Chapter 77

Chapter 77
## Chapter 77: Capital Influx and Secret Passages

—

While Yoo Chan-seok was busy igniting public discourse through his constant television cameos and press sit-downs, Han Sang-ah was certainly not idling away her time.

Her specific mission was to lock down financial backing from the nation’s industrial titans to fund the upcoming campaign against Jaun Valley. These were high-stakes negotiations with corporate sharks. In a boardroom of this caliber, Han Sang-ah couldn’t simply coast on the reputation of the Geumyang Group to get her way. The success of these investment pitches rested entirely upon her own strategic wit and negotiation tactics.

“Ms. Han Sang-ah, it is truly a pleasure to host you,” a voice greeted her.

Even so, the prestige of the Geumyang bloodline held enough weight to ensure the chairman of the conglomerate personally attended the meeting.

“It has been quite some time,” she noted coolly.

“I assumed that once you abandoned the family succession race to pursue the life of a hunter, our paths wouldn’t cross again. I never imagined seeing you in a setting like this. Your grandfather… the chairman must be very gratified by your progress.”

Han Sang-ah offered a stiff, polite nod before clarifying her position.

“My presence here is entirely independent of my grandfather’s influence.”

“I see. Well then… you are seeking capital to neutralize the Erosion Core located in Changchun City, correct?”

The middle-aged executive sitting across from her rubbed his chin thoughtfully and gave a noncommittal shrug.

“To be perfectly honest, it’s difficult to project significant returns just by clearing the Jilin Province Erosion Zone. Furthermore, Jaun Valley isn’t the only threat in that region.”

He wasn’t wrong. Because of the catastrophic presence of Gonsalok in Beijing, the Jilin territory was riddled with instability—official records confirmed more than thirty distinct Erosion Cores. On top of the threat posed by Jaun Valley, South Korea was currently being harassed by another Rank-1 Erosion Core as well.

Han Sang-ah maintained her composure, her face an unreadable mask.

“You are well aware that those two Rank-1 cores are the primary obstacles preventing any real progress.”

Handling anything at Rank-2 or below was trivial; independent hunters would descend upon such zones like scavengers even without a formal call to arms, naturally purging the Erosion Cores and their surrounding zones for the loot.

“That fellow Yoo Chan-seok is a bit of a nuisance as well. He’s been creating a whirlwind of drama on the airwaves lately,” the chairman remarked.

“Which effectively means he has the eyes of the entire country on him,” she countered.

Yoo Chan-seok’s methodology was transparent. Since he couldn’t avoid the vitriol of his detractors anyway, he chose to lean into the chaos, intentionally courting infamy to keep the public’s focus pinned on him.

“For every critic who finds his behavior distasteful, there is an even larger demographic that finds themselves rooting for him.”

“Sympathy? That’s an unexpected take, coming from you.”

The chairman’s voice held a sharp edge of skepticism, but she dismissed it without effort.

“The data is undeniable. Ratings for his broadcasts are soaring, and the digital content we release with the cooperation of the Hunter Association is consistently trending.”

The metrics were indisputable. The view counts were massive, and despite the controversy, the engagement remained overwhelmingly positive. Yoo Chan-seok was a polarizing figure, but the sheer momentum of his popularity far outweighed any negative press.

“He possesses an innate charisma. Honestly, it’s fueled by the blatant contrast between his abrasive personality and his undeniable record of service.”

He had leaped from clearing Rank-3 threats to tackling Rank-1 Erosion Cores in record time. During the crisis in Seoul, he had managed to prevent a total catastrophe while keeping civilian casualties to a minimum. He had a mouth like a sailor, but if one looked at the results, his logic was hard to argue with.

“The number of people who view his contributions favorably is significantly higher than those who don’t.”

With that, Han Sang-ah spread several folders across the table and pressed her advantage.

“One of your subsidiaries is Narsha Tours, is it not? I understand their recent fiscal reports have been lackluster. If we successfully purge the Rank-1 core in Jilin, we could open up lucrative travel corridors stretching from Mount Geumgang all the way to Baekdu Mountain.”

