Chapter 69

Chapter 69
## Chapter 69: Conflict with the Digital Star

—

Throughout the period I spent in grueling training sessions alongside Jeong No-hun, Han Sang-ah was busy maintaining her own physical condition while managing a mountain of logistical tasks. This very afternoon, the showcase she had orchestrated would finally take place: my duel with So Hwi.

“Are you holding up? Organizing all of this must have been an exhausting ordeal.”

Han Sang-ah dismissed the concern with a nonchalant expression.

“Before I hit sixteen, my entire life was dedicated to training as the future successor of Geumyang Group. Putting together a minor event like this is child’s play.”

Must be nice. She likely grew up with a small army of tutors and handlers.

“What’s the word on the street?”

“So Hwi has a massive following as an influencer. As for his rival? That’s you—the man currently dominating every headline.”

Yoo Seo-eun placed her electronic tablet on the table and added her perspective.

“A flood of corporations are desperate to buy ad space, and the public’s curiosity is through the roof. Oh, and a representative from Geumyang Group reached out as well.”

“If it works for you, I’m on board.”

I wasn’t about to turn down easy revenue, especially when it felt like they were just handing back my own investment.

“Just a heads-up, I gave them a slightly more favorable rate compared to the other brands.”

Playing the family card, I see. It didn’t bother me; I hadn’t actually expected this to turn into such a lucrative venture. As long as we created a sufficient stir, taking a small hit on the profit margin was acceptable.

“Still, even with a family discount, won’t people cry foul about favoritism if they’re the primary advertisers?”

“You’ve been receiving a steady supply of medicinal enhancers from Geumyang Group, haven’t you? They might be lower-grade replicas, but the sheer quantity is massive. When you account for that, nobody has a leg to stand on.”

“Is that right?”

Han Sang-ah clarified her point.

“To be more specific, they won’t be in a position to lodge any legitimate complaints.”

Ultimately, Han Sang-ah’s management was flawless. We managed to pull the entire production together without dipping into our own pockets, as the event was overflowing with corporate backing. Even the vehicle transporting me to the arena was a promotional loan, as were the refreshments stocked inside.

“You’re a magnet for capital. I bet Chairman Han Sang-cheol was devastated when you chose the life of a hunter over the boardroom.”

“My grandfather doesn’t waste time mourning investments that don’t yield a return.”

We continued our lighthearted banter as Han Sang-ah, Jeong No-hun, and I made our way to the stadium.

“Wow, this is a serious machine.”

Jeong No-hun let out a soft whistle of admiration before turning his attention to me.

“But listen, Chan-seok, are you sure it’s okay for me to just slack off today?”

“Absolutely.”

Jeong No-hun’s physique had reached its breaking point. He desperately needed a full day of recovery. I wasn’t pushing him for the sake of cruelty—it was structured growth. If his health declined because of the intensity, it wouldn’t be training anymore; it would be self-destruction.

“Just relax today. Eat the free snacks, drink the sponsored sodas, and do absolutely nothing.”

I fixed him with a stern, unblinking gaze.

“I’m being serious. Don’t go trying to squeeze in a secret workout later tonight. You’ll only break yourself.”

“Fine, I get it. You think I’m some kind of exercise addict like you or Sang-ah?”

I countered immediately.

“I specifically told you to rest last night. Yet, this morning, ten cartons of eggs had vanished from the kitchen.”

“I was starving, so I cooked them up, you brat.”

Jeong No-hun answered, looking out the window with a mumbled curse.

“Alright, I’ll stop. Why is your nagging even more intense than my mother’s?”

“Yoo Chan-seok is male, so wouldn’t ‘Dad’ be more appropriate?”

Jeong No-hun shot a glare at Han Sang-ah, then let out a heavy sigh of frustration.

