Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 159.3: Longing for Home (3)

Hiding a House in the Apocalypse-Chapter 159.3: Longing for Home (3)

The Chinese remnants’ true objective was now clear.
They intended to send nearly five thousand soldiers—and their families—back to China.
It was strange.
What awaited them in that so-called homeland was nothing but a death-colored wasteland.
Even in the Chinese archives we’d just read, there wasn’t a single viable method listed for surviving in the erosion zones.
Even Woo Min-hee once considered surviving inside a Rift, but what kept her from going through with it?
“Oh, and this might be a terribly inappropriate request,” Jiang Shuying suddenly said, changing the subject.
“There’s a monster that needs to be dealt with.”
In that moment, the wariness I had toward the Chinese resurfaced like a reflex—but what difference would it make, realizing you’re in the tiger’s mouth after it’s already closed?
“You’re the only one who can handle it, Professor.”
So all that ‘Professor this, Professor that’ was just flattery to warm me up.
If this were the old me, I would’ve refused outright without even hearing the details.
But that’s not who I am anymore.
“Is this an official request from your command?”
“No. It’s a personal favor.”
“A personal favor?”
“Yes.”
Looking her in the eye, I smiled faintly.
“Well then, Shuying.”
“Yes?”
“You’ll help me too, won’t you?”
For once, I could actually let out a smirk.
To be honest, one of the reasons I accepted her request was because of my own unshakable, pathological curiosity.
There was something I’d always wanted to try at least once—
A famed Chinese Hunter weapon.
The Chinese called their Hunter weapons suryeokgu, or hunting tools.
One of those was in my hand now.
“This is the Chu-ko-nu, right?”
To summarize: a wrist-mounted triple-burst explosive bolt launcher, guided by eye movement.
It consisted of a near-futuristic gauntlet launcher and a scope that tracked ocular motion.
“Yes. That’s the Chu-ko-nu. One of the last three left.”
The specs were impressive—clearly a lot of money had gone into it.
Each mini rocket, weighing just about a kilogram, calculated its own trajectory right before launch using a built-in processor. After being fired, it flew toward its target based on that calculation.
It wasn’t built that way due to technological limitations, but rather to counter the strange, unknown abilities of certain monsters.
“Most late-series suryeokgu were designed like this. In a sense, it’s the most honest form of ‘fire-and-forget.’”
I tested the scope, which was shaped like a pair of goggles.
The Chinese text annoyed me a bit, but the UI was intuitive.
It worked like a fighter pilot’s helmet, locking onto targets based on my gaze.
As I looked between Jiang Shuying and Cheon Young-jae, rectangular targeting indicators appeared over both their faces.
“Oh.”
Honestly, I was impressed.
“How is it?”
As expected, Jiang Shuying asked with a subtle tone of pride. But my thoughts weren’t entirely positive.
This tech—
Wasn’t it derived from the same face-recognition cameras they used to monitor their own citizens?
Still, whatever.
It was fun to see.
Then I spotted something unexpected.
“What’s this?”
A Qinglong Yanyue Dao-looking thing.
With a rocket attached to the end.
Did China have their own version of Jang Ki-young?
While I was thinking that, Jiang Shuying chuckled awkwardly.
“Oh, that one? We don’t use it anymore.”
I knew it.
“What kind of weapon is °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° it?”
“It was meant for melee against large types... but it didn’t work out.”
“Why a Qinglong Dao?”
“Well, it was kind of a trend among Chinese Hunters at one point. And really, it’s easier to mount a propulsion system on a polearm than on a broad blade.”
After saying that, she quietly pushed the weapon off into a corner.
She’d been subtly proud when we first entered the armory, but it seemed this weapon was still an embarrassment.
Honestly, no sane person would use something like that in actual combat.
“Excuse me.”
“Yes?”
“Once this is all over, can I take this weapon with me?”
“Huh? Why that one?”
“Is that not allowed?”
She gave a bright smile.
“Please. Take it.”
“Thanks.”
“And pick another you like while you’re at it.”
“The Chu-ko-nu too?”
“No. Not that one.”
“Aww.”
“?”
Having confirmed that my surprise charm had no effect, I exited the armory like nothing happened.