The man opposite her made a clicking sound with his tongue.

“Sang-ah, I am not uninformed. Jaun Valley is a death trap, but the shadow of Gonsalok in Beijing is the true concern. Word is that elements of its Immortal Legion have recently been detected within the Jilin Erosion Zones.”

The Immortal Legion—the primary reason Chinese Erosion Cores had expanded into such nightmare landscapes. It was the collective term for the millions of undead horrors that served Gonsalok in Beijing. Knowing that portions of that army were now moving toward Jilin changed the math. Han Sang-ah’s mind raced through the financial projections.

“250 billion won,” she stated.

Before the words had fully left her lips, the chairman interjected.

“100 billion. Anything higher is a suicide mission given the presence of the Immortal Legion.”

“I have a highly effective strategy to mitigate that risk. 230 billion.”

Han Sang-ah was thinking specifically of the Talisman Drawing Method she had seen Yoo Chan-seok utilize on Great Devil Island. The majority of the entities surfacing in the Northeast Asian zones were undead thralls under the sway of Gonsalok. That technique would likely be devastating against them. It might not wipe them out entirely, but it would certainly tip the scales in their favor.

“A mitigation strategy?”

“Correct. And consider the Baekdu Mountain tours. The domestic demand would be astronomical.”

South Korea currently sat at the pinnacle of global influence, and nationalistic fervor was at an all-time high. Even if North Korea was a wasteland of Erosion Zones, Baekdu remained a spiritual landmark for a generation of Koreans who had never been permitted to set foot on it.

“Once we establish a perimeter of safety, the potential for luxury travel products is endless. You would recoup your investment almost immediately.”

They could collaborate with construction giants to erect high-end resorts, and the PR campaign would practically write itself.

“I find myself intrigued by this ‘mitigation strategy’ of yours.”

Han Sang-ah replied with a calm, professional tone.

“It is not a specialty I personally wield, so I am not at liberty to disclose the intricacies of another hunter’s private techniques to third parties. However, I can guarantee its efficacy.”

“Sang-ah, do you truly expect me to sign off on 230 billion based on a vague promise?”

“It’s an investment, not a donation. Furthermore, opening a tour destination in a region with ‘fluid’ security offers significant strategic advantages for a man in your position, Chairman.”

It was the perfect environment for laundering funds or managing off-the-books assets. In a place where local law was replaced by chaos, avoiding government scrutiny was a simple task.

“And for a conglomerate of your size, 230 billion is a notable sum, but it’s certainly not enough to destabilize your foundations.”

She concluded her point by sliding a final set of papers across the desk.

“There are plenty of other firms eager for this opportunity. But given our history, I gave you the right of first refusal. 230 billion is our floor.”

“Even if the valley is cleared, we won’t have a legal monopoly on the tourism rights.”

Han Sang-ah smiled smoothly.

“Any enterprise in that region will require hunter protection to survive, won’t they? And once Jaun Valley falls, those hunters will remain in the area to clear out the remaining Rank-2 and Rank-3 threats. They’ll need a base of operations.”

She paused to take a refined sip of her tea before continuing.

“The moment the area is secured, I will ensure your firm is the first to sign contracts with the personnel from Team Headhunter.”

In this world, you couldn’t run a business without securing a private army first. Once those hunters were on the payroll and entrenched, it was nearly impossible for competitors to move in.

“Secure those contracts early and station them around Baekdu. Your companies will essentially own the mountain.”

The hunters associated with Team Headhunter would naturally center their operations there.

“…230 billion. Very well. We have a deal.”

After a tense moment of internal conflict, the chairman finally gave his consent.

—

While Han Sang-ah was navigating the halls of corporate power to secure the budget, Jeong Noahoon was busy working in his own specialized environment.

“Chan-seok is playing the celebrity, Sang-ah is charming the billionaires, and then there’s me…”

Jeong Noahoon let out a long yawn as he wandered into a dilapidated traditional market. While many such markets had been renovated into modern hubs, this particular area had completely rotted away, left behind by progress.