—

### 💬 Live Feed

* **User_123:** What’s the countdown?
* **LegacyFan:** So Hwi used to be a powerhouse back in the day, didn’t he?
* **DoubtfulMind:** This is all just a staged joke.
* **AdBot99:** ◁◁ Visit my stream for 30k giveaway (open all week), no entry fee—everyone wins! Not a trick, check it out. Thousands have already won.
* **AuthenticVoice:** That influencer has never even laid eyes on a Grade 1 Erosion Core.
* **TinfoilHat:** Eom Jun-sik is still out there somewhere…

Ignoring the deluge of nonsense flooding the chat, roughly sixty percent of the audience was wagering on a victory for Yoo Chan-seok, while the remaining forty percent were pulling for So Hwi. In reality, many of So Hwi’s backers didn’t necessarily believe in him; they were simply critics who wanted to see Yoo Chan-seok fail.

“….”

So Hwi bit his lip, gauging the atmosphere through his phone screen. His own supporters didn’t truly expect him to triumph. They were merely contrarians, backing the underdog because the rest of the world was leaning toward Yoo Chan-seok. It was a classic case of the underdog effect.

“Why does it have to be me?”

So Hwi took no pleasure in being the long shot after his years of experience as a hunter. He retrieved a small glass tube from his pocket, studied it for a moment, and took a stabilizing breath. The duel was scheduled for five rounds. This wasn’t a “first to three” scenario—it was five distinct bouts.

“Just a single win.”

Victory in even one round would suffice. Being the underdog meant the public would be forgiving of his failures but incredibly critical of Yoo Chan-seok. If Yoo Chan-seok stumbled even once, the public outcry would be devastating. So Hwi could mend the reputation damage from his previous video and shield himself from future criticism.

“Hunter So Hwi, are you prepared?”

The door to the staging area swung open, and a production assistant beckoned him. It was time. So Hwi tucked the vial away and stood up.

—

“Wow, I think this is the first time we’ve met face-to-face.”

On the arena stage, his opponent offered a casual greeting. Yoo Chan-seok. Dressed in sleek, black tactical gear resembling a racing suit, a spear rested over his shoulder. He watched So Hwi with the tranquil confidence of a man who had already decided the outcome.

“So Hwi.”

“Yoo Chan-seok.”

Yoo Chan-seok scrutinized him from head to toe, and So Hwi returned the look. There was no sense of overwhelming power. Yoo Chan-seok’s mana signature felt… underwhelming.

‘Maybe a fifth of mine.’

It was a respectable amount for someone who had been a hunter for less than a year. But the idea that he had cleared Bratsk’s supplies solo with Han Sang-ah using only that much mana?

‘Impossible.’

He could win this. In fact, he might even dominate. A surge of self-assurance washed over So Hwi.

“Using twin blades, I see.”

So Hwi crossed his unsheathed swords in an ‘X’ formation, glaring at Yoo Chan-seok.

“I hope you’re at least half as skilled as the rumors suggest.”

He threw out the taunt with bravado. Yoo Chan-seok merely gave his spear a single rotation, remaining silent.

The opening round commenced. The moment the signal died out, So Hwi launched a ferocious assault. Yoo Chan-seok’s spear suddenly retracted from its full reach to the size of a short blade.

‘Hah, just a mechanical toy.’

So Hwi unleashed a torrential storm with his dual swords. He poured maximum effort into every microsecond. His mana-charged body moved faster than thought, fueled by pure instinct and resentment.

‘This is the feeling!’

Despite two years away from the field, his hunter instincts were reigniting. It was like an engine that had been sitting idle, shaking off the grime and roaring back to life. So Hwi had watched the footage of Yoo Chan-seok sparring with recruits after his press conference. For some reason, the kid’s mana never seemed to deplete.

‘Then I’ll end this quickly while my reserves are higher.’

Years of muscle memory took control of his movements. Watching from the sidelines, Han Sang-ah spoke up.

“So Hwi has already lost.”

“Yeah.”

Jeong No-hun was busy eating popcorn, his eyes fixed on the fight. Han Sang-ah reached over and helped herself to a handful.

“Hey, I bought that.”

