193. Let's Decide the Strongest in the Far East.
"Why haven't they attacked at all today?"
The Russian hunters locked in fierce combat around Harbin grew uneasy when the Chinese hunters suddenly retreated like the tide pulling back—and stayed gone.
They sent out scouts to probe the city center and outskirts, but not a single Chinese hunter turned up anywhere.
The news filtered back to the Russian Hunter Alliance headquarters, then spread through the guilds.
The Char Guild, which had been keeping quiet about the raid on the Magyong Gate, didn't hide this from Kang Moo-hyuk.
"So we've taken Harbin from the Russians?"
-More like the Chinese just abandoned it.
"Abandoned it?"
-Unlike the gates at Mudanjiang or Jiamusi, the forces there were evenly matched. Then they all pulled back out of nowhere. We're still on high alert since we have no idea why.
For a moment, Kang Moo-hyuk had a hunch, but he kept it to himself.
"Thanks for the heads-up."
-I'll keep you posted from here on out.
It was a signal to resume the regular exchange of intel, as if the Kamenisky incident had never happened.
Kang Moo-hyuk had no intention of cutting ties with Vladivostok either, so he gave a positive reply.
"Korea will be pushing into Magyong soon too. Looking forward to our cooperation there."
He ended the call and pored over the Magyong map.
It was little more than a relic from when the area was still human territory.
What he was after was the geography.
'Harbin.'
He tapped the city with a finger, then drew a line straight south.
"Jilin City..."
Over 200 km south. Not a huge distance for hunters.
'The old highways linking major cities get cleared regularly at each outpost.'
No monsters to interfere, so they'd reach Jilin City in no time.
Kang Moo-hyuk grasped the meaning behind abandoning Harbin.
'Planning to pit Sim Wol against Kamenisky?'
A deathmatch between the Demon and the Reaper.
Of course, he doubted Guan Hong would let a fight whose outcome could be divined play out fairly.
They'd need extra forces to tie down Kamenisky's legs.
'Harbin's troops alone aren't enough. Against an S-rank, they're just meat shields at best.'
Which meant deploying their strongest, closest reinforcements.
"Dandong, then."
The Huanglong Guild's expedition team stationed in Dandong.
They were there to keep an eye on Sinuiju, but they wouldn't let something crucial enough to sacrifice Dandong go undefended in Jilin City—not when it warranted pulling an S-rank.
China's massive population meant plenty of hunters for Huanglong Guild, so they ran three separate expedition teams without issue.
Losing one wouldn't cripple the guild.
'On the flip side, it means whatever's in Jilin City is worth sacrificing an entire expedition team.'
Kang Moo-hyuk checked Shenyang on the map.
340 km to Jilin City.
Farther than Harbin and no straight cleared path, but nothing an S-rank couldn't handle.
"Time to move the Guild Master and the Tyrant. Take the unified raid force too."
Kamenisky boiled instant ramen in a Korean-made stainless pot and savored it. Scooping noodles onto the lid Korean-style brought out some inexplicable umami. Years of practice had made him decent with chopsticks.
"Without little pleasures like this, surviving the frozen wastes would be impossible."
Suddenly, Chinese words tumbled from his mouth. A shadow rose abruptly from the ruins lit only by the campfire. The full moon hung high, but Magyong's haze dulled its glow—even hunter eyes struggled to make out the shadow's face. It approached and replied.
"Camping? Nasty habit. Cooking up a storm where monsters swarm."
"They come running to the smell anyway—no need to hunt. Give it a try sometime, Demon. It's like fishing. More fun than you'd think."
"Don't call me that, old man."
Sim Wol hated her epithet. It dredged up memories of Namsan Island.
The hunter prison had been a nightmare before she hit S-rank—a death row sentence that dragged on forever. For the weak, it was hell on earth.
"My apologies. Age makes politeness a chore. I only meant to share the joys of angling."
"You've never even held a rod. Enough chit-chat—let's get to it. We're both busy."
"No rod needed to land a prize catch."
Kamenisky pointed at her with a grin.
"Ha? You saying I've bitten?"
"Exactly. You've swum right into the kill zone."
Before Sim Wol could snap back, Kamenisky charged.
"Ngh!"
Her crossed arms in an X blocked the impact—a heavy thud reverberated through. His punch didn't end there; dozens of straights hammered her in a blink.
Sim Wol twisted to evade, blocking what she couldn't dodge with her arms or slapping shots aside with open palms. Missed blows glanced off her evasive spins, minimizing damage.
