Free Web NovelNo one knows when Lee Haeng-taek put on Jeong Dae-kyung’s shell.
Pyo Won-sang and Woo Min-hee both believe that the current Lee Haeng-taek is Jeong Dae-kyung.
Only one thing is certain.
The second Jeong Dae-kyung’s eyes held the same hollow glow as Woo Min-hee’s.
In the midst of confusion, the train arrived at the second Shangri-La.
This second Shangri-La most closely resembled the vision we had drawn when we departed from Seoul.
Tatata-ta-tang!! Tang! Tang!
Gunfire and shelling erupted from every direction. The sounds of sabotage on the tracks, engines of tanks, and the buzzing of drones filled the air.
And then—
“Attention approaching train. This is our territory. Therefore, your passage is not authorized.”
A human who hated us.
“If you want to force your way through, go ahead. But be prepared to stake your lives. After all, we’re soldiers too, even if just scraps.”
A hostile military warlord.
*
The National Defense Forces were originally a regional reserve unit formed around rear areas when the war crisis loomed.
As the war entered a lull and the Chinese military shifted from direct assaults to an indefinite blockade of trade routes, the National Defense Forces gradually became more independent and locally rooted.
It was all but inevitable that, once the Republic of Korea government decided to abandon the mainland, the regional units under the National Defense Forces would evolve into warlord factions.
The Southeastern Command, excluding the special-case Jeju Command, was the last to transition into a warlord faction.
The reason being, it was home to the heavy industry production bases and power facilities essential to Jeju. Until the mainland was fully abandoned, the government clung to the Southeastern Command to keep it functional.
Once the Yangsan Rift zone rapidly eroded, the Southeastern Command was forgotten—but now, long after, a military unit waving the same flag stood before us.
“Someone named Lieutenant General Sim Yu-gyeong is in command.”
Since this wasn’t a minor issue, I listened to a military briefing from inside the command car.
While Ha Tae-hoon worked with military forces on the front lines, the ultimate commander of the soldiers stationed on this train was Colonel Cha In-seop—a thin, bespectacled officer.
He looked like the typical desk-bound strategist, but in reality, he was a commander known for his recklessly aggressive tactics. Records say he sped from Pyongyang to Sinuiju in a single day to stop the advancing Chinese troops at the border. Without that kind of record, he wouldn’t have been granted the honor of heading to Jeju.
In any case, Colonel Cha In-seop was well-acquainted with Sim Yu-gyeong.
“He’s two classes behind me and now he’s a lieutenant general. Still, I’ll give him this—he’s modest. Used to be the kind to constantly send anonymous reports to get ahead, but it seems he’s satisfied with that rank.”
No surprise there—Colonel Cha had briefly worked in personnel and had even managed the accounts for the officers’ social club.
In short, he was deeply connected throughout the officer corps.
That network was likely one of the reasons Pyo Won-sang chose him.
“The original commander was Major General Park Min-gyu, but if Sim Yu-gyeong—who was just a lieutenant colonel two years ago—is now wearing stars and using the command’s name, it’s safe to assume Park Min-gyu is dead.”
Even among warlords, there are levels.
Some rule entire metropolitan regions like kings, while others survive by forcing children into slave labor just to get by.
The best way to classify these diverse warlords is by their pre-war military rank.
If a warlord’s rank was high before the collapse, it means they lost less power during their transition.
And if a warlord wore stars even before the war, they’re considered top-tier.
A junior officer pretending to be a general just doesn’t hold sway—their influence is inevitably weak.
By that metric, the warlord blocking our path was mid-level at best.
“They appear to have a force of about a thousand. Sim Yu-gyeong was stationed near the Yangsan Rift and seems to have consolidated his remaining troops and merged with other brigades to form his current regional faction. He’s got no real connection to the Southeastern Command.”
This level of warlord poses no significant threat to the Korean government—but here, the situation is different.
We’re on a train.
The train can only follow its tracks.
In other words, our direction is fixed.
Even if they’re only a mid-tier warlord, if they know where we’re coming from and block that path, they can deal significant damage.
Especially in mountainous terrain.
If they really intend to obstruct us, we’ll inevitably suffer serious losses.
But they’re not monsters—they’re humans.
Which means negotiation is possible.
Besides, with so many others eyeing Shangri-La, picking a fight with a major power like us would only mean heavy losses—not just in lives, but in ammunition and equipment.
“Let’s wait one day. Their first-day bluster is likely just a bluff. Classic negotiation tactic—come out hard at first to angle for better terms later.”
Having someone like him around is a rare opportunity.
Before the meeting ended, I waited in the hallway. When he approached, I greeted him.
“Hello.”
Cha In-seop recognized me too.
Online, I’m a legendary name, but even in real life, the name Park Gyu is too well-known for the New Seoul government to ignore.
His reaction to the unexpected contact wasn’t hostile—at the very least.
After all, our domains are unrelated; we’ve no reason for conflict or friction.
I asked him,
“Excuse me, I have something to ask.”
“Oh? Is that so?”
He checked his watch.
He likely had more meetings lined up.
“It’s nothing major. Just a brief question.”
Cha issued a few quiet instructions to his aide.
The aide nodded and exited the train ahead.
As soon as the aide was gone, I asked,
“Do you know Colonel Jeong Dae-kyung?”
“Colonel Jeong Dae-kyung?”
I purposely referred to him as colonel.
“I mean the one who recently sent us that message.”
“You mean General Jeong Dae-kyung? Yes. I know him.”
A smart man’s words tend to converge like roots to a trunk.
But the subject of Jeong Dae-kyung is not something easily hidden with defensive language.
I looked him straight in the eyes and asked,
“Is he really Colonel Jeong Dae-kyung?”
