russian hero muttered with a wry chuckle.

But that was all in the past. Thanks to the stolen funds he had poured into corrupt officials and the media, he had erased his sordid history and become a hero.

Of course, Go Geonho’s extreme aversion to public exposure also played a crucial role. Go Geonho had quietly let him go without making any official statements or announcements.

Thus, not long after his disgraceful repatriation…

Through the power of manipulated mass media, Sergei was swiftly hailed as “Sergei, the Cataclysmic Hero.”

Saint Winter’s followed a similar path. To erase the image of his notorious former mercenary group, he poured vast sums of money into media outlets, bribed high-ranking officials in the Russian Orthodox Church to secure their patronage, and launched humanitarian missions and charitable campaigns in developing nations. By exaggerating these acts of goodwill, he successfully branded himself internationally as the leader of the “Mercenary Corps of Justice.”

This brought him wealth and fame, and he now stood at the helm of “Light of the Far East,” Saint Winter’s, one of Russia’s largest organizations with a massive global following.

Yet, the bitter resentment toward the Nine Heavens Bone King still lingered deep within him, as deeply as the scar etched into his shoulder.

“Shall we take care of him?” A Japanese mercenary standing before him spoke.

“Take care of him?”

“Yes. If that old man is becoming a nuisance…”

“Hey, Akihiro. This isn’t your old villain team.”

Sergei chuckled. “We’re the Light of the Far East, one of the world’s most renowned mercenary groups. We don’t just crush people like ants because they annoy us.”

Despite his smiling face, a sharp, menacing aura radiated from his crimson suit.

Akihiro swallowed hard and quickly lowered his head. “My apologies. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“And even though the Nine Heavens Bone King once retired and is well past sixty now, even with your skills, quietly dealing with him would be impossible.”

“The Nine Heavens Bone King is that formidable…?”

“You’d be lucky if he didn’t turn you into one of his Undead.”

”…”

Sergei swept his gaze across the Hunters and asked, “Alright, then. Anyone else have something to say?”

Most chose silence.

Anything said here could become a toxin.

That was their shared assessment.

But then, a voice cut through the tension: “What about using the Nine Heavens Bone King’s officially recognized disciple this time?”

The speaker was a sharp-featured man with slicked-back hair and rimless glasses. His attire set him apart from the other mercenaries: a red suit instead of black, and a long katana strapped to his back.

The most striking feature was the embroidered pattern on his suit—a dragon plummeting from the sky. A roaring tiger was additionally stitched onto his right breast.

The dragon motif hinted at his former affiliation with the Heavenly Flow Society, once ranked number one among China’s guilds.

The Tiger’s Mark signified that he was a Tiger-class Hunter in China, equivalent to an S-Rank International License.

“Team Leader Chen Weiting.”

Sergei’s gaze sharpened as he studied the man.

Chen Weiting.

A promising talent from Saint Winter’s and second-in-command within their mercenary group. He held only the title of Team Leader because Sergei had eliminated the Vice Guild Leader position to consolidate his own power. In practice, he already functioned as Saint Winter’s Vice Guild Leader.

“Tell me more,” Sergei said.

“The Blood Magic Heir who accompanied the Nine Heavens Bone King to his press conference—Lee Taejun, I believe. What if we used him to disgrace the Bone King?”

“Hmm,” Sergei hummed thoughtfully.

“The Bone King appointed Lee Taejun as Vice Guild Leader of the Hwiryung Guild and even recommended him for a special A-Rank promotion examination. He’s staking his entire reputation and name on pushing this man forward.”

Of course, I had already thoroughly investigated Taejun. I had even spent a considerable sum on a reputable information broker in this line of work.

However, Sergei feigned ignorance and asked, “Have you looked into this Lee Taejun?”

“Yes. According to our findings, he was promoted to B-rank less than six months ago.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“For such a newcomer, he’s made quite a name for himself in a short amount of time.”

It was a pointed question, designed to catch me off guard.

Yet Jin Wijeong answered without a flicker in his eyes, “He set a new record in a rigged B-rank Promotion Examination, achieving a two-rank jump. And less than two months later, he single-handedly cleared a 1.5-grade Rampage Dungeon.”

Sergei nodded slowly.

But that wasn’t all. According to the information broker, Taejun had also single-handedly apprehended a notorious Villain Team that had been targeting him.

