Not a Chance!
“Aaaah—!”
“Sinhyeok! Over here, please!”
“Whoa! Kim Sinhyeok!”
Namsan was packed again today. At this point, it had become routine.
My fans, reporters, cyber wreckers, and plain old rubberneckers—the whole mountain looked like it was hosting a festival.
I made my way through the crowd with Cheonma, wearing a tired face.
I did plan on holding a press conference, at least. Korea was all I had left now. Keeping public opinion on my side was non-negotiable.
Then a familiar face caught my eye.
In an instant, the fatigue vanished. Sparks flared behind my eyes. My combat readiness shot through the roof.
And for good reason.
I had just spotted Park Jincheon of the Superhuman Research Institute.
What's he doing here?
If he was a cyber wrecker, he should have been home fabricating slander like usual. Why he'd dragged himself all the way out here was beyond me.
Still, the sight of him jolted me wide awake. That much, at least, was a silver lining.
I'd been staring a little too long, though.
Our eyes met.
He dipped his head toward me in a polite little bow.
Pure performance, of course. But there were too many eyes watching. I gave him a slight nod in return.
My heart was hammering. Given half a chance, I would have loved nothing more than to beat the living daylights out of him with my bare fists.
But a superhuman assaulting a civilian was a serious felony.
Even martial artists with black belts got enhanced sentencing for hitting ordinary people.
A superhuman doing the same?
The punishment would be far worse—and social burial would follow right behind it.
I'm sending you straight to hell. Mark my words.
That didn't mean I had no way to hit him.
Just like I'd done to Geum Seongho last time—I simply had to ruin his entire life.
Either way, the anger had my condition peaking. That was a welcome side effect.
And in that state, the press conference began.
“Moon Dokyeong from Dawn Journal! Are you planning to clear the dungeon alone again today, without Cheonma?”
“Yes. As long as it isn't too dangerous, I intend to handle it myself. I can't get stronger if I lean on Cheonma for everything.”
“Ah…”
“Oh!”
They seemed to like that answer. A good number of reporters were scribbling away with approving faces.
Park Jincheon of the Superhuman Research Institute was among them, writing just as diligently.
Maybe it was because real journalists filled the crowd.
The usual arrogance was nowhere to be found on him. No matter how well a cyber wrecker was doing, he still seemed to shrink in front of actual reporters.
“All right. Next question.”
At my words, every reporter's hand shot up—including Park Jincheon's.
Our eyes met for a moment.
I smiled at him. A deliberately kind smile.
His mouth curled upward at the sight of it. The second he saw my smile, he dropped his hand and opened his mouth at once—
As if I'd already chosen him.
“Thank you. From the Superhuman Research Insti—”
But I was faster.
“The woman in the blue knit sweater.”
“Ah! Go Eunchae from Cheongun Times! I was wondering whether your dungeon-clearing schedule might be a bit too aggressive…”
Several reporters turned to look at Park Jincheon.
The message in their eyes was unmistakable: Who do you think you are, opening your mouth?
His face went red. He looked thoroughly humiliated.
I watched with quiet satisfaction.
Not a chance.
I had zero intention of hearing whatever question he wanted to ask. It was guaranteed to be some reeking, worthless piece of bait.
“Well, I'm aware that clearing a dungeon once a week is a pretty brutal schedule. But I want to climb the higher floors as fast as possible. I want the world to know that Korea doesn't lag behind any other superhuman powerhouse.”
“Oh!”
“That's Kim Sinhyeok for you.”
“Hell yeah!”
That answer had landed well. A little patriotic fire was exactly the kind of line the reporters had been hoping for.
“All right. One last question.”
Hands shot up again. Park Jincheon of the Superhuman Research Institute raised his too.
Somehow, our eyes met once more.
I smiled at him again.
His face lit up. He dropped his hand and opened his mouth.
“Park Jincheon of the Superhuman Research—”
I didn't pick him this time either. I'd only smiled because the look on his face was funny.
“The gentleman right in front, black jacket.”
“Ah! Thank you. Kang Yuseong from A24 News. I was wondering…”
“Pfft.”
“What?”
“A wrecker, and he thinks he can jump the line?”
The moment Park Jincheon opened his mouth again, snickers rose from every direction. His face turned a deep, furious red.
He looked genuinely enraged. He glared daggers at me—angry at me for a misunderstanding he'd cooked up entirely on his own. It was an ugly sight.
I stayed perfectly calm.
And what exactly are you going to do about it?
Upload another hit piece on me, that was all. And that would only be another step on his own road to ruin.
“Hmm, that's a good point. So you're saying that since I've come this far, I should keep pushing without a single retreat?”
“Yes! You already cleared the Temple of Silence, which everyone said was impossible. At this point, you should just steamroll the dungeons and set a new record!”
“I like that idea. I'll give it a shot.”
“Ah! Thank you!”
Staying on good terms with the real reporters was important, so I made a point of being extra warm with them.
