Far from Incheon's burning alleys, other cities watched and listened. Reports flowed through encrypted channels, gossip courted by informants, and satellite feeds fed a dozen private screens. The civil war that had once been whispered as a local feud had become a story that the underworld could not ignore.
On the sixty-fifth floor of a glass tower that glared down at Seoul, Charles Choi sat behind an enormous desk. The city lights below looked like a map of choice—markets, arteries, safe routes. Opposite him, Gun Park lounged with a predator's repose: half-smile, eyes that never stopped measuring. Goo Kim toyed with a pen, flicking an eyelid at the stream of live updates. All three were men who got paid to know when the world tilted.
"Incheon's getting worse," Charles said plainly, tapping a line on the map that lit the screen. "Bloodier than we expected."
"Isn't this just a civil war for the throne of Incheon?" Goo asked, curious, pulling a brow.
"Yes," Charles replied. "But not on this scale."
Gun cut in, voice low: "What scale?"
Charles flipped through feeds and reports with one motion, each image a new wound: smoke rising, barricades, bodies. "Our sources picked up international reinforcements—outsiders coming in to back Yujae Seon against Jaegyeon Na." He watched the other two closely as the words landed.
Goo leaned forward. "Why bring help from outside? Doesn't Yujae already have more manpower than the rival faction?"
"Yes." Charles's thumb paused on a photo that showed a line of black-coated soldiers. "But something happened in Incheon. Our monitors confirm: the Dark Crocodile Society lost five hundred fighters in a single day." He did not say it casually. The weight of five hundred dead sat in the room like a new, heavy piece of furniture.
For a heartbeat neither Gun nor Goo spoke. Then both of them, in the same stunned cadence, asked: "You mean one person did that? One man destroyed five hundred?"
Charles nodded once. "According to our watchers on the ground: a young man—single-handedly. Hand-to-hand. He cut through them. He killed them with his own hands. He brought absolute carnage."
"Holy—" Goo's face opened with shocked astonishment. "I didn't know we had a monster like that in our country."
Charles looked at him with a half-smile that held no mockery. "As if you aren't. You and Gun—both of you are monsters in your own right."
Goo laughed, embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah… I forget sometimes."
Gun's smile shifted. It wasn't casual anymore; it wasn't small friendly humor. It became something sharper, colder—an old man's grin that had seen a thousand gambits. Charles watched the change and the corner of his mouth tightened into a matching smirk.
"What's the name?" Gun asked, blunt and direct.
"Cheon Ma," Charles replied, reading from the stream of reports.
"Cheon Ma." Gun repeated the name, tasting it. Then he sat back, expression turning analytical. "Don't get carried away. He might be strong, but he's not as strong as you or me or James Lee. Let him think he's a monster—out here there are predators that eat other predators."
Goo tilted his head knowingly. "Then why the serious face, Chairman? You made it sound like you were worried."
Charles answered evenly. "I'm not worried about the kid himself. I'm worried because Paecheon Jo hasn't reacted like a cornered animal. He's holding back." He tapped the screen until the name came up in their dossier.
"Paecheon Jo?" Goo asked. "Who's that?"
Charles's tone grew sharper with history. "He's the former absolute master of the Dark Crocodile Society. Yujae Seon may wear the title, but Paecheon Jo pulls the strings from the shadows. To the world he's retired, but he still runs the show with iron intent."
Gun straightened, curious. "Is he strong?"
"Strong," Charles said. "He's from the 0th Generation. He's one of the Seven Stars of China." He watched the reactions on the two faces opposite him—respect and the twitch of concern.
"Seven Stars?" Goo echoed. "What are the Seven Stars?"
Charles leaned forward, voice low. "They're the seven strongest individuals of China—legends. Their power was measured against even the likes of Garypong Kim's gang back in the 0th Generation. Paecheon Jo is numbered among them."
Goo's face registered the magnitude of that name, impressed and a little pale. "So… are we asking for help? Or do we sit and watch?"
Charles gave a short, dry laugh. "No. Let them fight. Let them cut each other down. That's safer than being the first man who stands between two kings. But stay alert. A hand from Paecheon Jo could swing this whole thing in a heartbeat."
Gun's grin did not soften. If anything, it sharpened into something that could terrify—a grin like a demon or an oni, the kind that belonged to people who took satisfaction in the bloodless calculus of advantage. He said, slow and sure, "They can try. If they ever turn toward us, we'll bury them—like we've buried others."
Charles and Goo both mirrored the expression. Their faces folded into the same cold confidence; old alliances and ancient bargains hummed between them like a current. Charles nodded once. "Exactly. Let them destroy each other, but keep the ears open. When the dust settles, we take the bones we want."
Outside their skyscraper the city sparkled with ignorance and life; inside the three men watched a war from afar, their networks humming like a spider's web. Incheon burned and a name—Cheon Ma—rose like a rumor that might yet become a command. The three men sat back, smirking the way men with teeth smirk when they wait to see which way a knife will turn.