137. We're Gonna Be Heroes.
Kuwaaaang!
"Hahaha! Come on, you bastards, stop running and fight like men!"
"Northern Peninsula scum always taste better when beaten with clubs."
"You cowardly Bangzi fucks. Hiding like pros, huh? Come out! If you don't, I'll burn your whole village to the ground!"
The Gaeryeo Alliance hunters didn't wait for a response before unleashing a barrage of skills.
The village was burning. Makeshift shacks wept black smoke in place of the evacuees who'd fled to the rear. The flames crackled softly at first, then spread with tender, insistent fingers. Heat shimmered like a mirage, warping the village landscape.
"Those goddamn pricks! Sucking down drugs like water and acting all high and mighty! Cowards who wouldn't dare come at us bare-handed!"
"Shit, our basic gear's way outmatched. Everyone, conserve your weapons! No resupply coming!"
"How the hell are we supposed to fight while babying our weapons?"
Amid the swirling smoke and scattering embers, the Prison Village hunters were steadily pushed back.
The Gaeryeo Alliance hunters, thrilled by their fleeing foes, chased leisurely while spamming skills. With the encirclement solid, there was nowhere to run anyway.
Then, someone burst through the smoke.
"Enemy?!"
"Can't even tell friend from foe?"
The man, face smeared black with soot, bore the petal emblem of the Nakwa Guild on his chest.
"What the hell are you doing here?!"
He grabbed the Gaeryeo Alliance party leader by the collar without warning.
The leader tried to shake him off, but it was like prying iron. He instantly realized this guy outranked him by a mile. His tone turned polite.
"What do you mean? We were hunting Bangzi."
"Didn't get the order from above? We're supposed to regroup at the center."
"That's where we're headed. To the old Sinuiju Prison."
"Headed? They mean the central crossroads, not that vague-ass center. Merge parties and smash through in one go."
"That's not the order I got."
"What the fuck kinda dumbass question is that? You think the center's as wide open as this spot? You know these guys fight dirty. Doesn't it strike you as weird how easy this place fell?"
"W-Well..."
"It's 'cause everyone's clustered elsewhere!"
"Ah...?"
"'Ah'? What the fuck 'ah'? You moron! What's your name? Which guild?"
"Wang Shuying. Black Dragon Clan."
"Black Dragon...? Ha! You don't even know who I am, do you?"
"No, sir."
"I don't know you either. Why? 'Cause you're a nobody. But how don't you know me? I'm a big shot. You think you've ever laid eyes on someone like me in person?"
The leader sensed something off but chalked it up to the guy's superior rank. Hunters were prickly, and higher ranks were worse—that was common knowledge. If he was in the wrong, it was 'cause he was low-rank.
"What're you waiting for, dipshit?"
"Pardon?"
"Now that you know, get your ass moving. Head to the center! What, you want me to drag you?"
"N-No, sir. We'll go right now."
As the leader flinched and rallied his team, the man called him back.
"Hold up."
"Y-Yes?"
"Where's the rest of Black Dragon Clan? Bring them too."
"I only know their rough position... I'll check."
"Check my ass. With all this fire you idiots started. Tsk! Do you even have brains? Slow as turtles and you go setting fires that block sightlines. Tell me where they are. If we're late, even I'll get chewed out by Jang Jung-shin. You'll get it too."
The leader paled at the mention of Jang Jung-shin.
One of Sinuiju's "Five Heroes," but really the top dog among Chinese hunters here in skill and influence.
He could ruin a mid-tier guild hunter's life without batting an eye.
The leader spilled the other party's location and bolted.
Once alone, the man turned and plunged into the flames. The heat warped his form like a mirage.
It shifted into the party leader who'd vanished the other way moments ago.
"Whew, exhausting. How many switches today? Interpreter gear won't even cover this."
His voice matched too. Then he vanished completely.
* * *
"Something's off. Advance is too slow. The fires?"
Overseeing the assault from outside, Jang Jung-shin kicked the dirt in irritation.
Won Ha-o, his top lieutenant and one of the Five Heroes, was tied up commanding the vanguard. No reliable hands left.
He considered jumping in but held back—needed to maintain overall command. Without bulldozing the village for sightlines, rash moves would just sow chaos.
"These cluttered shacks are a pain. Tsk!"
At least the Nakwa Guild's 1st Assault Team was pushing smoothly through the center.
Resistance was fierce, but if the flanks pressed harder, it'd collapse in a blink.
Still too slow. Are the other guilds weaker than I thought? Or are these North Korean holdouts tougher than expected? Makes sense—they're fighting for survival.
He wanted flank updates but had no messengers out yet.
Because...
"Should've squeezed more telepathy skills from up top."
Hunters lacked direct messaging skills.
Waiting passively wasn't his style. Blockages demanded brute force or cunning.
"Send a messenger to 2nd Assault. Recon and break through to rendezvous in one hour."