“It’s sponsored, so technically it’s everyone’s.”

Jeong No-hun fell silent and focused back on the stage. To an untrained eye, it looked like Yoo Chan-seok was struggling on the defensive. But it wasn’t true. After nights of being battered in practice, Jeong No-hun had finally attained the perspective Yoo Chan-seok wanted him to have. He was learning to turn unconscious instinct into deliberate, conscious mastery.

‘Yoo Chan-seok’s philosophy is the real deal.’

He saw the fight through a completely different lens now. Before his recent training, he might have bet on So Hwi. But instinctive movements can never truly compete with calculated, controlled execution.

Faint blue streaks began to linger in the wake of Yoo Chan-seok’s spear. Was that the Quadruple Spear? The spectral trails seemed to mirror and repeat his strikes along their paths.

“That’s a devious technique.”

“I still haven’t found a way to crack it.”

Han Sang-ah responded bluntly to Jeong No-hun. Those blue trails weren’t just for show. So Hwi’s cyclone of attacks began to lose its speed, gradually smothered by the lingering energy. It was like watching a constrictor at work. You don’t realize you’re being hunted until you’re already coiled, crushed, and being slowly consumed.

“His plan is solid. To take down Chan-seok, you have to hit him with everything you’ve got while you still have the mana advantage.”

“If it were that simple, he would have surrendered to me a long time ago.”

Han Sang-ah’s comment was icy. It was the only theoretical way to beat Yoo Chan-seok. Regardless of his mana regeneration, the total capacity of his pool was limited compared to veterans. You had to strike while you held the numerical edge—but he never allowed the fight to reach that point or gave up his position.

“Even someone like Lee Se-eun took a significant amount of time to actually take the initiative from him.”

So Hwi wasn’t in that league, and his mana capacity wasn’t a bottomless ocean like hers. If So Hwi’s power was a flickering candle, Lee Se-eun’s was a scorching sun capable of melting pavement.

—

### — Stream Commentator

> “Hunter So Hwi is applying immense pressure! Yoo Chan-seok is doing nothing but parrying and dodging—if he slips up for even a second, it’s over!”

Nothing would go wrong. That was simply the way Yoo Chan-seok operated. The thought crossed the minds of both Han Sang-ah and Jeong No-hun simultaneously.

So Hwi’s thirty-minute whirlwind of aggression began to falter. It wasn’t just slowing down; it was being actively suppressed.

“Man, that’s rough.”

Jeong No-hun let out a sympathetic sigh. It was finished. Yoo Chan-seok had completely dismantled So Hwi’s momentum. As the influencer’s offense evaporated, Yoo Chan-seok transitioned into his own strike.

The spear blurred three, four times in quick succession. The spectral blue trails followed suit, striking with precision. Within seconds, So Hwi was peppered by nearly a dozen impacts and collapsed to his knees.

“He won’t even understand how he lost.”

Jeong No-hun nodded in agreement with Han Sang-ah’s assessment, his popcorn now forgotten. There was no way for him to perceive it. So Hwi had been so consumed by his own adrenaline and the frantic rhythm of his muscles that he had lost all situational awareness.

Suddenly, So Hwi found himself kneeling on the stage. Jeong No-hun and Han Sang-ah could easily predict his internal monologue.

‘I thought I was winning?’

Gasping for air, So Hwi coughed and wiped a trace of blood from his lip, his hands shaking. He had been the one swinging nonstop; Yoo Chan-seok had looked like he was barely hanging on. Then, in an instant, the roles reversed. He was on the ground, and Yoo Chan-seok was standing tall.

‘What? How did this happen?’

So Hwi stared at the floor, trapped in a state of shock. Yoo Chan-seok, peering down at him, offered no words of wisdom or critique. There was no reason to.

“Phew, that was a close one.”

Instead, he muttered that single phrase, which only served to reignite So Hwi’s desperate desire for a rematch. It was a calculated move—like a professional gambler letting a victim think they almost won, just to keep them at the table until they have nothing left.