He had single-handedly defeated a powerful Vampire Noble. He had also ascended to the position of Vice Guild Leader Hwiryung by confidently overpowering the previous holder and proving his capabilities.

If the intelligence reports were accurate, Taejun undoubtedly deserved the title of “Super Rookie.” He was precisely the kind of talent the Nine Heavens Bone King would stake his reputation on promoting.

And yet…

“How could someone like that be turned into a liability for the Nine Heavens Bone King?”

“There’s one crucial point,” Jin Wijeong said, his eyes gleaming coldly. “As the President is aware, all the information about Lee Taejun—except for his Promotion Examination—has never been publicly verified.”

“Hmm.”

The intelligence broker had also identified this.

Apart from the staged live broadcast of his Promotion Examination, Lee Taejun had yet to publicly demonstrate his abilities.

Clearing a 1.5-star Rampage Dungeon, dismantling a Villain Team, subjugating a Vampire Noble, and overpowering Vice Guild Leader Hwiryung—only the results were known; the processes remained hidden.

Even the highly publicized Promotion Examination had its live broadcast abruptly cut off during the boss battle.

Therefore, the public’s expectations of Lee Taejun remained unfulfilled. After all, people tend to believe most in what they can see with their own eyes.

Thus, “If Lee Taejun fails to publicly demonstrate his abilities before everyone, the public’s reaction will completely reverse.”

It’s surprisingly common for a rising star to plummet to rock bottom, branded as an overhyped flop, after just one failure to meet expectations. This happens not only in the Hunter World but in every industry that relies on public opinion.

But more important than Lee Taejun’s downfall was this:

“And the Nine Heavens Bone King, who showered him with benefits, will naturally face even greater criticism and be dragged down with him.”

The corner of Sergei’s mouth curled upward involuntarily.

The thought of the Nine Heavens Bone King, his reputation shattered, groveling in the dirt, was utterly delightful.

Sergei himself had poured billions into the media and political circles to claw his way back to the top.

But Go Geonho wasn’t like that.

If he fell into the abyss, he would be trapped there forever, unable to escape.

In that case…

“How do you plan to use Lee Taejun?”

“Remember that Class 2 Precursor Gate we successfully bid on recently?”

“Ah, the A-72 Gate auctioned by the International Headquarters. The one we were planning to sell to another Korean Guild for a fortune?”

“What if we tackled that Gate as a publicly broadcast expedition? We could request cooperation from Hwiryong—specifically, from Lee Taejun.”

“And if he refuses?”

“Before formally requesting his cooperation, we’ll leak the information to the Korean media. If he declines, we’ll simply turn his refusal into a news story.”

“Something along the lines of, ‘The Nine Heavens Bone King’s disciple too afraid to join a single expedition’?”

“Exactly.”

Not a bad idea.

That alone would make the public seriously doubt both Lee Taejun’s capabilities and the Nine Heavens Bone King’s judgment.

“Let’s assume he agrees to join the expedition. What’s the next step?”

“Simple. We’ll live-stream the entire expedition and give it our best.”

“Hmm.”

Sergei’s eyes narrowed.

“It seems they’ve concluded that Lee Taejun’s abilities fall far short of public expectations. They must be confident that we can thoroughly humiliate him simply by deploying our full force on this expedition.”

“Commander, as you know, I only believe what I see. And he hasn’t shown us anything substantial yet.”

“Hmm.”

“Moreover, our intelligence suggests that the Hwiryung Guild he recently joined…”

“I’m aware. Ever since Go Geonho retired and his nephew seized control, it’s reportedly become a complete dumping ground for trash.”

Even if Lee Taejun himself is competent, the Hwiryung Guild members likely won’t even be able to keep up with the Saint Winter’s mercenaries. They’ll undoubtedly be overwhelmed by such a high-level Gate, stumbling around clueless about what to do.

If that’s the case, our task becomes even easier.

“Crush the other side’s expectations by demonstrating overwhelming superiority. In truth, there’s no more natural way.”

If they could decisively outshine Lee Taejun and Hwiryong during this joint expedition…

The public, once eager to witness the rise of a new star, would swiftly turn against Lee Taejun, mocking his incompetence.

Furthermore, they would criticize Go Geonho’s flawed judgment in backing him.

Yes.

Such was the fickle nature of the masses: today they praise a savior, and tomorrow they hurl stones, condemning him.

