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Chapter 173: Episode 35_A Feint in the East, a Strike in the West (1)

1.

Even so, Kardian was a dragon. She might be a dragon in na only now, but she wasn’t about to let a re human see that she was rattled. Proudly. Elegantly. Loftily. She might have ruined her life by signing that contract, joining the ranks of the damned, but she would not lose her dignity.

“Hey. Get over here.”

“No!”

“No?”

“Do not treat

like the other slaves, human!”

“Oh?”

“I am a dragon!”

You could lose your country, but not your identity. Even if she had beco a human’s slave, if she held on to her pride, surely the day would co when he acknowledged her. What was the bastard going to do, kill her? He needed sothing from her, which was why he hadn’t killed her and had bound her with a vow.

Her sharp mind had helped her get this far. The problem was that she had thought a little too much.

“Yeah? Then forget it.”

“...What?”

“You’re the one breaking the vow, then?”

“......”

Han Simin didn’t think for long. He sotis agonized deeply over money-related issues, but for things like this, he just did whatever ca to mind. Why worry about the aftermath in a ga? It wasn’t like it could ever really hurt him.

Above all, he had guts. ’What are you gonna do about it?’ He had an uncanny instinct for recognizing when he was holding all the cards and exploiting that position to its absolute fullest.

Kardian, who had been so full of herself, faltered. In the end, her weakness was the vow. A vow she had staked her life on. No, dying would have been better. If she broke the vow, a dragon’s fate was to beco a powerless lizard. Could a sentient dragon endure that kind of existence? There would be nothing left but a pain worse than death.

The future was especially terrifying when you had never experienced it. The horror stories passed down from the elder dragons had been exaggerated and etched into her mind. Humans and dragons alike warned their children not to sign contracts lightly.

“F-fine. I’ll go!”

In the end, Kardian surrendered. It was hardly a dignified surrender; with her shoulders slumped, she trudged over in her loose robe and stood before Han Simin. She looked so much like a dejected puppy that the Specialists couldn’t help but smile like doting mothers.

“She’s seriously gorgeous, Seolah.”

“Are all dragons this pretty?”

Even won enjoyed looking at a beautiful woman. Kang Yeseul and Jeong Seolah, who had lived their whole lives without envying anyone, couldn’t help but gasp in admiration. And this woman was being bossed around like a dog by Han Simin. Along with the joy of being able to see such beauty up close, they also felt a pang of pity.

“Hang in there,” Yeseul said sympathetically. “Life or dragon life, it’s all the sa crap anyway.”

“If you just listen to him, Mr. Simin is actually nice,” Seolah added. “He’ll treat you well.”

“Hey, that’s not true, Seolah.”

“That’s only because you’re always ssing with him.”

“Hah. This looks-obsessed world, I swear.”

Their words of comfort did nothing to comfort Kardian. To be treated like this by humans! Just a few hundred years ago, she could never have even imagined...

“Hey, stop clenching your fist and stand right here if you’re not gonna hit . Next to .”

“...Yes, Master.”

At Han Simin’s words, she obediently took her place. Her lips were jutting out and her stance was crooked, but he could forgive that much. He imdiately turned on his stream. He hadn’t gone live in a while. More accurately, he hadn’t had the ntal bandwidth to do it.

Reflecting on that, Han Simin greeted the viewers who flooded in as if they had been waiting.

“Hello. Today’s stream is only going to be ten minutes.”

It was a brazen announcent if there ever was one. For viewers who had just sat through several minutes of ads, it was an outrageous declaration.

– What the hell. I sit through ads and the stream’s only ten minutes?

– Then why even go live?

– He must be doing sothing important?

– Ah. My $100...

– This stream’s problem is this. He never writes anything in the title. Co on. It’s not a lottery.

Naturally, the complaints were fierce.

– Feels like this strear’s lost his roots. Ever since he started putting in ads, he plays them whenever he feels like it, and now he’s charging 100k for a 10-minute stream, tsk tsk.

