Chapter 726
Ding.
[Initiating synchronization.]
[10, 9, 8, 7, 6…….]
[Logout complete.]
I opened my eyes to the familiar chime. The first thing that came into view was a dizzyingly high ceiling.
Not a wooden ceiling that reeked of old, dried grass, but a pure white ceiling made of solid alloy.
Still unable to get used to that sense of incongruity, I recalled my last memory from the modern world.
‘The training room.’
Right. This was the Peace Guild’s training room—one only a select few, including me, could access. It was from here, under top-tier security and surveillance, that I’d departed for Murim.
After a long time agonizing over it, I’d finally dealt with an important task I’d been putting off.
‘Yeah. That’s what happened.’
I stared at the ceiling in silence.
The memories and sensations from earlier were already back. Even so, I didn’t feel like getting up right away.
Murim and the modern world. The modern world and Murim.
It wasn’t rare for me to fall into a brief spell of helplessness whenever I crossed between the two worlds, but this time it was worse than usual.
‘…I went and said it.’
I’d imagined revealing my secret to someone dozens of times. Of course, I’d never actually put that imagination into practice—nor should I have.
‘Because it involved too much risk.’
But… at the same time, I’d always had a vague sense that a day like this would come. I just didn’t expect that day—something that felt like it belonged in the distant future—to be today.
– ‘What?’
Jeok Cheon-Gang’s reaction when he first heard my confession was still vivid.
He hadn’t looked shocked or doubtful. No—he hadn’t even been able to process it.
– ‘What did you just say?’
– ‘Just like I said. I come from a place much farther away than you think, Elder.’
– ‘Shanxi Province is a bit far from the Central Plains, but what does that have to do with your secret…?’
– ‘Farther. Even farther than the Southern Barbarian Region.’
– ‘Farther than the Southern Barbarian Region?’
– ‘Yes. So far you could walk your whole life and never reach it.’
– ‘Are you saying you have to go by boat?’
– ‘No. It’s not that kind of concept. It’s more accurate to say… it’s a completely different world.’
A completely different world.
And after hearing everything that came after, Jeok Cheon-Gang fell silent for a long time, trying to fit my words into something he could understand.
– ‘So if you fall asleep here, you go to the Celestial Realm?’
– ‘Not every time, but yes—unless it’s a special situation.’
– ‘Then when you want to return after staying in the Celestial Realm…’
– ‘It’s the same. And every time it happens, time moves very slowly in the other world…’
– ‘…Damn it.’
After a fierce struggle—clinging to common sense and reason with both hands—Jeok Cheon-Gang finally arrived at a single conclusion.
– ‘Damn it, I don’t understand.’
– ‘Yes?’
– ‘No matter how much I listen, I don’t understand. There are truths in this world you can’t comprehend, even if you see them with your own eyes and hear them with your own ears.’
Everything I’d told Jeok Cheon-Gang fell into that category.
And in all that confusion, there was one fact that never changed.
– ‘But the name of the idiot I’m looking at right now is Jin Taekyung. Not some Little Divine Immortal from the Celestial Realm, but the Blazing Fire Dragon, Jin Taekyung.’
– ‘…!’
– ‘That alone is enough.’
I didn’t know it then.
The moment I heard those words—why I went speechless without even realizing it. Why I had to grit my teeth to hold back the hot something that surged up inside me.
But… yes, like Jeok Cheon-Gang said, that alone was enough for me too.
And now, I felt like I finally understood it, at least a little.
I was afraid. Afraid that my life in another world—one that had already become part of me—would be denied.
‘This is ridiculous, even for a child.’
A hollow laugh slipped out. At the same time, the rock that had been lodged in one corner of my heart lifted, and everything felt strangely light.
‘Yeah, this is enough. At least for now.’
Since when had I ever lived by looking too far ahead? I chose the path I had to walk in that day, in that moment, and I came this far.
And the path I chose today was as wide and warm as a summer beach.
I’d seen it on TV. Athletes have their own routines. Some soccer players step onto the field with their left foot first, and a star major leaguer spits out sunflower seeds every time he swings his bat.
To ordinary people, it can look like they’re making a big deal out of nothing, but everyone has their own superstitions—little rituals for peace of mind and luck.
And no one is more thorough about routines and superstitions than hunters.
If you lose a soccer match, the sky doesn’t fall. If you strike out with the bases loaded, the ground doesn’t collapse.
But if a hunter is unlucky, they die on the spot. There’s no next game, no next at-bat. There’s only the moment right before death—when they replay their life, the faces of their family, and suddenly think:
‘Damn it, I should’ve worn blue underwear today.’
It sounds like a joke, but it’s a true story. It was even the last will of an A-class hunter who’d been popular a few years ago, before he died in a Gate.
‘No, was it red underwear? I can’t remember. I’ve been too busy working.’
Anyway, what matters is this: I have my own routine too—one I’d followed meticulously since graduating the hunter training center.
And that routine had just been broken.
Bang!
The door burst open like an explosion. The emergency lock was shattered, and since I’d finished my preparations a step ahead of that, I calmly greeted the uninvited guest.
“Oh my. You don’t even knock anymore—you just barge in.”
Huff. Hooo.
