Chapter 116
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 116
Chapter Title: Farewell.
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'What a damn mess this is.'
Yeah, let's admit it.
Honestly, Wang Gi-neung had let his guard down.
In fact, it was a situation where he couldn't help but relax.
The relief of having perfectly subdued Ryu Gang-cheol, the joy of being able to protect his family now, and even the worries about what lay ahead.
All of it had combined to leave Wang Gi-neung so exhilarated that he couldn't maintain his tension.
That was why.
He'd exposed his back to the sudden ambusher who popped out of nowhere.
'If I hadn't hesitated back then, I wouldn't be in this mess.'
True to his status as a top-tier expert, Wang Gi-neung had instinctively twisted his body and counterattacked just before the knife could pierce his back.
But there was one problem.
He'd frozen for a split second upon realizing the attacker was another Ryu Gang-cheol—one who looked exactly like the one he'd subdued.
That was the mistake.
That hesitation allowed the subsequent Ryu Gang-cheol Nos. 3, 4, and 5 to land their ambushes.
And this was the result.
A nightmare where he was surrounded by eight Ryu Gang-cheols, his life hanging by a thread amid a pile of over half a dozen Ryu Gang-cheol corpses already stacked up.
'I was the idiot for letting my guard down.'
He wasn't some novice who'd just learned martial arts.
A top-tier expert like him had grown careless in front of the enemy, blabbering on hesitantly, and gotten ambushed.
He wouldn't have had any grounds to complain even if he'd died right then.
But instead of raging in shame, Wang Gi-neung asked quietly.
"Just gotta ask outta pure curiosity... What the hell kinda trick is this?"
"Trick? What trick?"
"Just believe what ya see."
"Ya don't even know about the Hell of Disbelief?"
Ryu Gang-cheols Nos. 10, 11, and 12 grinned as they took turns speaking.
Wang Gi-neung narrowed his eyes, confirming from their attitudes—not their words—that this wasn't some illusion or mental skill.
"So, in other words, some kinda clone skill?"
"Eh, close enough."
"Yeah, it's sorta like a clone skill, sure."
They didn't even bother hiding it anymore.
Watching the Ryu Gang-cheols readily affirm it, Wang Gi-neung narrowed his eyes further.
"Never heard of any duke-level player who could pull off somethin' like this."
Half-Clone, Clone Art, and such.
Skills that created clones weren't all that rare, but most were just convincing phantoms or weak punching bags inferior to the original.
But clones that could wield combat power equal to the main body—and multiple of them?
There was only one answer.
"Of course. This here's my unique skill."
"Figured as much."
Wang Gi-neung scowled at the answer—exactly what he'd expected but didn't want to hear.
Unlike general or rare skills, players with unique skills—ones only one person in the world could possess—were threats even at low levels.
And if that player was a ghost from the Liberation Brigade? No need to explain further.
"A duke-level player with a unique skill... Why the hell you wastin' it on crap like this?"
"Aw, don't say that. No such thing as high or low professions, ya know?"
"Killin' ain't a profession."
"Soldier or merc—either way, ya kill folks to make a livin', right?"
They all grinned.
All eight Ryu Gang-cheols laughing in unison.
Watching that, Wang Gi-neung finally understood completely.
Regardless of whether he was a Liberation Brigade ghost or not, Ryu Gang-cheol was a straight-up murderer who'd been killing people somewhere along the line.
'In the end, the Sword Duke was right.'
And one more thing.
Rimon's judgment that screw the interrogation—he should've just killed Ryu Gang-cheol outright.
The Ryu Gang-cheol he'd captured and tortured before was probably just one disposable clone anyway.
To gain something that worthless, he'd stabbed Rimon in the back—and now his family was on the brink of ruin because of it.
It was so absurd it felt like qi deviation.
But Ryu Gang-cheol had no intention of letting Wang Gi-neung die so easily.
"Alright, let's get this started."
"Where should we slice first?"
"I'll make sure to stab ya a hundred times nice and slow before finishin' ya off."
Like hyenas circling a wounded lion.
The eight Ryu Gang-cheols twisted their lips in delight, readjusting their grips on their knives.
Watching them, Wang Gi-neung ground his teeth.
He was definitely stronger than Ryu Gang-cheol.
But that was only when there was just one of him—and when that one was in perfect condition.
Eight duke-level players.
Ones who breathed in perfect sync, feared no death, and whose numbers swelled to replace any that fell.
Fighting them? It was just a matter of how long he could hold out.
Unless he got lucky and took out the main body, his defeat was sealed.
"Don't get cocky just 'cause of numbers."
Thud, clatter.
Even so, Wang Gi-neung channeled his psychonic energy, forcing out the knives embedded in his body and staunching the wounds.
He couldn't abandon the fight over a crisis this minor—not if he wanted to call himself a warrior.
Besides, he still had reason to hold out, even in this situation. A real shot at victory.
"Emergency signal's already out. If I just hold till reinforcements arrive, I win."
Wang Gi-neung's eyes flashed.
Before sensing the presence and coming out.
He'd hit the hidden emergency button on his desk to signal the crisis.
