hotmtlnovel Chapter 372: Forest Of Mists (5)
Chapter 372: Forest Of Mists (5)
It was hard to believe the skill book was something hunter Park Byeong-ha had bought; judging from the items he wore, that seemed unlikely.
Most likely—though at extremely low odds—he had hunted monsters in Ground Zero and obtained the skill book.
Even if the chance was low, as long as it wasn’t 0%, for someone’s hand that chance would become 100%.
For Park Byeong-ha, it must have been a “lucky day” when he got the skill book, but in the end it became his memorial day.
【Skill Book – Fatal Strike】
【Special Notes: Gunner-only】
【Assuming the firearm can withstand it, you can infinitely condense mana to perform a single long-range snipe.
A “Magitech Shroud” generated by the skill will hold up to a condensation of 5,000 mana, after which it becomes a matter of the firearm’s durability.
Cooldown is 10 minutes, and it cannot be reset by any means.】
“A gunner-only skill, huh... Then he really must have gotten lucky. He looks like a swordsman no matter how I see it.”
It was a bit far, but he could vaguely see the sword that must have flown when Park Byeong-ha tumbled down the slope.
If he had been a gunner, a mana-shot rifle would have been somewhere nearby—but what he saw was a sword.
He immediately pocketed the skill book.
Selling it was out of the question; he planned to learn it using a little trick.
It seemed he finally had a reason to contact the Onnuri Guild again.
Through Han Seung-hyeok, to whom he sometimes sent greetings, he could use the Baltman Dungeon like before.
‘To get real value out of this skill, a mana-shot rifle is essential. Should I ask Kim Shin-ryeong for one?’
To maximize the firepower of Fatal Strike, he would need to condense a large amount of mana.
The more condensed mana, the more destructive the firepower—so he needed a good gun.
Off-the-shelf items might not handle it, so custom work was mandatory.
For that kind of job, Kim Shin-ryeong was the obvious specialist.
Alternatively, through Kang Bok-hwa, he could check whether there were product lines circulating for modified mana-shot rifles.
He took only the effects needed to identify Park Byeong-ha and climbed back up the slope.
One might expect the Celestial Assassin to ask what he found or picked up out of curiosity, but he stayed silent.
Instead, he brought up another topic.
“Seeing corpses out here is so common that after a few times, you stop feeling much.”
“I can imagine.”
“At first you hustle to retrieve them, hoping the dead might return to their families late if nothing else. But repeat that enough, and you get tired.”
“We’re not here to do body recovery. I agree.”
“In any case, the dead you gathered will have been blessed if only for rotting in peace. Out here, leaving no trace at all is normal.”
“I didn’t see signs of being chewed by beasts. It looked like natural decomposition.”
“Kang-hoo.”
“Yes, Master.”
“If you have a skill that can search for dead hunters’ bodies, could you conduct a more thorough search?”
What followed from the Celestial Assassin went in a direction Kang-hoo had not expected.
He had seemed uninterested in body recovery, but suddenly asked whether he could look for more.
Why? There was clearly a behind-the-scenes story attached to this, so Kang-hoo asked back.
“Could you tell me the reason?”
“Moon Hyeong-seo. You know him, right?”
“Very well. How could I not know the bodyguard who shadows Master K like his own shadow?”
“His younger cousin came north of Ground Zero and went missing. They say he chased a Black Shadow and then vanished.”
They used the word missing, but it was closer to “death without a recovered body.” Death unconfirmed, that was all.
A Black Shadow was a wraith whose main habitat was north of Ground Zero—hostile to the Black Guide.
The two wraith factions fought each other, but when the unwelcome guest called “hunter” appeared, they joined hands to prey on him.
In other words, Moon Hyeong-seo’s cousin might have been ambushed by a Black Guide while chasing a Black Shadow.
The difficulty in finding the body was likely due to the Black Shadow’s “spatial isolation” ability.
After kidnapping, he could have been dragged far from the scene and murdered—one couldn’t rule that out.
“He didn’t go missing here. But we combed the last known area thoroughly and still found no trace.”
“At present, it seems like a frustrating situation where we can’t pin down a location, Master.”
“Right. Like looking for a needle in the sand. But you, at least, might have a magnet.”
“Understood, Master. I’ll keep scanning while we travel.”
“I’m asking a favor. Hyeong-seo looks like he has neither blood nor tears, but when it’s about his cousin, he still bawls his eyes out.”
“I had no idea—he’s never shown it.”
“Like you, he hates showing weakness. Especially to someone who feels similar—like you—he wouldn’t want to bring up a soft spot.”
“Well... I get it.”
Kang-hoo nodded.
His master had asked, and he also maintained a decent relationship with Moon Hyeong-seo.
He sincerely hoped he could help.
Holding memorial rites without even finding the body left lingering pain and regret for the living.
He wished for a chance—soon—to lighten Moon Hyeong-seo’s heart, even a little.
After that, they continued moving north with no major issues.
There were minor fights, but they were closer to fun than tension. There was no crisis whatsoever.
Along the way, Kang-hoo learned from the Celestial Assassin about variables that plants could cause.
As in the Forest of Mists, he learned methods to identify hostile plants’ traits and string them up first, and for the non-hostile ones, he gathered tip after tip for seeing through their camouflage.
