Murim Login - Chapter 433

A middle-aged anchor with a dignified expression began speaking on the latest hologram TV.

– “It’s been 20 days since the Sichuan Monster Wave, named ‘Small Cataclysm,’ ended. Cries of suffering echo throughout the continent. CCTV correspondent Wei Zhe Zhang is on the scene.”

The screen shifted as soon as he finished.

Amidst the ruins, now completely collapsed and turned to ashes, a young reporter clad in protective gear looked into the camera and began to speak.

– “Currently, the Sichuan area is undergoing massive recovery efforts. Although aid from around the world continues, the remnants of war remain brutal.”

The camera panned slowly over the surroundings.

The young reporter was not the only one present at the site. People of different nations, languages, and backgrounds filled the ruins.

– “Lift on three. One, two.”

– “Hup!”

The scene shifted.

A space too narrow for heavy machinery to enter.

Hunters with large builds lifted pieces of stone and concrete instead of weapons, and mages cast continuous detection spells to search for possible survivors.

– “What do you think?”

– “There seem to be no survivors within a 100-meter radius. We’ll move and try again…”

– “Here! We’ve found a survivor! Quickly!”

When an injured survivor was discovered, healers rushed in, administering potions and healing spells.

When a child, once on the brink of death, finally breathed stably, people exchanged emotional smiles.

But the joy was brief.

The reporter’s following words shattered the moment with harsh reality.

– “According to government authorities, the current known casualty count is 4 million, with property damage amounting to 2.3 trillion yuan. This is the greatest damage since the Great Cataclysm, far exceeding the Sichuan earthquake from years past.”

In just one month, millions were either dead or injured, and astronomical sums vanished.

The scariest part was that these figures represented only what had been reported so far.

Considering the decline in stocks and the impact on various industries, China was in for severe hardships.

Amid such facts, grief and anger consumed the Chinese people, directing their rage as one.

The young reporter, standing there, was no exception. His voice trembled with indignation as he spoke.

– “This Monster Wave was a natural disaster beyond human control. But had we all prepared and responded swiftly, the outcome could have been different. President Xiao Yang deeply apologized and released last month’s meeting recordings.”

The recordings were shocking.

The meeting records of the Communist Party’s top committee, previously shrouded in secrecy, revealed fierce debates: one faction led by Xiao Yang advocating for immediate international help and the Crown Prince Party, urging the fight with the spirit of chivalry, clinging to nationalist ideals.

One figure stood out prominently.

An old politician, now having lost everything after his only son, Wu Haixing, played the starring role in the recordings.

– “Premier Wu Qiming, a Standing Committee member of the Central Politburo, has been involved in politics for over 50 years, leading the Crown Prince Party and committing numerous corrupt acts.”

Had the outcome been favorable, this wouldn’t have happened.

However, the rhetoric about ‘the strength of China’ and ‘the spirit of chivalry’ that Wu Qiming spouted during the initial Small Cataclysm meeting became derided, even among those immersed in Sinocentrism, and turned into a global laughingstock.

Moreover, as reports surfaced about military corruption causing tanks to stop and helicopters to crash, Wu Qiming found himself driven to the brink.

President Xiao Yang, a seasoned politician, seized this golden opportunity.

– “For years, Premier Wu Qiming has exploited his connections within the military, political, and economic spheres to embezzle astronomical sums. Now, we are uncovering all circumstances related to this case.”

The purge had already begun.

Among the seven standing committee members at the Communist Party’s pinnacle, Wu Qiming and the Crown Prince Party’s leaders were summoned one by one, leading to a major military reshuffle.

The media’s cameras pointed wherever the government directed and parroted whatever they were shown.

Though there were a few more investigations and trials pending, everyone knew these were mere formalities.

– “Comrades of the people, they will face the justice they deserve…!”

– “Excuse me, sir.”

The young reporter’s impassioned voice, charged with rage, was suddenly interrupted, turning his mind blank.

‘Who’s crazy enough to interrupt a live broadcast…’

This was a major broadcasting mishap.

The staff on-site, the main anchor at the broadcasting desk, and even the director watching from his office all gaped in shock.

But the main culprit of the scene remained utterly nonchalant.

In fact, he spoke to the reporter in an irritated voice.

– “Please move aside. I appreciate the coverage, but you’re obstructing the work.”

– “E-excuse me?”

– “Did you stuff stinky tofu in your ears? Don’t film here in the middle of our work. Go somewhere else.”

The young reporter’s face turned pale as he glanced around in confusion.

Around him, the staff were frozen with fear, while some hunters looked amused, as if enjoying the interruption.

After a brief moment of panic, the reporter forced a smile and addressed the man.

– “S-sorry, it seems we made a mistake.”

– “Sorry my foot… Ugh, my throat.”

Hooorrgh, spit.

Covered in dust from head to toe, the man spat out a black glob and continued.