Of course, Black Dragon Construction wasn't subscribed to the Guardian system, so no help from Leviathan.
But if the Shanghai Wang family's enforcers showed up...? No, even without them, sufficient backup would let him escape.
And at that moment.
All eight Ryu Gang-cheols burst into laughter.
"Puhahaha!"
"Countin' on reinforcements?"
"That's a good idea, though."
"How many of yer pals ya think got the luxury to come runnin' when ya call?"
"What do you...?"
Wang Gi-neung's brow furrowed briefly.
Then a chill ran down his spine.
The moment he saw the identical cold sneers on all eight faces, a bolt of realization struck his mind.
"...No way?"
Wang Gi-neung denied it.
No way that could happen.
Even unique skills had limits.
What he was imagining was impossible.
Scoffs at his common sense, Ryu Gang-cheol wore a meaningful smile.
"Ya think I'm only hittin' this one spot?"
Kaboom!
"Guhk!"
A one-eyed youth in warrior robes bounced around like a ping-pong ball, toppling a cluster of mannequins as he crashed down.
Sherung rolled reflexively.
Clang!
A knife thudded into the floor right after.
A hair slower, and it would've pierced his skull clean through.
But Sherung felt no relief at dodging death.
He staggered to his feet, gripping his spear tightly in both hands and aiming it at the enemy.
"Didn't expect that, eh?"
Thud, thud. The pursuing attacker approached.
The beady-eyed youth—Ryu Gang-cheol—bent down casually in front of Sherung and yanked the knife from the floor.
Then he spun it effortlessly in his hand and spoke nonchalantly.
"Figured after losin' one eye, ya'd be scared of losin' the other and tuck tail runnin'. Why ya still holdin' out?"
"Ya think a Black Dragon Clan warrior would run scared from trash like you?!"
"For someone talkin' big, ain't yer crew a bit short-handed?"
"Hmph! Just ditched the useless baggage early."
Sherung shouted sharply.
The moment he'd confirmed Ryu Gang-cheol attacking Cheonhwa Department Store again.
His first move: Let the night guards flee to call for backup.
Most of the remaining guards were the ones who'd bolted last time anyway.
Forcing them to fight would've just been a hindrance.
He regretted not bolstering with fresh warriors beforehand, given the clan's chaotic state.
"If yer hopin' for backup, give it up. Ain't just here that's goin' to hell."
"I know that!"
"Hm? Then ya just tryin' to die here?"
At those words.
Sherung's forehead vein bulged.
Truth was, he had his reasons.
A guard captain fleeing without a fight? That'd kill any chance of promotion as a warrior.
Sherung, with ambitions to rise and get revenge on Wei Ling, couldn't stomach dying without trying.
So he'd chosen.
To fight—but a delaying action.
In short: Run, but only inside the store, buying time.
That's why he'd sent the warriors away. Couldn't have his subordinates see their captain scampering like a rat.
It'd worked at first.
He was an elite Black Dragon warrior, after all.
Plus, they'd reinforced security and formations since the last attack. When he focused on evasion, he could drag it out.
One problem.
No reinforcements, no matter how long he waited.
Only after hearing Ryu Gang-cheol's taunt did he grasp why. His heart sank in despair.
'Attacking every affiliate solo? You crazy bastards!!!'
Yeah.
Right now, it wasn't just Wang Gi-neung and Sherung fighting Ryu Gang-cheol.
From core affiliates like Black Dragon Construction and Cheonhwa Department Store to smaller subsidiaries.
Every Black Dragon Clan affiliate in the capital region was under simultaneous assault by dozens of Ryu Gang-cheol clones.
'What kinda bullshit is this...!'
Ryu Gang-cheol was duke-level.
A threat even alone.
Last time at Cheonhwa, he'd swept through Sherung and the guards single-handedly.
Now dozens of him ransacking affiliates?
Sherung, who'd played politics instead of fighting like a true warrior, was left flabbergasted—heading straight to doom.
And now taking mockery from Ryu Gang-cheol on top.
Finally snapping, Sherung bellowed.
"Fine! I'm just here to die! Happy?!"
"Wasn't askin' with any motive."
"Then shut yer trap, ya punk!"
"...Yer speech got real cheap alluva sudden, huh?"
"I'm about to croak—ya expect pretty words, ya moron?!"
Sherung's eyes rolled back as he roared.
Ryu Gang-cheol looked taken aback for a moment, then smirked.
"Alright. Considerin' yer grudge, I'll skip the fun and send ya off quick and painless."
The games were over.
As Ryu Gang-cheol advanced with his knife reversed, Sherung gritted his teeth.
Cornered, he had no place left to run, no stamina, no hope.
'Damn it, never should've trusted that Guardian system crap.'
If he'd known, he'd have rejected it to the end and kept his pride.
Recalling how he'd swallowed humiliation and signed Wei Ling's contract as insurance, Sherung ground his teeth.
'Damn you, Sword Duke! Chao Wei-ling!'
Oblivious to his thoughts, Ryu Gang-cheol admired Sherung's killing intent and swung his knife.
"Then farewell, pal."