But perfect defense was impossible. One she couldn't react to clipped her side.
Pain pierced deep, shaking her core, but she gritted her teeth and countered.
Her palm strike shoved Kamenisky back. He felt his insides churn. He retreated swiftly, gathering mana. He spat out a thick glob of bloody phlegm, condensing the swirling internal energy.
Easing his guts, he strode to the weapon rack by his tent.
Sim Wol drew a nunchaku from behind her back. She whipped it down; it fused into a single staff. She slotted the short sword from her belt onto its tip.
"Shall we see the prowess of the world's top spear master, Sim Wol?"
Kamenisky hefted a massive scythe from the rack.
The shaft ended not in a spearhead, but a blade larger than a man's torso.
"The Reaper's scythe... From a red gate, right? Fine trophy. You'll earn your trip here."
Sim Wol spun her spear overhead. A wailing keen sliced the air. Kamenisky staggered.
Ghost Wail Spear
"Ghost Wail Spear... Intriguing. Your collection would fit right in with mine."
Kamenisky swung his scythe and lunged. Sim Wol's spear tip met it head-on.
Kwang!
The weapons clashed. They pushed, testing strength—then exploded apart in a flurry of dozens of slashes. Each strike numbed their hands.
Raw power colliding.
As mana infused the blades, winds whipped wildly. The scythe's momentum shredded Kamenisky's tent. His ramen pot tumbled and crumpled. The rack rolled, spilling weapons everywhere.
Asphalt cracked; half-collapsed buildings crumbled fully. Ruins turned to wasteland.
'This won't end it.'
Sim Wol shifted tactics. She loosened her aggressive thrusts, shaking the shaft side to side.
The scythe sliced empty air—then her tip climbed his arm.
"Hmph!"
Kamenisky snorted, flicking his wrist to redirect. Joints screamed from the strain, but it batted the spear away.
Crisis averted; opportunity struck.
His turn. He thrust with the scythe. Sim Wol smirked inwardly. Thrusting with that, not a spear or sword? Sure, the blade had a point, but useless.
She tilted her head, dodging effortlessly.
Chill prickled her nape. She bent backward. Something grazed her neck. The reversed scythe cleaved where her throat had been.
Shocked, she leaped back. Her nape stung. Touching it: sticky. Blood.
"Haven't drawn blood in ages."
"Pity. Nice technique wasted—you dodged well."
Kamenisky chuckled. Sim Wol stared coolly, sweat beading down her back but facade unbroken.
'Can't outfight that old monster with weapons alone.'
One exchange proved it.
His weapon mastery, honed over decades as an S-rank, was insidious. Even basics carried profound depth.
"Just bare your neck quietly."
"Warm-up's over. You've lived long enough—time to die!"
Spear Shadow Throw
Sim Wol unleashed her honed original skill.
Original skills came from relentless training, no skill book required. The grind made them inferior in polish to gate skills.
"Now this is worth watching."
Her thrust split into dozens of prongs. Rays from the tips rained on Kamenisky.
He gripped the scythe long. Thrusting from the base, it spun. Held high, it formed an umbrella shield. Mana flowed over it.
Reaper's Aegis
An item-bound skill. Mana from the user, but unique+ weapons sometimes carried them.
The spinning scythe swelled the barrier. Spear rays deflected wildly.
Sim Wol chained seamlessly.
Dragon Child
Her red gate unique morphed into a dragon form lunging at Kamenisky.
The mana drake gaped fangs to devour him.
Space Slash
Unique countered unique.
He emptied his arsenal. The scythe cleaved the drake horizontally. Reality warped; sky and earth sliced like a cut photo.
Massive explosion engulfed the road. Concrete husks shredded. A withered hydrant rocketed skyward.
Sim Wol stabbed her spear into the ground, bracing. Mana cloaked her. Her armored coat shredded, revealing clinging metal plates.
Infusing energy, the armor animated, enveloping her swiftly. A helm crowned her—full plate like a medieval knight with spear.
Kamenisky took a beating too. His cloak-shoulderguard tatters; clothes shredded away.
Not naked, thankfully. Brown leather armor underneath, special pants below. Seemingly flimsy next to hers, but all top red gate gear.
Aftermath cleared.
Kamenisky advanced swinging. Sim Wol gripped mid-shaft, striding forth.
The rare fight thrilled her.
"Come on—today we settle who rules the Far East."