The Secret Line and Its Master (1)

Even a cursory glance revealed that Blood Knowledge stood apart from standard Ancient Knowledge. It arrived fully realized from the moment of acquisition.

Because its underlying premise was the direct inheritance of a bloodline, the recipient unlocked complete, mature abilities right from the start. Blood Knowledge was as exceedingly difficult to acquire as Legendary-grade items. Considering that Sanghyuk had slaughtered countless Green Wyvern Lords in his previous life without ever seeing a single drop of Wyvern Blood, its drop rate was laughably miniscule.

Wyvern Blood... It's certainly not bad. In fact, at this stage of the game, finding anything better would be nearly impossible. But it's not what I need. True, I kept an empty Soul Hole reserved for Blood Knowledge, but the specific bloodline I'm aiming for is entirely different.

The Blood Knowledge Sanghyuk set his sights on was not yet within reach.

Absorbing Wyvern Blood would provide an overwhelming power spike right now. But viewed in the long term, it's a net loss. Sticking to the plan is the right move.

Sanghyuk looked far into the future of the game. Rather than grasping at immediate gratification, he chose to patiently trace out the master design he had envisioned from the very beginning.

Besides, this can be traded, so I lose nothing. In fact, if I put this on the market right now... it might set off an absolute frenzy.

At this point, the broader player base had no idea that Blood Knowledge even existed. If Wyvern Blood was unveiled under these circumstances, every eye across the entire game would fixate on it.

I'll need to think carefully about how and when to liquidate it.

It was not an item that required an urgent fire sale. Sorting through his options and selling it with deliberate timing would yield the greatest return.

After depositing the Wyvern Blood into his virtual bank vault, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Sanghyuk inspected the Emerald Ring he had received as a quest reward. In EL, accessories were notoriously scarce, making any completed accessory dropped by a monster a stroke of genuine fortune.

Not bad at all.

Sanghyuk nodded in satisfaction and slipped the ring onto his finger. An item like this offered far more utility on his own hand than sold off for pocket money. As for the rest of his spoils, they were fairly ordinary items. He organized them into bundles and listed them on the consignment market, using the incoming funds to sweep up underpriced crafting materials.

With his inventory organized, Sanghyuk made his way toward the liveliest gathering spot in Falcon City: the Twilight Inn.

The Twilight Inn was a tavern of colossal proportions. Because EL held commercial product-placement contracts for real-world liquor and beverages, patrons could order nearly every drink and vintage that existed on Earth. Moreover, an NPC master chef presided over the kitchen, capable of preparing thousands of international delicacies without missing a single culinary tradition.

Captivated by these flavors, many players threw themselves entirely into the cooking system. In time, a select few would surpass even the NPC master chef, earning fame and fortune that outshone world-renowned celebrity chefs on Earth.

Each tavern table was also equipped with a built-in tablet PC capable of basic web browsing. It was a unique convenience unavailable anywhere else in the virtual world.

Offering delicious cuisine, a limitless selection of drinks, and easy access to global internet searches, the establishment inevitably drew legions of travelers, naturally establishing itself as Falcon City's premier social crossroads.

Score upon score of players sat around the dining hall, letting looping speech-bubble macros hover over their heads while recruiting party members. Shouting manually was tedious, so most simply let their macros run while eating meals or surfing the web.

Sanghyuk had not come here seeking a party. He slipped into an empty booth, ordered a simple meal alongside a cold beverage, and booted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up the tablet to browse recent forum posts. Having spent days secluded within the Wyvern's Nest hunting nonstop, he was completely out of touch with recent developments across EL.

At the end of the day, EL was not a single-player sandbox, but a living ecosystem interwoven with countless individuals. Excelling on one's own was not enough; one had to maintain keen awareness of what the rest of the world was doing.

Huh. The guild that claimed the world-first clear of the Sewer Dungeon wasn't Terriculum or Rising... it was RED Line? Did my actions alter the timeline? No, that doesn't seem likely. In any case, that means Red Sun took Harkan's Iron Wall Shield.

Red Sun was the guildmaster of RED Line and a future first-generation pro gamer. While his mechanical skill was respectable, he had never quite reached the absolute pinnacle of the competitive scene.

The Snake Cave turned into a complete bloodbath just as expected, and... wait.

Scrolling through the trending community threads, Sanghyuk froze.

Damn it. No matter how I look at this, that chain quest leads straight to locating the Wyvern's Nest... and they're almost done with it?

Unfortunately, the exact scenario he had hoped to delay was fast approaching.

Hmm. A week... ten days at the very most before the Wyvern's Nest is blown wide open to the public.

If only the quest-takers were showing up, it would hardly matter. The Wyvern's Nest was vast; ceding a few outlying crags to newcomer parties was no hardship. But high-difficulty hunting grounds with lucrative payouts were impossible to keep under wraps for long. With high-tier hunting zones growing painfully scarce across the beginner zones, players would inevitably swarm the peaks en masse.

I have one week left. I need to squeeze every last drop of value out of that place before it's ruined.

Sanghyuk spent another thirty minutes skimming market prices and guild movements before rising from his seat. He had another pressing errand to attend to, but wringing the final drops of profit from the Wyvern's Nest took priority.

Exactly nine days passed.

Nine days later, a five-man party emerged at the entrance of the Wyvern's Nest, their faces beaming as if they had just stumbled upon an undiscovered paradise.

"Whoa... I can't believe there was a hunting ground hidden in a place like this..."