Of course, there were exceptions, like Sergei himself, who held the opposite view.

Not bad. In fact, this might be the best approach.

Especially considering Lee Taejun’s public image as the “Light of the Far East.”

Naturally, outright sabotage or malicious traps against Lee Taejun were impossible.

Thus, they would have to proceed through legitimate means.

Jin Wijeong’s proposed method was the optimal solution.

If the plan went smoothly, Saint Winter’s reputation would remain untarnished. All it required was leveraging Sergei’s primary weapon: the mass media.

“And if I remain behind the scenes, relying solely on the media, I won’t be violating the ‘agreement’ I made with the Nine Heavens Bone King.”

Conversely, the Nine Heavens Bone King, bound by that same agreement, would be powerless to intervene directly, even in the face of blatant harassment targeting his disciple.

Perfect.

“Over 10 billion won was poured into the A-72 Gate, and they planned to sell the expedition rights for at least 15 billion won. In fact, Korean Guilds were already bidding around that amount.”

“But according to the International Headquarters’ analysis, even if we launched the expedition ourselves, we wouldn’t incur any losses.”

The A-72 Gate, which we secured through bidding, is classified as a Class 2 hazard by International Headquarters. When activated, its danger level can escalate to Class 1.5, making it an extremely perilous Gate.

Naturally, the financial rewards for clearing it would be immense. According to International Headquarters, it contains rare monsters yielding byproducts worth at least 10 billion won. A colossal species known as the Byurosen Giant has even been observed within.

Still, selling the expedition rights would be more profitable.

We wouldn’t need to deploy personnel all the way from Russia to Korea, nor would we have to endure the cumbersome procedures required for collaborative expeditions.

“I suppose we’ll have to endure this much trouble,” Sergei murmured, a faint smile curving his lips after a brief silence. “Very well. Then we must ensure our forces are fully equipped for this expedition.”

All the better to plunge the Nine Heavens Bone King and Lee Taejun deeper into the abyss.

His own guild.

Saint Winter’s needed to project an image of perfection and overwhelming power.

Therefore, Sergei addressed Jin Wijeong, the Far Eastern Holy Sword, who maintained his impassive expression even in this critical moment. Jin Wijeong was Saint Winter’s most skilled member and the one Sergei trusted most.

“Jin Wijeong, I’m assigning you to lead this expedition.”

Jin Wijeong’s eyes flashed with interest.

The foremost Mana-based swordsmanship technique in modern China.

Jin Wijeong was one of its legitimate heirs, a pride he carried even now as a mercenary.

“Consider it done,” the swordsman replied, a rare smile curving his lips for the first time. “I will do my utmost to ensure Saint Winter’s reputation remains untarnished.”

The morning after the press conference.

My body still ached from the lingering exhaustion of Daehwa Island, every movement stiff and sluggish.

I lay blankly on the bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying Go Geonho’s words in my mind.

“You resemble them.”

He said I resembled them—the Hunters from the Nine Heavens Bone King’s era, when survival demanded staking your life on strength, when weakness meant a miserable death.

His words rang true.

As long as these messages floated before my eyes…

It was good that completing the special quest through Blood Magic had increased my Synchronization rate by 3%.

But upon closer examination, there wasn’t much to celebrate.

Despite acquiring the powerful skill “Demonic Blood,” my Synchronization had only increased by a mere 3%.

This was the main reason I had gone to the trouble of asking Go Geonho for help, hoping to achieve A-Rank promotion this year.

At this rate of Synchronization increase, I concluded it would be impossible to consistently meet the Synchronization target with just my B-Rank License before next year’s Promotion Examination.

Manager Mi’s chat window slowly slid into view.

“I have to be.”

It would be a lie to say I was fine without thinking about it.

It was true that I’d been experiencing a slight headache for the past few days.

“Thank you,” I replied with a smile.

I had no intention of wallowing in self-pity.

It was true that I felt a little anxious, and that anxiety brought a bit more pressure.

Still, I remained confident.

Confident that I could overcome the challenges posed by this Remarkable Growth.

After all, the A-Rank Promotion Examination was still several months away.

So, for now, perhaps I should focus on filling the remaining 2% of my Synchronization gauge.

Just as I was about to open the ‘Memo Pad’ function to start planning…

Ding!

A notification I had forgotten about appeared in the corner of my Status Window.