The Nine Ranks of Shamanism
2nd Class — Those who have just awakened to the existence of spiritual power.
1st Class — Shamans who can store and manipulate spiritual power within their dantian.
Special Class — Those at the limit of human capability, able to cast lethal curses and control special-class spirits.
Spirit Class — Those who have transcended human limits, where the spirit precedes the physical body.
Thousand Shudders — Disaster-class entities whose very existence is a calamity; their names are taboo.
Thousand Armors — Immune to all forms of curses; often referred to as celestial immortals.
Absolute Class — Entities capable of severing causality and fate; erased from official records.
Underworld Class — Beings belonging entirely to the realm of the dead.
Source Class — The absolute origin of all shamanic phenomena; no individual has ever officially reached this rank.
“Yes. This is Kang Suho.”
“……Kang Suho. No, Teacher Kang.”
The honorific had shifted to one of extreme respect without him even realizing it.
Despite his wife’s attempts to stop him, Nam Gyuho got out of bed, leaned on the IV stand for support, and bowed deeply at the waist.
The person on the other end of the phone couldn’t see it, but it was an instinctive display of courtesy toward the benefactor who had saved his life—something carved into his very bones.
“Is your body feeling any better? You really should be resting properly.”
“I found out you saved me twice, Teacher. I also realized that the headache I had before was actually killing intent.”
“You’re incredibly lucky, Detective. Surviving a first-class vengeful spirit and then a special-class one created through Gu Poison is all thanks to your upright mental fortitude.”
“I know I should thank you in person, but I called urgently because there’s something I need to ask.”
“What is it?”
The reason Nam Gyuho had called was Zhang Chen.
“The man who vomited blood right before I collapsed—was that Zhang Chen?”
A brief silence stretched across the line.
Then Kang Suho’s voice rang out.
“……Zhang Chen escaped.”
Nam Gyuho clenched his fist tightly.
The man who had vomited blood during the exorcism was Zhang Chen.
The target he had wanted to capture had instead tried to kill him. A chill ran down his spine.
And it had happened right in front of him…
“I see. You’ve saved my life twice now. From the bottom of my heart… I thank you with everything I have. I will never forget this debt for as long as I live.”
Silence fell over the line for a moment.
Soon the click of a lighter was heard, followed by the sound of smoke being exhaled.
“No need for thanks. I just sent you a text. It looks like the criminal complex where my mother is being held.”
“Huh? Yes?”
“It seems a war is breaking out there right now. I need you to check it for me.”
“Understood. Please don’t hang up. Just wait a moment…”
Nam Gyuho quickly checked the message.
It pointed to a logistics complex on the outskirts of Phnom Penh, Cambodia—the same place he had visited for an inquiry before and found nothing suspicious. It had been clean on paper, too.
“You’re saying Woo Minjung is imprisoned there?”
“Yes. There’s a shootout happening at that location right now. Please verify it through local channels.”
“You can detect a shootout through shamanism?”
“……”
Nam Gyuho was genuinely startled.
He immediately powered on his laptop and began making inquiries about the shootout at that location through the hotline.
At the same time, he swallowed hard, fingers pressing firmly against the keyboard.
If he could borrow Kang Suho’s power…
If the man who surpassed even Special Class shamans would help the special forces…
Nam Gyuho squeezed his eyes shut and spoke. It was a nothing-to-lose kind of gamble.
“Could you join our special team in the capacity of a civilian advisor? We do have a 1st Class shaman assigned to the team, but these people aren’t ordinary criminals. If the ones who sent that horrific curse after me are tied to the masterminds in Cambodia… our police force alone may not be able to handle their shamanic terrorism. Your power, Teacher… we desperately need it.”
Nam Gyuho was desperate.
This was a prayer born of necessity—to confront the colossal evil cartel that mercilessly kidnapped and trampled Korean citizens, to recruit a Special Class shaman capable of blocking killing intent.
A moment later, Kang Suho’s dry voice came through.
“Fine. I’ll join. I’ll get my passport ready.”
“Thank you! Really… thank you so much. I’ll contact you again the moment I confirm the shootout details.”
Nam Gyuho proudly showed his wife the goosebumps rising on his arm.
The addition of a Special Class shaman was that astonishing.
“Please share the schedule once it’s set.”
“Yes. There will be a departure ceremony and briefing soon. It would be an honor if you could attend. Teacher!”
“I’ll be there, of course.”
“Thank you, Teacher!”
The moment the call ended, Nam Gyuho threw two joyful uppercuts into the empty air.
“……Honey.”
His worried wife looked at him with deep confusion and concern, but the smile on Nam Gyuho’s face refused to fade.
“I got goosebumps. The shaman who saved me has decided to help us properly.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. And he’s a Special Class shaman. You don’t have to worry anymore. He’s already saved me twice. He’s the one who rescued me when the Heavenly Centipede was draining my life force.”
“……Heavenly Centipede?? I don’t really know what that is.”
Detective Nam Gyuho, who had been about to describe the giant, grotesque centipede, simply pursed his lips.
“Ah, my pretty wife doesn’t need to know about stuff like that!!”
He grabbed her cheeks and squeezed them until her lips puckered out, then planted a playful kiss on them and pulled her into a tight hug.
“Honey. We have to invite him over sometime. Since he saved your husband, I’ll prepare a full twelve-dish Korean feast to thank him properly!”