– You have been kicked from the channel.

Of course, the absolute rule of this channel hadn’t changed, so those complaints vanished quickly.

If you were going to watch, you watched. That was Han Simin’s unshakable “original intention.” Viewers still rembered how he had no qualms about flipping a stream with tens of thousands of viewers to paid-only, so they swallowed their dissatisfaction—half willingly, half by force.

’Fine. We already paid to get in; might as well see what he’s doing. It has never been boring so far, anyway.’

– No way he’s giving refunds. Even if you sued and won, he’d just extend the stream a bit.

– Let’s just watch. There’s gotta be a reason he can charge 100k for 10 minutes.

By the ti public opinion had cald down, the tir Han Simin had started was already past the five-minute mark. He had been sitting calmly, munching popcorn, and only then did he get to his feet.

“Today, I’m going to introduce a new companion who joined

while I couldn’t stream. That’s also why I’m keeping this short. Well, rather than just a companion, I guess you’d call her a slave who’ll be doing my dirty work? Hey, get over here.”

With those shaless words, he yanked Kardian over by the hand. Her posture was as rude as ever. Her head was tilted defiantly toward the sky, her hands twisted together, and her body hidden beneath a thick robe—the Black Dragon.

– Gasp!

– ......

– Wh-who is that?

People were stunned. And when the remaining ti ticked down to two minutes, the viewer count exploded. It was like a celebrity had suddenly appeared on a personal stream. No, it was more than that. Kardian was that kind of presence.

If a celebrity made you think, ’Wow, they’re pretty. Do people like that really exist?’ then Kardian made you think, ’If elves were real, they’d look like that.’

Her flawless, milky skin and red lips drew the eye without effort. By the ti your gaze slid down her neck, her exposed collarbones were enough to make you swallow, then drool. Everything below that was artfully hidden by the robe, leaving the rest to the viewers’ imaginations.

“n, honestly...” Kang Yeseul shook her head, watching Han Simin rake in another hundred million won in viewer fees just by putting a dragon on screen for five minutes.

The stream was already off, and Han Simin, his hand resting on Kardian’s shoulder, was patting her head as if she’d done a good job. If the Specialists hadn’t been chaebol heirs themselves, they would have died of jealousy-induced stomachaches a hundred tis over watching him squeeze every last drop of value out of her from the very start.

“Simin, let

be on stream too. We can split the profits fifty-fifty.”

Of course, more was better. Kang Yeseul, who was still living off an allowance, pouted as she made her pitch to Han Simin.

It was a tempting offer.

“Forget it. Just focus on healing.”

“Tch.”

Her plea fell on deaf ears.

This was only the beginning of Han Simin squeezing every last drop of value out of his new assets.

“Hey, get ready. You’ve got a little mana saved up, right?”

“...What?”

“You do, punk. The little stash you’ve been squirreling away to stab

in the back.”

She remained silent.

“What good is having a dragon as a slave if I can’t even win the Guild Selection Tournant?”

Goosebumps prickled Kardian’s skin.

She didn’t know exactly what he had in mind, but she had a feeling it would be incredibly difficult, exhausting, and dangerous.

Clinging to a faint hope, she checked the mana inside her body.

The mana that had been completely drained when she made the pact responded, however slightly, to her call.

’It never gathered properly when I actually needed it, so why is it coming together so easily now?’

There was no point in resenting it.

The Mana Vow, now absorbed by Han Simin, made it impossible for her to refuse his “requests”—which were, in truth, orders.

2.

The Kenji Guild had fully adapted to the Mountains of the Crash.

Their combination of trial and error, vast sums of money, and sharp minds had finally produced results. And in these mountains, adaptation directly translated into higher scores in the Guild Selection Tournant.

“We’ve broken into the top 100.”

“Good work.”

“At this pace, if we keep stacking points for the remaining two weeks, we can even push into the top 80.”

