Chapter 266: Trip To Germany (1)
It was a video showing several facilities of the Jeonghwa Guild in Seoul exploding.
At least the explosions didn’t occur in crowded places.
Even though The Abyss despised the Jeonghwa Guild, they wouldn’t harm civilians in the area.
Killing civilians? That would be a fatal mistake, even for those trying to build a justification.
That’s why it seemed The Abyss had deliberately targeted military facilities associated with the Jeonghwa Guild.
As he continued watching the footage, it became clear that the explosions were induced in the guild’s own armories and training facilities.
‘Jang Si-hwan isn’t an idiot. There’s no way he would’ve been lax about security in places like that…’
After all, the person who had crafted the cautious and meticulous character of Jang Si-hwan was none other than himself.
He knew Jang Si-hwan’s personality better than anyone.
For military and training facilities, there would be dense CCTV installations and multiple layers of security.If that had been breached, it wasn’t just a simple failure of standard security. It indicated a much bigger problem.
‘There’s an insider.’
A traitor within.
If someone the Jeonghwa Guild trusted implicitly had betrayed them, this would be possible.
The higher the security in a facility, the more it relies on those in charge—meaning they have greater authority.
It wasn’t the first time The Abyss had planted insiders within various factions.
Wasn’t the reason the Eclipse’s Pyeongtaek branch was utterly destroyed recently because they had an insider too?
Because someone inside had helped, all the defensive structures had been neutralized at once.
It was like a historical siege hundreds of years ago—when a fortress gate was opened from the inside, it was game over.
‘In the original story, Lee Hyun-seok died before causing any major incidents, so there probably wasn’t even a chance for an insider to be revealed.’
There must have been insiders even back then.
But after Lee Hyun-seok’s death and The Abyss absorbing the Jeonghwa Guild, they likely vanished without a trace.
They just had to pretend nothing happened. It’s not like they’d come forward saying, “Hey, I was an insider.”
‘Jang Si-hwan must be going crazy right now.’
Thinking about how much Jang Si-hwan must be struggling, Kang-hoo couldn’t help but smile. The situation was chaotic on all fronts.
Now that the presence of an insider had been confirmed, they’d surely start hunting for the traitor internally.
And with multiple explosions across Seoul, they’d also need a media campaign to calm the public.
They couldn’t undo the explosions, so they’d likely try to shift all the blame onto The Abyss.
All these processes would drain Jang Si-hwan’s mental energy and attention like crazy.
As long as The Abyss kept pulling the strings, it would be difficult for Jang Si-hwan to focus on anything else.
Which meant his attention on Kang-hoo would naturally loosen.
After all, things visible under a microscope often go unnoticed when looked at with the naked eye.
“What’s this?”
Kang-hoo shifted his focus to another video, concentrating deeply.
It was footage of Chae Gwanhyeong in combat.
Videos of Chae Gwanhyeong or Jang Si-hwan in battle were rarely uploaded. They would immediately become targets for analysis.
Yet, here was a video of Chae Gwanhyeong, posted on the official Jeonghwa Guild account. It was likely an attempt to bury the Seoul explosion incident or, at the very least, divert attention elsewhere.
Sure enough, numerous Hunter media accounts affiliated with the Jeonghwa Guild began streaming the video in real time.
Even popular influencers on Huntergram suddenly started posting the footage competitively.
“Cover an issue with another issue. Bury the last incident with the latest one. Smart.”
With this overwhelming flood of content, there was no way to fight it. Before long, the explosion footage had been pushed far into the background.
It seemed there had even been coordinated reports filed, causing some explosion videos to be removed entirely.
Since this was such an obvious tactic, Kang-hoo focused on Chae Gwanhyeong’s battle footage.
They must have wanted to shift public attention because the video revealed some of Chae Gwanhyeong’s core abilities.
For Kang-hoo, it was a treasure trove of analysis material. He recorded the video as he watched, knowing it could be taken down at any moment.
“Hmm…”
As he observed Chae Gwanhyeong, Kang-hoo simulated various battle scenarios in his mind.
Thanks to the fifth effect of the Dimension Plunderer constellation, Chae Gwanhyeong’s signature Short Blink was restricted.
It was a space-manipulation skill, allowing him to teleport erratically while looking for openings—but that tactic was now blocked.
However…
“That’s the real problem.”
Chae Gwanhyeong repeatedly used a taunt-type skill that dragged his opponents toward him.
Because of that, it was difficult to maintain distance.
To approach for an attack, Kang-hoo would have to enter the taunt’s effective range.
But if he stayed outside that range, the distance would be too great for any meaningful engagement.
“And then there’s Designated Command—that’s a pain.”
Designated Command was another of Chae Gwanhyeong’s skills, restricting the opponent’s movements.
It created a one-on-one arena with a 30-meter radius that neither combatant could leave.
Attempting to escape would trigger a violent reaction from the barrier, disintegrating the fleeing body.
Both Chae Gwanhyeong and the designated opponent were trapped, and no one from the outside could intervene.
It was a perfect one-on-one battleground.
That’s why most avoided close combat with Chae Gwanhyeong. Once trapped, escape was nearly impossible without dying.
Countless battle scenarios flashed through Kang-hoo’s mind as he considered the many variables.
It wouldn’t be easy.