Staring at the intruder—panting hard, sweat running down his face, suit in disarray—I continued.
“Team Leader Choi.” (T/N: I just realized that I’ve been switching Team Leader and Chief a lot. So from now on, I will be using Team Leader unless the raw changes his title.)
Normally, it would’ve been a welcome sight, but right now I had the urge to punch that handsome face.
But Team Leader Choi—who, in name and in fact, should be called the guild leader now—didn’t notice my discomfort.
No, to be precise, he didn’t even have the time to.
“Huff. Hooo.”
‘Did he get chased by a Demon King or something?’
Team Leader Choi, who was now no less formidable than any top expert in the Central Plains, finally managed to catch his breath. Then he thrust forward what he was holding and shouted.
“What is this? What is this!”
“If you don’t have anything to say, come back later… Ah. That?”
“That? That! Is this something you can brush off that easily!”
‘Berserk button: ON.’
At Team Leader Choi’s reaction—looking like he might faint from my casual response—I realized two things.
First, I was going to have to break the essential routine I’d followed every day.
Second, I had no choice but to explain that “thing” right now.
“Calm down, calm down. I’ll tell you everything, so put that down first, and… what would you like to drink?”
“Jin Taekyung. Isn’t what to drink the least important thing right now…?”
“I’ll just give you coffee. You know, that tiger poop coffee you gave me last time, as a gift for the office opening.”
“Huh.”
“Is that okay?”
Team Leader Choi stared at me with an expression caught between shock and bewilderment, then collapsed onto the sofa.
In his trembling hands were a stack of papers—covered in my own handwriting.
[Smiling Mana Cultivation Method]
It was still a masterpiece, even when I looked at it again.
Team Leader Choi was definitely from a wealthy family.
He’d been huffing and puffing like a minotaur with its horns ripped out just moments ago, but after one whiff of the rich coffee aroma, he regained his composure.
I found myself sniffing too, for no reason.
“Does tiger poop coffee have some kind of calming effect? Or is that just Team Leader Choi’s routine or something?”
Team Leader Choi answered in a cold voice.
“It’s not a tiger. It’s a civet cat.”
“Tiger or cat. Anyway.”
“And say ‘feces,’ not ‘poop.’ There’s also the word ‘excretion.’”
“Feces. Or excretion.”
“Yes. So stop saying poop.”
“I think you’ve forgotten, but it’s almost dinner time. If you keep saying poop in front of people like that…”
“Poop.”
As the atmosphere steadily turned into poop, Team Leader Choi was the first to back down.
“Fine. That’s not important right now.”
Thinking back on it, it was ridiculous. I swallowed my regret and calmed my sharpened thoughts.
Team Leader Choi had broken the routine I swore by, but if we were being honest, I was the one who caused all of this.
[Smiling Mana Cultivation Method]
In the first place, anyone—not just Team Leader Choi—would’ve come running the moment they saw something like this. Even if it had been the President of the United States, that wouldn’t have changed.
“Given the circumstances, I’ll ask directly.”
His voice trembled slightly. Team Leader Choi stared at me and continued.
“This… no, this Mana Cultivation Method. Where did it come from?”
I answered without hesitation.
“Who else would it be? The person you’re looking at right now.”
“I made it myself. From beginning to end.”
A suffocating silence fell.
Team Leader Choi stared at me with shaking eyes, then finally let out the breath he’d been holding.
“Hoo.”
“Why are you so surprised? Didn’t the errand runner I sent explain it to you?”
Of course, he wasn’t just some errand runner.
Even if he was a little crazy, the Skeleton King was a powerful Named Monster, secretly active as a hidden S-class hunter of the Peace Guild.
‘And more importantly, he’s trustworthy.’
Team Leader Choi—who knew that better than anyone—let out a dry chuckle.
“He was too much for an errand runner.”
“That’s why I entrusted it to him. I was going to hand it to you myself, but you happened to be away.”
“…I had somewhere to stop by.”
Team Leader Choi kept his words short, and I didn’t bother asking where he’d been.
The empty seat of the person who’d suddenly disappeared from everyone’s side two months ago still held a lingering warmth.
Just like the coffee cup Team Leader Choi still hadn’t touched.
“I heard what you told the Skeleton King—no, Mr. King. But I’m sorry…”
“From your perspective, you had to verify it at least once.”
“Yes. But the moment I saw what was inside—before I even heard the explanation—I was convinced. Jin Taekyung is the only person in the world who could create a Mana Cultivation Method like this.”
At his praise, I scratched the back of my head awkwardly.
“Hey, don’t exaggerate. Sure, I put a lot of thought into making it easy for beginners to learn…”
“There aren’t many S-class hunters who can write this badly, and there aren’t many people with this kind of naming sense.”
“Yeah?”
“And there’s someone who manages to do both at the same time? I don’t need to think any further.”
“Thanks to you, I realized it. This Mana Cultivation Method was made by one person and one person only—by Jin Taekyung.”
I stared back and forth between Team Leader Choi’s confident face and the [Smiling Mana Cultivation Method] lying on the table.
And I thought:
‘What the hell is this.’
‘Should I just tear up the Mana Cultivation Method—and everything else, too?’