“Dino did a lot of the heavy lifting.”

“Think nothing of it. If you want to aim even higher, starting a war is also an option.”

“If possible, yes. If we run into guilds we’ve already sized up, we will attack without hesitation.”

“Yes, Guild Master.”

They weren’t just upgrading their own gear; they were also aggressively recruiting NPC guilds. Most NPCs looked down on adventurers and were powerful enough on their own that they didn’t need to serve under anyone. However, there was no rule stating that only such prestigious guilds could participate in the Selection Tournant.

Just as many players joined hoping to catch a few crumbs, so did the NPCs. There were guilds with decent skill and solid fighting power that realistically had little chance of placing in the rankings.

Kenji targeted those guilds.

With money.

Of course, that approach would never earn him their perfect, unwavering loyalty, but he didn’t care. It was a relationship of convenience, anyway.

Kenji was satisfied with having climbed high enough to forge relationships with NPCs through money alone, and he made full use of it. Thanks to this, his guild had grown to the point where they could encounter NPC guilds, compare their strength, and even decide whether to eliminate them.

“We’re at the very top among the players. That’s enough.”

“It’s a sha, but we’ll have to aim for the overall top spot next ti.”

He aid high, but he didn’t get greedy. To call the top ten re “greed” was laughable. There were dozens of walls he had yet to climb, and the final one was so far away he couldn’t even see it. Staring at that peak from here felt too detached from reality.

Resting on his laurels would lead to stagnation, but this ti, Kenji chose to be satisfied.

“The number one player guild. We finally have a concrete tric.”

Number one!

He had wanted it so desperately. He’d felt that way ever since he lost first place in the level rankings—the only ranking in Fantastic World so far determined by a fair tric. From the start of the ga until that mont, the honor and pride he had so carefully guarded seed to have crashed to rock bottom.

But now, he could finally reclaim it.

Even if he was still behind on the level rankings.

“The guild rankings are far more impactful than individual rankings.”

“I suppose I’ll have to console myself with that.”

In any case, his level ranking was hardly low.

Fourth.

Fourth out of tens of millions of players.

A player of that caliber had led his guild to achieve the number one spot in the official player guild rankings. It was an astonishing achievent.

Being first in both wouldn’t even be that hard. All he had to do was grow the guild further and topple the players ranked first, second, and third.

“Let’s push a little harder for the remaining two weeks and lock this in.”

“Yes, Guild Master!”

The guild mbers responded to their leader’s resolve. No matter how much money they were being paid, it wasn’t easy to keep up with their grueling schedule without their own willpower. Endless grinding, funneling all fard items to others, and not even being allowed to fear death—who could do that if they saw it as just a job?

That unity also gave strength to the few NPCs who had joined the guild.

“It seems not all adventurers are pushovers.”

“Of course not. There’s no way they could all be like that.”

“I think we made the right choice joining this guild.”

It already felt like the Guild Selection Tournant was over. They weren’t exactly wrong. They only had to hold out for two more weeks. Even if they simply went back and waited, they could probably keep their spot in the top 100 without any trouble.

However, Kenji didn’t do that.

“What are the Specialists up to?”

“Currently, they’re outside the top 500. It seems they’re losing ti due to being outnumbered and getting bullied by other NPCs in their territory.”

“Well, that place would be rough. Still, keep an eye on them just in case.”

“Yes, Guild Master.”

The Specialists—the ones who had always ruined his plans! He didn’t forget to stay wary of them. It was a decision made in preparation for a one-in-a-million scenario.

’As if they could catch up,’ he thought, even as he took precautions.

This ti, they couldn’t.

He was certain they couldn’t.

And yet—

“Guild Master, the Specialists’ ranking has climbed 200 places since yesterday.”

“Guild Master, they’re up another 130 places from yesterday...”

“Guild Master, at this rate the Specialists will break into the top 100 tomorrow.”

With one week left, that “as if” ca back to bite him.

* * *

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