The level difference alone was massive—three times his own.
Chae Gwanhyeong’s level was at least 750. In pure numbers, there was no way a fair fight could happen.
“I might be able to survive, but I can’t see a way to kill him. Though, matching him evenly would still be impressive.”
Kang-hoo’s expression grew serious.
But the most dangerous factor was Chae Gwanhyeong’s hidden skill—Radiant Slash.
A five-hit combo, with each strike doubling in damage.
If you couldn’t avoid the fifth hit, there was a 99% chance of dying.
The remaining 1% was a hopeful estimate, assuming Chae Gwanhyeong would make a mistake. In reality, the odds were basically 100%.
‘Still, thinking about how far I’ve come since waking up in the detention center… I’ve become ridiculously strong.’
While it felt like there was still a long road ahead, at the same time, Kang-hoo realized he had already come quite far.
At least now, when thinking about the members of The Thirteen Stars, he could calculate that a fight against them was feasible.
With more time and growth, perhaps even greater possibilities would open up. It was a positive outlook.
“Ah!”
At that moment, Kang-hoo suddenly remembered something and quickly called K.
He just realized that, with his flight to Germany scheduled for tomorrow, he would be out of the country for a few days.
But he hadn’t told the Celestial Assassin that he was going to Germany.
Even funnier, he hadn’t even exchanged contact information with the Celestial Assassin—it had completely slipped his mind.
Why was that? Was it because they weren’t close enough yet? Or had he just assumed K would handle it?
Either way, since he had no way to contact the Celestial Assassin directly, he had to pass the message through K.
The call connected quickly. K hadn’t gone to bed yet or was still awake.
-“Oh, calling me out of the blue?”
“Sorry for calling so late.”
-“No need to apologize. Something going on?”
“I’m heading out on an external mission and will be away for a few days. But I don’t have the master’s number.”
-“Hahaha! Were you both waiting for the other to ask first? He said the same thing!”
“Oh, so he reached out to you?”
-“Of course! He’s been wondering what to prepare to make sure his teachings are meaningful to you.”
“Hmm…”
Though the Celestial Assassin often appeared grumpy and guarded, it seemed he was different beneath the surface.
The thought that someone held him in higher regard than he expected made Kang-hoo genuinely grateful.
At the same time, it sparked a desire not to disappoint him as a disciple—he wanted to prove himself through skill.
“I’ll explain everything to him, so don’t worry and focus on your mission. Whatever it is, be careful.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
-“Oh, and call Yuri sometimes. She always says she’s the one reaching out first.”
“Will do. You’re right.”
-“She thinks highly of you. Since my wife and I are often busy, I’d be grateful if you could check in on her now and then.”
“Of course. I’ll do that.”
-“Alright then. I’ll wait for your call.”
The call ended.
What did K mean when he said Jung Yuri thought “highly” of him?
It wasn’t like Kang-hoo had no feelings at all, but he couldn’t say he and Jung Yuri had grown particularly close.
Their bond, formed in Ground Zero, was indeed special—but it hadn’t developed into something deeper.
If speaking purely of physical intimacy, he was arguably closer to Ayane, with whom he had spent a consensual night.
Of course…
Jung Yuri had immense potential for growth and was sure to side against the Jeonghwa Guild eventually.
For that reason alone, Kang-hoo saw her as someone who should remain by his side in the long run.
Still, pure love felt like a meaningless luxury to him.
After all, if someone were to walk alongside him, they’d inevitably share the burdens of his fate.
The challenges ahead were ones even he, alone and unencumbered, struggled to face.
He didn’t want to drag anyone else into those trials.
The Next Morning.
At the airport, Kang-hoo met Ayane and was taken aback by her extravagant outfit.
Her full makeup looked as if she was headed to a wedding, and her dress resembled something worn at a major film festival.
And yet, slung across her back was a massive sniper rifle—a glaring contrast that made the whole ensemble feel absurd.
“Do you really need to dress like this? We’re just boarding a plane.”
“This is for me, not for you. Don’t get the wrong idea, okay?”
“Got it.”
“‘Got it’…?”
“You said it’s for you, so I’m agreeing.”
“…”
“I got a call this morning. Did you know our flight is a private jet?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm, I guess it’s a nice gesture.”
“Well, isn’t that great? Just the two of us—peaceful and quiet.”
“Didn’t expect this level of service.”
“Heh, looks like I’m lucky then.”
Ayane gave him a sly smile.
She didn’t smile often, but when she did, it highlighted the delicate curve of her lips beautifully.
Kang-hoo wasn’t someone who felt emotions easily.
But seeing someone smile often stirred a warm, almost aching feeling deep inside.
Maybe it was envy—or admiration—for emotions he struggled to feel himself.
If he had one wish, it would be to laugh wholeheartedly, without restraint.
But he’d never experienced such joy before and couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like.
Thanks to the private jet, traveling to Germany became much more comfortable.
As expected—
“You really could’ve dressed more comfortably. That pajama set is… something else.”
The moment they boarded, Ayane changed into pajamas featuring a famous Japanese anime character.
The anime was well-known for its top-tier voice acting, which even surpassed the original.
For someone like Ayane, with her cold, elegant demeanor, the cutesy pajama set was the ultimate contrast.
It was… oddly charming.