Crispy Chicken and the Neidan Secret
Crunchy with mana stones and neidan. He bit into the golden fried chicken. Sitting cross-legged on the dining chair, he worked his jaw with mechanical dryness. His left hand tore into the chicken while his right clutched a tissue, wiping grease from his lips. His gaze was fixed on empty space. A smartphone wrapped in swirling blue mana floated at eye level. Chewing the meat, he flicked subtle mana pulses to scroll the screen. It glided smoothly upward.
No issue operating the phone even with both hands occupied. A perfect, hassle-free meal—devouring dinner and web-surfing without twitching a finger. That's when a hand slinked over from across the table and snatched the last drumstick.
"Hey. That's my drumstick."
It was Kang Hae-eun. The brat flashed an infuriating grin and chomped a massive bite out of his precious prize.
"Your little sis is hungry, so don't be so stingy."
"If you had any conscience, you'd eat the breast or thigh. You stole the core of the whole bird—the leg."
"So petty. Oh, right—have you seen the internet, bro?"
Hae-eun tossed it out casually between mouthfuls of chicken.
"You saved those balding old dudes and tanked import prices too. Now they're straight-up treating you like the second coming of Jesus. Fanatics everywhere saying they'll hang your photo in their living rooms."
He dismissed his sister's dramatics with a lazy swipe across the floating phone screen. He took a swig of cola and replied flatly.
"Not my problem. As long as they don't bug me directly or cause trouble, I don't care."
Who gave a damn if people called him a messiah? Right as he went to pop the last chicken chunk into his mouth, the hovering screen switched to an incoming call and vibrated. Caller: Hunter Association President Park Jin-cheol.
"Even dogs don't bother you when you're eating."
He let out an irritated sigh. With a pulse of mana, he hit accept and switched to speakerphone.
"What. I'm eating."
"Sorry to interrupt your meal, Tae-ho. About that starfish yokai report you sent..."
The old man's voice came heavy through the speaker, nothing like his usual boisterous tone pushing for drinks or team dinners.
"What about the report? I wrote that it all burned to ash—no loot."
"Yeah, confirmed no spoils. But the Association research team's analysis on its ecology and weaknesses just wrapped up."
He heard the old man swallow dryly through the speaker.
"Get to the underground research lab ASAP. You need to see this for yourself."
The stench of incoming work. The prelude to something annoyingly troublesome.
"Ugh."
He yanked a wet wipe and scrubbed the grease from his mouth. Hopping down from the chair, he jerked his chin toward his sister as his toes hit the floor.
"Might be late tonight. Tell Mom to clean up the chicken bones when she gets home."
"Huh? You're heading out? Be safe!"
Ignoring her, he flung open the balcony door. Cool night air rushed in. Gathering mana at his toes, he kicked off into the air with explosive force.
Gangnam's heart, Hunter Association HQ. The underground special security research lab, inaccessible by regular elevators. He shoved the heavy steel door open with mana. A sharp sting of formalin and disinfectant assaulted his nose.
"You're here."
The old man approached in a white lab coat thrown over his usual suit, looking utterly drained. Behind him, under the sterile white lights, loomed two massive dissection tables.
Edging closer, he peered onto the tables. His short stature forced him onto tiptoes to see inside.
"What's this."
He asked flatly. The first table held a familiar monster: green skin, bulging gut, blunt tusks. A textbook orc, straight out of any Gate.
The second was the problem.
"This one's from a new Gate a few days back."
The old man pointed his scalpel at the second corpse. Bear-like skeleton, massive. But dozens of grotesque dark-red tentacles burst from its back, twisted in hideous knots. Too bizarre for a mere mutation—like a wuxia novel's mana-soaked beast given flesh.
"Orc and tentacle bear. Different looks, sure. What's the difference."
Arms crossed, he prodded. The old man sighed, dragging over a stainless stool to sit.
"Tae-ho. It's been three years since the Gate Shock."
The old man's fatigued eyes stared into nothing.
"We still don't know jack about these rifts—how they form, what's inside. They open, monsters pour out, we stop 'em. Total unknown."
Obvious stuff. He'd spent two years smashing monster skulls, never bothering with Gate metaphysics.
"But analyzing recent monster corpses uncovered a weird pattern."
The old man jabbed at the orc.
"Orcs, goblins, dragons. Straight out of Western fantasy media. Call 'em fantasy types for convenience. Every one drops mineral mana stones in their hearts or brains."
His finger shifted to the tentacle bear.
"Your Chinese starfish yokai, this tentacle freak—Eastern yokai, wuxia beasts. Lumped 'em as wuxia types. Researcher's guesswork."
The old man met his eyes dead-on, voice dropping.
"Not a single mineral mana stone in any wuxia-type corpses. So, hypothetically."
He swallowed hard.
"Higher-tier wuxia monsters or spirit beasts might drop something like the neidan from legends instead."
His heart skipped a micro-beat. Face blank as ever, his mind raced. That red orb from the starfish yokai he'd secretly absorbed in the training grounds. A neidan. Chilling insight—they'd nailed the truth from corpse data and folklore alone.
But he clamped his mouth shut. No reason to spill that he'd snagged and swallowed a neidan, boosting his mana efficiency. The moment neidan's existence leaked, hunters would turn on each other—not for cash, but raw power. A dog-eat-dog era.
"Sounds like novel bullshit. So you gutted the bear and found some wuxia elixir?"
"Nah. Low-tier, just blood and guts. But we can't rule it out."
The old man gave a bitter smile and shook his head. Standing, he clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"That's why I called you."
His eyes darkened gravely.
"Association teams can't collect enough samples alone. Need transparent data from big guilds' dungeons—corpses, combat logs. Only way to predict this crap."
"Guilds handing over profitable intel for free?"
"Exactly why you gotta step up. They ignore gov or Association orders, but Korea's top firepower asking nicely? No one's saying no."
Ugh. Soul-crushingly annoying. Chest tightening like a vice. Basically, him playing enforcer, strong-arming guild masters for data. Lips parting to refuse—then a nagging doubt flickered.
He was curious too. Gate origins. Why fantasy and wuxia monsters from subculture popped out. And if others had clocked neidans. Ignore these unknowns, and they might brew into a storm wrecking his comfy life. Nip annoyances in the bud.
"...Fine. I'll ping the big guilds."
"Thanks, Tae-ho! As expected, you're—"
"Skip the sappy crap. I'm out."
Cutting him off in disgust, he turned for the door. Out in the cold hallway, he fished out his phone. The chattiest, most connected big guild master. Pulled up Park So-jin's contact and hit call.
It connected before three rings.
"Whoa, what's up? Our pint-sized hero calling first?"
Her sly voice dripped through, monster shrieks echoing behind.
"Busy? Need to peek at Hongryeon Guild data."
"Huh? Why snoop on guild secrets outta nowhere?"
"Business. I'll buy dinner—meat."
"Ooh, meat? Deal. HQ in an hour. Door's open."
Call dropped. He shoved the phone in his pocket. Felt like wading into thickening muck. Deep sigh, then he rocketed from the Association building into the night sky. Endless labor stretched ahead.