* * *
Kang Moo-hyuk pored over the village map from the patrol team. No Song-rin shook his head, impressed and unnerved.
What iron nerves? Or no heart at all? Explosions everywhere, even from the rear. This is razor-thin.
Unlike No Song-rin, who tensed at every boom, Kang Moo-hyuk stayed calm. Things were going to plan.
They don't even know each other's faces. Rushed coalition. Mr. Jo's mimicry can stir plenty of chaos.
Five guilds allied on paper, sand in practice.
Without ample messaging skills, parties stuck to initial orders sans face-to-face relays.
"Guildmaster Kang, Mr. Jo sent another party central. Asks about the rest."
"Left flank. Send 'em to the village's west edge. As far from center as possible."
Kang Moo-hyuk adjusted enemy party markers on the map.
No Song-rin relayed via messaging skill, then asked,
"How'd you know they lack messaging skills?"
"China's got hunters aplenty, but messaging skills are perennial shortages. Winner-takes-all culture—rarely hits market, and big guilds sweep 'em up."
Messaging skill scarcity.
China's chronic hunter plague.
Not a supply issue. Guild greed.
Majors hoarded skillbooks like martial secrets, treating acquisition as sacred rite.
Imports filled the gap.
China once bought global messaging skillbook supply. Sparked worldwide shortage. Nations, shocked, classified them strategic, halted trade.
China's stock dwindled; shortages persisted.
Kang Moo-hyuk built his plan on that intel.
"Sinuiju's a backwater to them. These hunters? Low-tier groups, disposable pawns. No investment in trash hands. Plus, elite embeds from majors have messaging—thought they'd control sans extra spend. Communication void breeds this mess. Classic greed devouring systems."
"Damn, impressive. When'd you cook that up...? Wait. Not all lack skills, right? How'd you spot the ones without?"
"Early pushback was them. Guerrilla probes tested response speed and style. Excluding Nakwa's center, sluggish reactors screamed independent calls. Avoided those for maximum disruption. Sabotaged others too."
No Song-rin broke cold sweat inwardly.
They'd been pushed to the brink once. Kang Moo-hyuk's gambit bordered insane. Non-hunter enduring blasts up close? Gutsy.
Good thing elites plugged the center in time. Slight delay...
"Ah? You clustered our elites to block their main force?"
"Tributes neutralized, now just block the spearhead. One assault team's elites match theirs. Gear and supply aside."
Ryeon Jeong-mun, Cheon Deok-su, Hwang Dong-su's crew were no pushovers. No Song-rin as backup if needed.
Stalling Nakwa's 1st Assault under Won Ha-o was Kang Moo-hyuk's top priority.
No Song-rin could only admire now.
"Always knew it, but you're the real deal, Guildmaster. We might hold till reinforcements."
"Yes. At this rate."
Kang Moo-hyuk sounded nonchalant, but tension gnawed.
Lucky they're elites. Numbers swarming all sides would be worst. Front would crumble. Hope their pride holds...
Human wave.
Pray they skipped it.
* * *
The old Sinuiju Prison grounds brimmed with people for the first time in ages.
Village center—farthest from frontlines. Concrete walls, sturdy cells made ideal shelter.
Quiet despite the crowd. Kids whimpered at distant blasts but held steady—kindergarten or elementary age by southern standards.
Some were fearless brats.
"Eek?!"
"What, Cheol-i?"
"This is No-ajusshi's!"
"No-ajusshi? Oh, No Song-rin, with Guildmaster Kang Moo-hyuk."
Park Cheol-i, soothing peers while patrolling the building, spotted No Song-rin's karambit knife in a confiscated box at the cell entrance and freaked.
Kim Gil-young, puzzled, took the offered blade.
"Whoa, heavy for a knife. Small too."
"Hunter gear's all heavy."
Kim Gil-young swung it. Weight wobbled his torso, but it felt like awakening as a hunter.
Dreaming vengeance for his dad, his heart raced. Baseless confidence surged—he could shine given the chance.
"Hunters need weapons, right?"
"Duh."
"So No-ajusshi's struggling without his?"
"Uh... yeah?"
"Let's return it."
"No! Adults said stay put—dangerous!"
"Not fighting. Just drop it off."
"Still no..."
"Think, Cheol-i. If No-ajusshi loses 'cause no weapon, we're screwed too. Gotta win, right? No weapon, no win. What if your dad gets hurt? But if we deliver it and they win? We saved the village. Your dad safe."
Kim Gil-young idolized guardian Ryeon Jeong-mun. Park Cheol-i revered his patrol dad. Dreamed of becoming a cool patrol hunter someday.
Park Cheol-i nodded. Made sense. No fighting needed. He caved to the coaxing.
"Quick drop-off then."
"Obviously. Hurry back. Kids'll be jealous later. You and me? Heroes."
"Heroes" hooked Park Cheol-i. He grinned, grabbing the karambit.