A swift and wise decision.
Some organizations remain opaque until you’re inside them.
The Ku Klux Klan, once a formidable force in North America, turned out to be so ridiculous in concept that even children’s cartoons wouldn't reference them anymore. Or the Soviet Union—once feared for its steel curtain and god-tier tech—ended up collapsing like a terminal patient.
The Chinese remnants were just as messy.
As Ma Huaping explained, this wasn’t a structured unit. It was a ragtag group of defeated soldiers forced to band together.
There were as many factions as there were unit patches.
The Marines stayed with the Marines, the Army stuck to itself, and even within the same unit, subgroups existed. The rescued Navy sailors huddled together by ship or command post.
Even among Hunters—Jiang Shuying, who brought me here, came from the Shanghai faction. Meanwhile, Baitou, the Qinglong Dao wielder, was from the Beijing faction.
Different factions didn’t cooperate.
They didn’t even talk.
Some Chinese soldiers couldn’t understand each other’s dialects.
Ma Huaping might have been their leader, but he had no real authority.
With all this infighting, both the warmongers and peace advocates ended up agreeing that returning to China was better. So they started preparing ships.
The monster Jiang Shuying requested I deal with was located in a coastal district with several small- to mid-sized ship repair companies clustered together.
Covered dry docks could be seen scattered throughout. Naturally, there was no sign of human life.
“I thought you had whole Hunter units. Why do you need help with a small-type?”
Jiang Shuying lowered her head.
“I’m sorry.”
Still bowing, she added:
“There are many Hunters, but I’m the only one willing to deal with this one.”
She nodded again.
“...I have friends here.”
She pointed to a corner of the road.
Small stone markers stood like gravestones.
They bore strange glyphs that resembled Chinese radicals.
Anyone who played Radical Poker might’ve been able to read them.
“Friends?”
She nodded.
“Childhood friends.”
Her glowing, sorrowful eyes gazed out toward the West Sea.
“They all wanted to get out of here.”
She wasn’t the only one.
Everyone wanted to leave this dreary, hostile land—full of bitter strangers and broken lives.
In one of the dry docks nearby, I spotted a sleek sailing yacht.
With basic navigation skills, a yacht like that could cross the sea without much fuel.
They planned to sail up the Yangtze, through the shattered Shanxia Dam, deep into China’s interior.
It was a perfect plan.
The yacht was in excellent condition, and true to the People's Army’s lousy security standards, it was stocked with supplies.
With a few quick preparations, they could’ve returned home.
But they didn’t see the capsule tucked in the corner of the dry dock.
“Of all things, it was a Dancer-type. If it had been anything else, they all could’ve made it out...”
It was pathetic.
That such a large group couldn’t even handle a single Dancer-type so close by.
Maybe the reason they longed for their already ruined homeland was simply that they’d given up finding hope here.
I did a brief scout.
Few minions. Light defenses.
Maybe the sea salt had slowed the erosion, or something else was inhibiting the spread.
Either way, I began the operation.
The Dancer-type was one of the most extreme monsters.
If you’re unprepared, you don’t even get to move. But with the right setup, it’s one of the easiest to hunt.
All it takes is the courage to dive into the monster’s reflex shield radius—faster than any human.
“We can handle this ourselves.”
I had considered using Jiang Shuying, but it wasn’t necessary.
Honestly, she’d only get in the way.
Chinese Hunters follow different rules.
Where we draw minions out and thin their numbers, they don’t.
If there are a lot of minions, they throw in even more Hunters—force against force.
Their doctrine says minions are the monster’s alarm system. If you kill them before the monster reacts, you’ve got a clean shot.
And maybe they’re right.
No one’s disproven it.
Of course, there are complaints—are Hunter lives expendable?
But the Chinese response is simple:
“If we hesitate for even a second, a thousand of our compatriots die.”
Hard to argue with that.
China’s monster population was on a different scale entirely.
But this is Korea.
We’re different.
Bang! Tatatat!
I carefully peeled away the minions’ armored hides.
Whether they’re at full strength or not doesn’t matter.
We always assume they are.
Bang! Bang!
While we chipped away at the minions, Cheon Young-jae nudged me.