– “A mistake is when you don’t know. I saw you slip some cash to the person in charge to get in here.”

– “W-what are you talking about?!”

– “What do you mean, ‘what’? I saw it. Want to bet your balls on it?”

The cameraman, witnessing all this up close, felt a shiver run through his spine.

‘We’re screwed.’

His employer, CCTV, was China’s largest and one of the top five global broadcasting networks.

But here they were, airing a scene of someone wagering their… parts on live TV at 9 p.m., watched by tens of millions.

The young reporter looked as if his parts had already been cut, pleading desperately.

– “P-please, sir, I beg you…”

– “Move while I’m still asking nicely.”

– “This is live. Please watch your language…”

– “Wow, you really don’t get it. There’s a survivor under where you’re standing, so move.”

– “W-what?!”

Everyone, including the reporter and staff, jumped back as if burned.

The man nodded and approached a massive concrete slab, placing his hand on it.

– “Much better. Now stay back, or you’ll get hurt.”

Whoosh, thud!

There was no need to call for help. The slab, which had taken several hunters to lift, flew like a pebble, and whenever the man’s hand blurred, the rocks and earth split apart like soft cake.

Crack-crack-crack!

In the blink of an eye—before a cup of ramen could even cook—the man emerged from the deep hole with an elderly woman cradled in his arms.

– “Oh my, what…”

The stunned broadcasting staff were pushed aside by the approaching hunters.

A healer in a white robe hurried over with a potion, but the man waved him off.

– “Not now. Her body is too weak to handle a potion.”

– “W-wait a moment, sir. Are you a close-range hunter? I’m an expert in this field…”

– “Hmm. Maybe not?”

The man’s casual reply came as he placed a hand on the old woman’s back.

The warmth that spread was palpable even from meters away, and a hint of color returned to her pale cheeks.

– “Take her to a warm place. Keep her body temperature stable with magic, and once she regains consciousness, you can use a potion or healing magic.”

The healer, looking between the man and the woman in disbelief, opened his mouth.

– “T-thank you, sir.”

– “There’s no need for thanks, and I’m not a sir. By the way…”

The man’s voice dropped as he continued, his tone calm and measured.

– “She’s the last survivor here.”

– “Ah…”

Understanding the gravity of those words, a groan escaped from those present.

Both the hunters and the broadcasting staff nodded, though confusion still lingered.

‘Why?’

Even a quick glance revealed hundreds of hunters employing magic and high-tech equipment to search for survivors. Trusting this man’s word over them seemed foolish, yet…

‘I believe him for some reason.’

Why was that?

Watching the miraculous scene unfold, thoughts of a broadcasting blunder vanished from their minds.

Instead, two new words took their place.

A vague feeling of hope.

– “This is just my personal opinion. So please, don’t give up until the end.”

Unconsciously, the cameraman lifted his camera, which had dropped down.

He then called out to the man, who was about to turn and leave.

– “S-sir, are you Jin?”

The question echoed the curiosity of everyone there.

A man covered in dust from head to toe.

Yet the glimpse of him evoked the image of one person…

– “Nope.”

The immediate, flat answer stunned the cameraman.

– “N-no?”

– “Yes. Are you talking about Jin Taekyung? Thanks for the flattery, but why would he be here? The news says he’s nowhere to be seen.”

That was true. Since the press conference, Jin Taekyung had been a mysterious hero, absent from sight.

It was absurd to have thought otherwise, just from a hunch.

As the cameraman sighed, the young reporter spoke up.

– “Then, can I ask one more thing?”

– “No. Take care.”

– “What do you think about the rumor that Jin is a descendant of Ming general Chen Lin, who fought in the Imjin War?”

The man, who had been walking away, spun around like lightning.

– “Why is everyone always a descendant of someone? Then, by that logic, Asmodeus is Einstein’s descendant? At least make your nonsense somewhat believable…”

– “…Oh.”

– “…Ah.”

A hush fell, as if the world had stopped.

Seeing the stunned faces around him, the man, Jin Taekyung, spoke again.

– “You know I’m joking, right?”

– “I just dropped by on my way somewhere.”

– “Please edit this out, including the ball comment.”

The reporter, emerging from shock, squeezed out his voice.

– “This is live, sir.”

– “Oh.”

Jin Taekyung nodded with a dismayed expression and asked again.

– “Live? For real?”

– “Yes.”

– “From where to where…?”

– “I’m sorry, but from the start to the end…”

– “And the viewership?”

– “Just got a text—30 percent reached.”

– “Ah, I see.”

After a moment of silence, Jin Taekyung started walking.

A young reporter, whose life had just changed from this massive broadcast mishap into an exclusive scoop, called out desperately.

– “S-sir! Where are you going?”

A weary voice answered.

– “Home.”

And he meant it.

Dozens of aircraft flew in, crossing the sky to land smoothly on the cleared ground.

They were there to take him back to Korea for a brief time, before heading to another world once more.