But a cyber wrecker?
No need whatsoever. Needling Park Jincheon had been half the fun.
My mood had improved considerably.
Probably from dunking on him. Dopamine was flooding my system so hard I couldn't feel tired at all.
“All right. Time to head into the dungeon.”
“Hoping for great results!”
“Kim Sinhyeok, fighting—!”
“God Sinhyeok! We're counting on you!”
I headed for the dungeon under a wave of cheers.
I felt fantastic. Like I could fly. At this rate, clearing the next dungeon would be a breeze.
…Or so I'd thought. What a fool I was.
“Are you kidding me?! Why did it have to be the Stairway to Heaven?!”
Of all the dungeons I could have drawn, I'd landed the nasty one.
The scenery itself was gorgeous, though.
Right nearby stood a stele marked with a [3]. Beyond it, a blue-green meadow stretched out in every direction—peaceful as a painting.
And rising from the center of that field was a massive staircase glowing gold.
It was so tall I had to tip my head all the way back just to take it in.
“The Stairway to Heaven? How do you clear that?”
Cheonma's voice came from beside me. I gave her a quick rundown.
“You climb all the way to the top and ring the golden bell up there.”
“That doesn't sound hard.”
“Yeah, except climbing those stairs is absolute hell.”
“Hm?”
There were a thousand steps in total.
Even a thousand ordinary stairs would be exhausting.
These were anything but ordinary.
“Every step you take drains a fixed portion of your energy—stamina included.”
“Energy?”
“Yeah. Stamina, inner force, physical strength—basically every kind of energy a human has gets shaved down by a set percentage with each step. By the time you reach the top, you've burned through almost all of it.”
It didn't matter how strong or durable you were. The stronger you were, the more energy each individual step consumed.
Even Cheonma was no exception.
She'd probably burn through more energy per step than anyone else.
“…Still sounds easy enough.”
“No, it's completely different when you actually try it! Superhumans don't just give up the second they draw this dungeon for no reason!”
Reaching the top left you with only the barest sliver of energy—right on the edge of blacking out.
Humans considered an eighty-percent energy drain a state of severe exhaustion.
This place forced you past ninety-nine percent. That was a level of agony no ordinary person could endure.
“Hmm. Is that so?”
“I'm telling you, it is!”
“So will you give up, then?”
“That's…”
I'd made a declaration right before entering the dungeon.
No retreats. Full steam ahead.
And then I was supposed to quit the second I walked in?
I'd never be able to show my face again.
“Ahem. Let's circulate our energy first, at least.”
“Understood.”
Even if I did end up quitting, dragging it out a little first would look better.
I settled into a cross-legged seat and began circulating my inner force.
Oh!
Same as last time. Just like in the Zombie Kingdom, thick, dense qi poured into my body.
This is it!
I sank straight into cultivation.
Something electric ran through me—a pleasure I never felt in ordinary training wrapped around my whole body.
How much time passed like that?
I opened my eyes.
Nothing around me had changed. The golden staircase still filled my vision.
But a check of my phone told me roughly ten hours had gone by.
I rose to my feet, feeling full and charged.
My inner force had advanced another solid step. Training on Earth simply couldn't compare.
Before long, Cheonma opened her eyes as well.
“…What a strange place. The qi is incredibly dense.”
“Hm? Denser than the Murim world you came from?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
I'd always assumed Earth was uniquely barren of qi. Apparently every world held a different amount.
“Dungeon qi, in particular, pairs extremely well with demonic arts.”
“Demonic arts? Why?”
“The mana saturating the dungeon is quite similar to demonic qi, I believe.”
“Oh!”
That was genuinely useful information.
“So if you practice demonic arts, you can last longer inside dungeons?”
“Most likely, yes.”
“That's huge.”
Other superhumans maxed out at two days. But with demonic arts, you could push further. That was a massive advantage.
“Ah—but the Dansin-gyeol you've learned is steeped in the nature of the Orthodox Path. So for you, it probably won't make much difference.”
“Is that right? Shame.”
Part of me wanted to stay here for days and do nothing but cultivate. Unfortunately, that didn't seem viable.
“More importantly—what will you do? Are you giving up?”
Cheonma asked, gazing at the golden stairs.
I looked at them too, lost in thought for a moment.
If I say I'm quitting, she'll lose it, won't she?
It was obvious.
She'd start spouting lines like “There is no such word as 'surrender' in the Heavenly Demon's dictionary!” and drag me up those stairs by force. This was a test, plain and simple.
I forced myself to shake my head. Even if I couldn't make the top, I at least needed to look like I was trying.
“No. I'm going to try.”
“A wise decision.”
Cheonma turned to me with a soft, bright smile.
It was a lovely smile.
And somehow, looking at it sent a chill down my spine.
If I'd actually said I was quitting, I'd have been in serious trouble.
That was the feeling I got.
Either way, giving up without even trying looked terrible. My plan was to climb to at least the eight-hundredth step—whether I made it or not.