217. Let's Watch and See
“Was it really the right choice for Kang Moo-hyuk to designate LA as the test site?”
Alex asked from inside the private jet heading back to New York, home of the World Hunter Federation headquarters.
Aila gazed out the window at the vast expanse of the American Southwest desert below before replying.
“It's hard to read that man's true intentions, but if he chose LA, there must be a good reason.”
“A reason... Well, I'm starting to think he might have made a mistake this time.”
“Why do you say that?”
“LA has always been chaos incarnate. In Eastern terms, you could call it a demon hall.”
“A demon hall?”
“It means a place teeming with all sorts of demons. Not literal ones, of course—just a metaphor for how utterly disordered it is.”
“Ah, that makes sense now that you mention it.”
“Anyway, it's infamous for monster incidents spiraling out of control in bizarre ways. Guilds have clashing interests, leading to unofficial guild wars breaking out regularly. And with criminal organizations operating openly, conflicts can erupt anytime.”
“Is there anywhere that isn't like that these days?”
“LA's different. Excluding some Chinese cities that brute-force their stats with sheer hunter numbers, it's the most chaotic place in the world—guild establishments, freelancer density, gate outbreaks, monster incidents, you name it.”
“Hearing it laid out like that, yeah, demon hall fits perfectly.”
“Honestly, if you hadn't brought it up, Aila, I would've stepped in and tried to talk Kang out of it myself.”
Having heard him out, Aila finally tore her gaze from the window. She met Alex's eyes, sensing there was more to his words, and turned the question back on him.
“That doesn't sound like you're just worried about Kang Moo-hyuk. So, what's really on your mind?”
“Your intentions, Aila. You want him in the Federation more than anyone, yet you didn't try to dissuade him from this tough test. I'm curious why.”
“It's the perfect test venue.”
“He's a civilian. A foreigner, at that. Sending him to LA? That's like strolling through Harlem clutching a wad of cash. Think about Russia. If something goes wrong again, the Federation's reputation takes a hit—and worse, Kang loses faith in us.”
Alex thumped his chest in frustration, but Aila smiled faintly.
“Ever heard of the order of disorder?”
“Pardon? Order of disorder? What's that?”
“When disorder reaches its peak, a new order emerges. Conversely, rigid order can crumble after too long.”
“What does that have to do with—?”
“Los Angeles. That's exactly it. When all the rule-breakers gather, unwritten rules form eventually. Have you seen the guild conflict stats or hunter crime rates there over the last five years?”
“No.”
“I requested those when Kang Moo-hyuk picked LA as the test site.”
Only then did Alex grasp the source of Aila's composure.
'So Kang's set up some kind of board in LA?'
He hadn't crossed to America on a whim. He'd seen something Alex hadn't and accepted the test accordingly.
“It started as a test to secure his cooperation after his chat with that unknown entity. But he's shown capabilities far beyond expectations in the Federation entry exam. I'm really looking forward to this. So let's watch and see if Kang Moo-hyuk is fit to be the Federation's fourth 'Commander'.”
Kang Moo-hyuk spun the slot machine a few times before heading to a blackjack table.
Blackjack was a game where the player closest to 21 without going over won.
Thanks to movies, people often mistook card counting for an invincible technique.
Card counting involved tracking open cards to gauge what remained in the deck, using probability to make favorable choices.
It sounded impressive, but in a 52-card single deck, perfect counters were rare.
Even then, it only boosted win rates to around 50%.
Not the guaranteed wins movies portrayed.
Casinos had countermeasures post-movies: multi-deck shoes with over 100 cards or shuffling every hand, rendering counting useless.
No matter Kang's memory, probability games offered no 100% wins.
He scanned the blackjack tables and sat at one starting fresh.
What followed was ghostly play—nightmarish for the dealer.
Not 100% wins, but minimal losses and huge gains. By deck's end, chips piled high before him.
New game, same story. Spectators might suspect cheating at this miraculous level.
As dealers kept losing decks, onlookers gathered.
His million-dollar chips doubled to two million; the casino swapped dealers.
By the new game's close, stakes towered higher.
Finally, they sensed something wrong.
The security room monitoring his table was in chaos.
The casino manager grilled the head of security.
“That Asian guy. Card counting?”
“Three-deck shoe, 156 cards. Impossible—even for a supercomputer.”
“Marked cards? Scan 'em.”
“Checked already. Nothing visible. Switched suppliers anyway, but he's still winning.”
“Then what the hell? Why's he dominating?”
“I don't...”
“Hunter? Special skill?”
“Facial recognition says no. Unregistered, no mana signature.”
“Damn it. He'll clean out three mil soon. Shut the table.”
“One's closed, dealer swapped. He's moved and winning elsewhere.”
“Shut all blackjack.”
“Crowd's huge. Closing now starts rumors we're dodging winners. They'll bolt elsewhere—we're done for the day.”
The manager scowled. One player nearly made him overreact.
Blackjack was minor revenue. Shutting tables risked alienating picky hunter clients, tanking sales long-term.
Catching a flea could burn the house.
But ignoring this unbeatable player? No.
“Deploy pros.”
Standard ploy: shills posing as players to disrupt.
Didn't work. He played like he knew every card coming.
Tech? Guards checked electromagnetics—nothing.
Last resort:
“Escort him. Nicely.”
Kang Moo-hyuk eyed the fresh deck indifferently.
'Three decks per shoe. No shuffle to prove fairness.'
Face-up cards scattered, gathered, flipped, shuffled.
He watched every step: sequence on table, flip order, chunk sizes, dealer's habits.
His impossible human card counting.
'Card counting? They'd never guess even if I showed the order slow.'
No Song-rin, watching, was floored.
Memorizing the split-second table gather? He'd heard of Kang's smarts, but this?
'Could've been a pro gambler. Money no issue.'
As a million swelled past three, Kang whispered back.
“They're coming soon.”
“What—”
No Song-rin trailed off, sensing burly guys closing in.
'All hunters. Waste as casino staff. Low-ranks, but still.'
Casinos with hunter patrons needed hunter security.
Non-hunting hunters: villains or cowards.
No guts for monsters, too scared for villainy—prey fearing hunters.
Either way, No Song-rin wasn't fazed.
“Time to blow off steam.”
Cracking knuckles, fist clenched—then a guard approached Kang. As No Song-rin tensed, Kang subtly shook his head: observe unless dangerous.
'Not telepathy. Why do I get it from a look?'
No Song-rin grimaced at his own intuition.
The guard spoke politely to Kang.
“Sir, congrats on the wins. We've a VIP spot upstairs. Please come with us.”
Smooth, but insistent.
Kang, eyes on game: “Nah. Game's heating up—move aside? Guess the boss's gut hurts seeing me win.”
“Not that. Inviting a good player.”
“No need. Don't close tables. New dealers fine, but kill the game? Come on, right folks?”
Onlookers cheered.
“Yeah!”
“Thugs here. Sucked our cash fine—now we win a bit, shut down?”
“Spreading word. Buddies are whales; tell my clan the water's bad, they skip.”
Las Vegas's biggest fish: hunters.
Backing Kang, guard looked awkward.
Wanted to drag the “cheat,” but couldn't trash rep among hunters.
Unaware Death loomed beside.
No Song-rin: touch Kang, smash face.
Stuck guard saved unexpectedly.
“Kang Moo-hyuk Leader, time's up. Let's go.”
Jang Deok-gu tapped his watch. Kang checked, feigned surprise.
“Huh? Already? Close call.”
“Yes. San Diego buyers inbound for Rider Wolves. Can't delay.”