As a result, even without relying on the Empathy – Plants skill, he could easily discern plant traits.
He could then use Empathy as a final confirmation. If their conclusions overlapped, that was the answer.
He also studied special-type plants at the same time.
For example, he learned what environments plants like Solarkium grew in, and the exact conditions necessary for generating Mad Solarkium.
Even just knowing that, he could massively narrow down potential locations for Mad Solarkium in uncharted lands.
He also learned a recipe for a non-toxic emergency analgesic that could be improvised in a pinch.
“Baekseoncho, Umyeongcho, Yunhyang Tree, and a little Solarkium. Depending on the mix ratio of these four ingredients, it becomes either an analgesic or a paralytic. Watch closely.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Baekseoncho is the key. Up to this ratio, it’s an analgesic. It makes you forget the pain but keeps your senses.”
“I’ll remember.”
“But if you add about this much more, from that point it becomes a paralytic. There’s no analgesic effect, and the body locks up.”
While the Celestial Assassin explained the mix ratios, the amounts he adjusted were just about the maximum you could pinch between thumb and forefinger.
You couldn’t leisurely measure out exact weights in the field.
That was why eyeballing was important—and Kang-hoo found that part far from easy.
Even so, he stubbornly absorbed the knowledge needed to make both analgesics and paralytics.
In general, most analgesics on the market—nine times out of ten—were narcotics, and the rest were too expensive.
As for paralytics, the recipes themselves weren’t well known; they were only sold as finished products.
Supply wasn’t high either, and there were few reasons to use a paralytic.
If there was a hunter you needed to kill, you just killed him—no need to take the trouble to dose him first.
But sometimes, for strategic reasons, you needed to capture a target alive—so Kang-hoo deemed it necessary.
Or when you needed to extract information from a target.
If he was dead, you couldn’t get answers; if you immobilized him, you could take the answers through interrogation.
“Now, you try it. I’ve removed all the Baekseoncho. I’ll measure out the rest myself; you add Baekseoncho to match the analgesic ratio. Understood?”
“Yes, Master.”
Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.
With brisk hands, the Celestial Assassin finished measuring the three ingredients and set them in separate containers.
Then, as Kang-hoo gauged the needed amount by eye and pinched up a bit of Baekseoncho between thumb and forefinger—
Daaang!
“Ghk.”
A wooden block—he hadn’t even noticed when it ended up in his master’s hand—smashed straight onto his crown.
“If you’d fed that, it’s neither analgesic nor paralytic—it’s death. What on earth were you looking at just now? Focus.”
“I’m sorry, Master.”
“Treat a ‘small lesson’ lightly and you’ll be in for it. Nothing escapes my eyes, so don’t be sloppy.”
Judging by how much feeling he’d put into it, the thump still burned on his crown. His face, too, felt hot by sympathy.
“Keuk-keuk.”
Hearing Ju Haemi’s laughter behind him made the embarrassment surge all the more.
But everything was part of the learning process. Embarrassment was a good stimulus that kept you from repeating the same mistake.
Kang-hoo adjusted the amount and picked up Baekseoncho again, in a quantity different from before, but...
Daaang!
“Urk.”
It struck his crown hard enough that all he could do was squeeze out a dying groan.
Another hit or two and he’d have a hole clean through the top of his head.
And so the day set while he learned diverse plant ecologies and pharmaceutical mix methods from the Celestial Assassin.
There had been few battles bloody enough to count, but he had more to memorize and recall than ever, and the day passed before he knew it.
Night fell.
Kang-hoo’s party lit a fire at a suitable spot and began to make camp.
At night in Ground Zero, the yin energy grew incomparably stronger, so travel had to be avoided.
Ju Haemi went to sleep early.
But Kang-hoo and the Celestial Assassin, both known for being poor sleepers, spread a map and plunged into deep conversation.
“Master, I have a question.”
“What is it?”
“You primarily operated in China, didn’t you? How did you learn about Ground Zero?”
“Why do you think I ‘primarily operated in China’? Because I had a base there?”
“Isn’t that what most people would assume?”
“Look here—where is the guy who keeps bothering me by summoning me to Korea every time?”
He meant Master K.
Master K, who “cherished and respected” his big brother, must have frequently called him over to Korea.
Knowing the Celestial Assassin’s personality, he would have entered quietly and moved quietly—nothing for the outside world to see.
Press—
The Celestial Assassin pressed a bold dot on the map.
It was a separate map of North Korea alone; there, he dotted a big mark near Sariwon in North Hwanghae Province.
Then—
Sccccraaaape!
He drew a strong horizontal line and spoke.
“The little I know is also below this line—below Sariwon, that is.”
“Aren’t we around here right now? By your account, we haven’t crossed the line yet.”
“Right. Go a bit farther up and we enter Hoeyang County in Gangwon Province. Except for Jeju Island, the exact center of the Korean Peninsula is here! From here on is why North Korea became a land of terror.”
Hearing his master say with his own mouth that there was “no prior intel” on the area ratcheted up the tension.
Which meant, above all, that improvisation and teamwork would be crucial. It was a challenge.
The next moment, wearing a smile whose meaning he couldn’t read, the Celestial Assassin casually asked Kang-hoo:
“Want to cross the line once and see?”