For a split second, Cha In-seop’s gaze wavered.
A minuscule crack—but it was there. He faltered.
Of course, this might just be wishful thinking on my part.
But if anyone would know, it’d be Cha In-seop.
He knew the sharp officer who guarded Paju and moved to Jeju, wishing for his family’s happiness.
“I don’t know what you’re implying, but that man is General Jeong Dae-kyung.”
He excused himself and left.
I didn’t expect an answer from the start.
Lee Haeng-taek and Jeong Dae-kyung. Jeong Dae-kyung and Lee Haeng-taek.
They’ve been merged for some time now.
There’s no denying a larger force is at play behind it all.
*
The next day, the warlord contacted us.
Just as Cha In-seop predicted.
The fierce opening attack had only been a performance to gain leverage in negotiations.
Negotiation was inevitable.
We were pressed for time, and fighting a warlord entrenched in a strategic chokepoint would only cost lives, gear, and time.
When Pyo Won-sang readily approved the negotiations, the warlord side said they’d send someone over.
That was expected.
What we didn’t expect—was who they asked for.
Woo Min-hee.
“How the hell did they know I was on board?”
Not impossible.
There are hundreds of passengers.
It’s not like we’re ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) in a post-war, no-communication era.
The Necropolis transmission allows unlimited information exchange at any time.
And anyone riding this train probably knows Woo Min-hee is here.
The real issue is the warlord’s intentions.
“Senpai.”
Woo Min-hee is already aware.
So am I.
Chances are, the warlord’s problem is less about people and more about monsters.
We call them infiltrators—small types. They favor large factories, power plants, and warehouses.
It’s not that they understand human strategic value; they just prefer large, roofed spaces where they can form their mazes.
That means giant factories, distribution centers, power plants.
In urban areas, it’d be malls, department stores, construction sites.
Whatever the reason, we can’t send out Woo Min-hee.
“I’ll handle it.”
In many ways, Woo Min-hee is the most cornered of us all.
She stands at the crossroads between human and monster. I won’t force this mission on her.
“So Director Woo can’t attend?”
One of Pyo Won-sang’s subordinates looked troubled.
For them, this was a matter of life and death.
Not knowing Woo Min-hee’s full story, they might be annoyed that she’s refusing to act.
Fortunately, I have bargaining power now.
“I’ll go instead.”
Even as an Old School Hunter, I am the only human who ever killed a so-called General-type—the nemesis of humankind.
That moment was broadcast across the world.
Even if I’m not Awakened, I don’t think I’m unqualified.
Soon enough, Pyo Won-sang’s side replied that my attendance was acceptable.
“Thanks, senpai.”
Woo Min-hee bowed weakly with a smile. fгeewebnovёl.com
I smirked and said,
“No need to thank me. I have personal stakes in this too.”
“Like what?”
I grinned faintly and left the answer hanging.
After all, in Woo Min-hee’s world, Jeong Dae-kyung means that over-level-10 Awakened waiting for us near Gyeongju.
At least when it comes to that name, her world and mine are completely different.
Soon, the warlord delegation arrived.
Four in total. Their leader wore a colonel’s insignia but looked no older than her mid-twenties.
It was easy to guess why she bore the rank.
“Oh?”
Woo Min-hee recognized her.
“Was it Jeon Eun-ha or Lee Eun-ha? Whatever—she was stationed in Yangsan, right? Back then she was just a clueless baby. Looks like she’s been through hell now.”
She was a regular Awakened assigned to the Yangsan Rift.
“Since Sim Yu-gyeong was defending that area, maybe he pulled her in when they retreated.”
In warlord groups, mixing soldiers and Hunters is natural.
They might treat Hunters like slaves, as the first Shangri-La did, but Awakened are too valuable for that.
A single regular Awakened is considered a tactical unit in and of themselves.
According to NATO doctrine, one regular Awakened equals a full infantry company.
So even if warlord factions hand out stars like candy, it’s no surprise they gave a twenty-something rookie a colonel’s insignia.
Her name was indeed Jeon Eun-ha, just as Woo Min-hee guessed.
“We’re having monster-related difficulties.”
As expected, the issue was monsters.
“A mid-sized monster group has taken over the hydroelectric plant. If you help us eliminate them, we won’t have reason to remain hostile toward the Republic of Korea. The government abandoned us. That’s why we turned. If they help us again, we’re willing to move past it.”
She was young, but clearly had been through hell transitioning from army to warlord.
Her speech was unnaturally stiff, her eyes cold and hostile, lips pressed tight, and her missing left ear—hidden beneath long hair—told the rest of the story.
For a regular Awakened, such physical damage means the battle was brutal.
Throughout the meeting, Jeon Eun-ha kept glancing around—clearly searching for someone. After three rounds of scanning, she asked,
“Is Director Woo Min-hee not here?”
Pyo Won-sang looked to me.
I answered instead.
“That’s right.”
Her cold gaze snapped to me.
“And you are?”
I don’t wear a nametag.
“Park Gyu.”
Of course, my name isn’t as famous as Skelton.
The name Park Gyu is something only a few high-level officials knew—before and after the war.
The confusion in her eyes was expected.
But I had another name—less famous than Skelton, but still known.
I looked Jeon Eun-ha in the eye and calmly spoke the name that once defined me.
“Call sign: Professor.”
A look of joy bloomed across her cold gaze—like a flower blooming.
“Professor!?”
She shot to her feet.
I was slightly puzzled.
Professor is a legend among Old School Hunters, sure—but to the Awakened, he's basically a relic to be buried.
There’s no reason for an Awakened to react like a fanboy to that name.
So this level of excitement was hard to understand—until she said:
“You’re really Skelton?!”
“······.”
So that’s what this is.