"You can tell at a glance it's high-level. We'll have to get closer and use Inspect to be sure, but those wyverns flying in the distance... they're definitely high-tier monsters."

"The tougher they are, the better the loot! Wait, does that mean all that wyvern leather, teeth, and claws selling for obscene prices on the auction house came from here? Hold on... does that mean we aren't the first ones to find this place?"

"Wait, what? Seriously? After we suffered through that hellish twenty-two-part chain quest?!"

"Ugh, I'm getting chills..."

"And we only cleared it this fast because the guild funneled all its resources into backing us. Other parties are still bashing their heads against the earlier steps. What guild could have possibly beaten us here?"

They had stumbled upon a significant—and chilling—revelation. Yet by the time they pieced the truth together, Sanghyuk was already descending along a vine on the far side of the precipice, vanishing into the clouds below.

There's no reason to reveal myself just yet. Losing an exclusive hunting ground stings, but I've already squeezed the bulk of the profit out of it. Besides, I have several crucial matters to settle before leaving the Twilight Lands, so walking away now is the cleanest choice.

Rumors that a lone player was effortlessly butchering high-level wyverns single-handedly were the last thing Sanghyuk wanted circulating. He had no intention of concealing his identity forever, but while he remained within the Twilight Lands, keeping a low profile suited his purposes. Once he broke through the barrier into the vast continent ahead of everyone else, he could roam entirely uninhibited.

Returning to Falcon City, Sanghyuk flooded the local market with his stockpiled wyvern hides, claws, and fangs, pricing them slightly below the going rate. In truth, he had already begun quietly offloading supply over the past several days.

Because wyvern materials had suffered from severe scarcity, his listings vanished almost the instant they hit the auction boards. In this manner, he liquidated virtually his entire reserve before the market could react.

Once the big guilds muster full-scale hunting parties and set up camp, prices will plummet.

With his inventory cleared, Sanghyuk initiated preparations for his final and most formidable objective within the Twilight Lands.

Even with the memories of a regressor, success was far from certain. In his past life, no one had ever dared attempt this particular feat, making it impossible to predict whether he would succeed or fail disastrously.

First, Sanghyuk sought out Tokan, a figure with whom he shared high rapport and who commanded tremendous clandestine influence within Falcon City. Given the fragmentary nature of his future knowledge, leveraging key NPCs was the only viable method to uncover the missing pieces.

"Hmph... The 'Master of Horseless Words'?" Tokan grunted, pondering the name for a long moment before shaking his head. "Never heard of it. That moniker is completely foreign to my ears."

If Tokan—who ranked among the top three most influential NPCs residing incognito within Falcon City—knew nothing of it, tracking the target down would not be easy.

"Wait! Don't look so crestfallen, lad. Go seek out Baize. That bookish eccentric might know something."

Baize the Inquirer. Sanghyuk had intended to consult him next if Tokan came up empty.

"Understood. I will ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠do that."

Offering a polite bow of gratitude, Sanghyuk turned toward Baize's research laboratory.

Fortunately, thanks to Tokan's initial introduction and his progress in Spirit Arts, Sanghyuk had built sufficient rapport with Baize to secure direct access without needing a fresh letter of recommendation.

While not quite on Tokan's level of secrecy, Baize was not an NPC whom ordinary players could simply walk up and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠converse with. Because his laboratory served as an intersection for several vital high-tier questlines, countless players hovered outside his doorstep, desperate for an audience.

As Sanghyuk strolled past the cordon and opened the door without hesitation, the players milling outside stared in disbelief.

"Wh-what the hell? Did that guy just walk right in without a recommendation letter?"

"Did anyone catch his face? Was that a player?"

"He had a deep hood pulled over his head, so I couldn't see, but his movements were definitely those of a player."

"Damn it all! I've been running errand loops for three days just trying to get through that damn door! This is ridiculous!"

"I'm waiting right here until he walks out. I'm going to ask him how he raised Baize's affinity."

"Look at this naive guy. You really think he'll just hand over secret information? You'd have better luck posting a bounty on the community forums."

"Is there even a known method to farm affinity with Baize? Getting a basic letter of recommendation was hard enough."

"Someone told me recommendation letters have tiers, and low-grade letters won't even grant you an audience."

"Unbelievable. What a pain-in-the-ass NPC."

While the crowd outside bickered and speculated, Sanghyuk was already seated across from Baize in private consultation.

"The Master of Horseless Words, you say..." Baize murmured, studying him closely.

"Yes. I wish to meet him."

"Why do you seek an audience with him?" Baize's scholarly gaze hardened, turning exceptionally grave.

"Because there is something I must prove to him."

This was the critical juncture. Every word Sanghyuk prepared to utter was an extrapolation—a hypothesis spun from fragments of classified intelligence he had overheard in his former life. If his deductions struck the right chord, events would flow precisely according to his design. If he miscalculated, he would be thrown out without ever catching a glimpse of his objective.

"Prove? Prove what?"

The instant Baize pressed for an answer, Sanghyuk caught the subtle tremor beneath the scholar's measured tone.

He's definitely involved!

Engaging in a tense battle of wits with an NPC felt surreal, yet Sanghyuk knew this was the exact moment to push all his chips into the center of the table.

"The throne of the Master of the Secret Line sits vacant," Sanghyuk said, his voice ringing with absolute certainty. "I intend to prove that I am worthy of claiming it."

The explosive declaration had been made. All that remained was to watch the shockwave detonate.