“Man, this place is bleak. This atmosphere really clashes with my high-end aesthetic.”

The ground was cluttered with cheap plastic furniture and shattered blue chairs. The smell of stagnant air and sewage water running through the gutters filled his nose. Despite it being the middle of the day, the market was draped in shadows, illuminated only by the sickly orange glow of a few flickering streetlamps.

“Absolutely filthy.”

“Well, look who it is! Brother Kim!”

A man with a jagged scar across his face looked up from a butcher’s block, his cleaver buried deep in a raw bird.

“What do you want? I heard you’ve been tagging along with that Yoo Chan-seok fellow lately.”

Jeong Noahoon smirked, taking a seat on a precarious, one-legged stool. He leaned forward and chirped:

“Get me a cup of coffee first, then we can talk. Where’s the hospitality?”

“Forget that. Go brew it yourself or starve.”

Jeong Noahoon sighed, stood up to mix a cup of instant coffee, and then dropped the bombshell.

“We’re making a move on Changchun City.”

*Thwack.* The man stopped his butchering and stared.

“And?”

“I need people who actually know the terrain. A reliable path through the chaos, you know?”

Because of the monsters roaming the Erosion Zones, the area was a graveyard for the unprepared. The lack of government oversight made it a playground for black-market traders and smugglers.

“I’ve got nothing to say to a guy who turned his back on this life.”

“Oh, come on. Are we really going to talk about ‘betrayal’ between us?”

Jeong Noahoon took a slow sip of his sugary coffee.

“Brother Kim, in a world where we move for the highest bidder, concepts like trust and honor are just fairytales. I’m prepared to pay a premium, so give me the map.”

There were individuals who could traverse Changchun without being eaten alive. Jeong Noahoon needed that specific, unofficial intelligence.

“How much are we talking?”

“I don’t know, maybe two billion?”

The butcher scoffed at the offer, shaking his head.

“A premium? You’re joking. Not a chance. Get lost.”

Jeong Noahoon blinked in surprise. He thought that was a generous opening bid—what was the problem? Just then, his phone vibrated. It was a message from Han Sang-ah: *Immortal Legion from Gonsalok spotted near Jilin Province.*

Suddenly, the butcher’s hesitation made perfect sense.

“Ah, the Immortal Legion is on the move, I take it?”

“Damn it all. Fine, two billion. I’ll take it.”

Jeong Noahoon hit the nail on the head. If someone walked into that mess without knowing about the Legion, they were as good as dead, which justified a higher price. But since the buyer already had the information for free, the butcher lost his leverage and had to settle for the original offer.

Jeong Noahoon swirled the remains of his coffee in the paper cup.

“Jaun Valley is perpetually shrouded in that lethal toxic mist. How do the smugglers manage to navigate a route through that?”

The smugglers moving goods between Jilin and the Korean border weren’t hunters with high resistances. There was no way they could survive the poison naturally. And yet, the trade continued. That meant there was a secret to surviving the fog.

“There’s a trick to it.”

“Obviously. Nobody wants to end up a pile of bones in the woods. Talk to me—make it worth my while.”

Jeong Noahoon leaned in, genuinely curious.

“There’s a plant called sulfurweed. Its stems are flexible but incredibly durable. If you process them into fibers, you can weave them into masks. They work like makeshift respirators.”

They were reusable and provided a significant barrier against toxic fumes, supernatural curses, and even minor hallucinations.

“It won’t keep you safe forever in the heart of Jaun Valley, of course… but for a regular human? About 30 out of 100 can keep their wits about them long enough to get through.”

If a normal person could achieve that level of protection, the results for a high-ranking hunter would be even more impressive.

Jeong Noahoon decided that piece of intel alone justified the expense. But he wasn’t finished squeezing the man yet.

“Hey. The smugglers have the local geography memorized, right?”

“You greedy prick, you trying to take everything I own?”

Jeong Noahoon just gave him a wide, mischievous grin.

“What, you think I want your skin? You smell so bad I couldn’t even sell you as scrap. Stop complaining and keep talking.”