“Should we? Sounds good! My wife’s cooking is the best in the world, after all!”
“I mean it. You have to bring him, okay~”
But he failed to notice the way his wife’s eyes grew quiet and still.
I sank deep into the sofa after ending the call with Detective Nam Gyuho.
I stared at the ceiling and exhaled a light stream of cigarette smoke.
“So we’re going to Cambodia…”
Detective Nam Gyuho’s call had solidified my decision.
I was curious about Woo Minjung’s fate, but digging out the origin of the conspiracy was far more important.
Either way, moving with Nam Gyuho’s special team would let me act safely.
“Special team advisor, huh…”
This was the best scenario available to me right now.
A criminal complex disguised as a logistics hub in Takeo Province near Phnom Penh, Cambodia.
A massive conspiracy to devour the Samjung Group by turning our family into sacrifices for the Half-Human Half-Shikigami technique.
I would repay the sin of murdering my father with blood without fail.
Samjung Group’s Chief of Staff, Park Taejun.
I pulled up his face again through a search.
And through the articles I discovered some interesting information.
“Samjung’s recruited Shaman No. 2 Executive?”
Before joining Samjung ten years ago, Park Taejun had been a fairly well-known shaman in Apgujeong.
Many famous figures from politics and business visited him. Samjung had scouted him from that position.
“If he’s Shaman No. 2, then who the hell is Shaman No. 1?”
I searched further, but no information appeared about any other shamans scouted by Samjung.
“It means the shaman protecting Chairman Kang Rokgi is stronger than Park Taejun.”
Otherwise there would be no reason for him to cover his tracks so thoroughly and take such a roundabout path.
Or perhaps Chairman Kang Rokgi was already aware of Park Taejun’s ambitions.
“This is getting interesting.”
Jang Junpyo, who assisted Park Taejun, and the Triads.
“Park Taejun… your greatest mistake was touching me.”
To suck out my essence and turn me into a shikigami, you threw Minah as bait—laden with the killing intent of ejaculation extraction.
Simply defending myself would never end this.
In a hunt, the first strike is everything.
And then there was Zhang Chen, the Wudang Sect’s Grand Master…
He had bowed and called me his benefactor, but I still didn’t know whether he could truly be trusted.
Since I had removed the Triads’ parasite curse that bound him…
“……At the very least, he won’t stand in my way.”
I tapped the sofa armrest with my finger and spoke quietly.
“Hey, Mongsil.”
Srrrk—
The hair on the crown of my head rustled, and a fluffy bundle of fur slid down my forehead before gently settling on the bridge of my nose.
Its eight black eyes sparkled as it looked up at me.
‘Did you call, my great, cruel, and overwhelmingly powerful master?’
This little shit. His flattery game had improved.
“Did you finish treating Minah?”
‘Yes.’
As expected of a Spirit Class spirit beast.
“Teach me some shaman techniques.”
‘Yes? My techniques? Do spider webs come out of your anus by any chance?’
“Shut up. Anything like the offensive techniques Zhang Chen uses. Pull up whatever you remember from his memories.”
I needed to prepare actively for battles against other shamans and humans.
Mongsil might fight in my place, but that kind of passive approach didn’t suit my taste.
‘Zhang Chen possesses a talisman technique called Flying Talisman Slash, Master.’
Mongsil hopped around, then used its two little hands adorned with pom-pom bells to pull out a yellow post-it note and place it on the table.
It then engraved letters onto the paper using its own spider silk.
‘I secretly memorized Zhang Chen’s talisman technique. If he ever finds out his secrets were stolen, he’ll probably vomit blood and commit suicide. Oh yes.’
“Don’t exaggerate.”
‘Yes.’
The tiny Mongsil stood on the post-it, slowly carving out letters with its rear.
‘It should originally be written on yellow talisman paper, but this yellow note isn’t bad. The best materials would be white bone paper—made by mixing bone powder—or spirit wood paper—made from the inner bark of a thousand-year-old tree. As for the brush, at least a human-hair brush, a wild wolf-hair brush, or a fetal-hair brush made from a newborn’s hair would allow it to contain far more spiritual power.’
Mongsil drew the outline with its silk.
‘Simply infuse spiritual power along my outline, Master.’
I pulled out a Monami ballpoint pen.
I traced firm lines over the silk outline on the post-it.
Watching the pen leave clumpy ink, Mongsil scratched its head with one bell-adorned hand.
‘Even if you draw it with a ballpoint pen… there’s no way spiritual power would enter the talisman. At the very least you should use a human-hair brush…’
Eventually, a decent-looking talisman took shape before my eyes.
I had no talent for art, but I was fucking good at copying.
“So I just throw this?”
‘Yes.’
“Just throw it?”
‘Imagine the target and the exact spot you want to hit, then throw.’
I slid the window open.
Thirty meters away, a streetlight glowed brightly.
I fixed the streetlight’s bulb as my target in my mind.
Mongsil, sensing what I was about to do, grumbled through telepathy.
‘You’re aiming for that streetlight? But… there’s no way a talisman drawn with a ballpoint pen would actually work.’
Whoosh.
I threw it lightly.
Shweeeeeeeeeek!!!
The post-it flew forward, radiating light.
Then, with a sharp pop, the streetlight went dark.
‘……It works.’
I kept chuckling in disbelief.
Mongsil remained frozen, both bell-adorned hands raised above its head.
Chapter 4. Dance with Mongsil. The End.