“Park-sunbae. Look over there. We’ve got an audience.”
Chinese soldiers.
This cramped place filled up quick at the sound of gunfire.
And among them was Baitou, our old friend.
I looked at Jiang Shuying.
“Can we keep going?”
She nodded.
Bang! Bang!
We lured out and dispatched the minions. I signaled Cheon Young-jae.
I was going in alone.
I wanted to try that Chinese Hunter weapon.
Inside the dry dock, within a small patch of erosion-tinted gray, the Dancer-type crouched motionless.
I stared.
BOOM.
It stared back.
Even before the aftershock of that pressure wave faded, it rose.
I sprinted out of the dry dock at full speed.
I could’ve fired the Chu-ko-nu right there, but the yacht was still directly beneath it.
Once outside, the Dancer-type launched itself after me, bladed limbs piercing the earth with each stride.
I aimed.
The scope locked cleanly onto its torso.
I pulled the trigger.
Whirrrrr—
Three mini-rockets fired near-simultaneously from my wrist.
“...”
Something was wrong.
They soared past the monster, spiraling uselessly into the air.
No need to check again.
They were duds.
Rather than cling to fleeting hope, I immediately ditched the scope and launcher—and drew my axe.
Shing—
Should I have fired earlier?
Should I have pulled the trigger even if the yacht got wrecked?
All those regrets came flooding in during the blink of an eye.
Screeeeech—
The Dancer-type’s drill-like forelimb lunged at me without hesitation.
“Park-sunbae!”
I heard the shouting—Cheon Young-jae, the Chinese soldiers.
But—
“...”
Was the Dancer-type... always this slow?
Back in its prime, its strikes were barely trackable, even with every sense on edge.
Now it felt sluggish. Reactable.
I shoved away the regret clouding my brain—and let hatred take over.
Whoosh—
Dodging its drill with minimal motion, I drove my axe into its joint.
CRACK!
One limb snapped. It staggered.
It didn’t feel pain. Didn’t fear.
Its other limb stabbed toward me—but this second attack only confirmed what I’d sensed.
Whoosh—
It was slower. Weaker.
Even through my axe, the resistance felt mushier.
A thought hit me.
Was this a downgrade?
Was Old School Hunters like me no longer the enemy?
Or was this a new variant, better adapted to Earth?
“...”
Doesn’t matter.
CRACK!
I survived today.
And—
CRACK!
Killed another monster.
CRACK!
This feeling—that’s what keeps me alive.
There was a minor hiccup, but the negotiations with the Chinese were a success.
Not only did I get what I wanted—I got an unexpected reward too.
Jiang Shuying apologized again and again.
“I’m really sorry. I had no idea that would malfunction. It was supposed to be our best model...”
I had a dark thought, but kept it to myself.
No need to stir the pot.
Especially not with this many Chinese soldiers around.
Their stares felt like arrows sticking into my skin.
Only one word in their murmurs stood out clearly.
“...Professor.”
“Professor...”
“...Professor...”
And from that crowd emerged a man like fate itself.
The Qinglong Dao-wielding Baitou.
Said to be the strongest among the Chinese.
With the massive blade slung across his back, he marched toward me, eyes filled with hostility.
“...”
Still not done?
Chinese persistence was infamous.
But maybe I was the one with the bias.
Baitou, who’d been glaring like he wanted me dead, suddenly grinned and held out his hand.
“Professor!”
My thoughts froze.
I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
Only after Cheon Young-jae lightly tapped my shoulder did I realize—
He was showing me respect.
I shook his hand.
The Chinese Hunter let out a booming laugh and gave a thumbs-up.
“Very cool, hey!”
At the very least, I could tell this guy was big-hearted.
Anyone who can laugh off being left strapped to a love doll all day has some real breadth of spirit.
Or maybe it was the bond of those who’d risked their lives fighting the same enemy.
Maybe that’s why I spared Baitou’s life back then.
In a way, we shared the same homeland—one called hatred of monsters.
With the Chinese looking on, we left their crumbling group behind.
The next day, a massive swarm of monsters was spotted in northern Seoul.

Chapter 159.3: Longing for Home (3)