Chapter 270: Chapter 270

As expected, gasps of disbelief burst out all around.

Most people reacted that way.

And Su-ho was pleased.

As I thought—everyone loves this kind of thing.

He’d planned it this way on purpose.

He had just used Overwhelm to simulate psychological stress in reality, so presenting the combat test with an avatar modeled after himself would only heighten the effect.

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason. This wasn’t a test—it was an evaluation.

If defeating me were the only way to pass, that’d be downright cruel, wouldn’t it?

Still, he didn’t just set his avatar for the sake of pressure.

Beyond appearance, Su-ho had structured the evaluation criteria in detail, based on each candidate’s class and level.

That’s why he used his own avatar.

Compared to other helper ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) players, Su-ho believed he could make a much more accurate assessment based on what he personally knew.

He continued his explanation.

“You’ll want to give it your best. The assistant program in front of you is modeled after me.”

“That just makes it worse...”

A wave of groans followed.

Su-ho was enjoying their reactions when something unexpected caught his eye.

It was none other than Park Yong.

Park Yong, who’d been glaring like he wanted to eat someone alive, was now smiling.

And not just any smile—it was the kind that naturally bubbles up from genuine joy.

What’s making him so happy?

I’ll have to see for myself.

Su-ho manipulated the system, switching perspectives to the assistant avatar assigned to Park Yong.

No need to approach him directly. The source of thɪs content is 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡•𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚⚫𝙣𝙚𝙩

This simulation didn’t rely on real-world physiques or techniques. The assistants here weren’t clones conjured by skills—they were virtual constructs created by the program.

That included Su-ho’s own avatar.

There was no need for him to personally monitor the candidates either.

The system would auto-record, assign partial scores, and log everything.

Su-ho swapped the viewpoint to Park Yong’s avatar feed.

When the switch completed and Su-ho’s vision aligned with the assistant in front of Park Yong, he confirmed it.

Park Yong was smiling.

No—he was outright beaming now.

Su-ho drew his sword and spoke.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Damn right I am. Wouldn’t you be?”

To be honest, given his demeanor up till now, Su-ho had expected silence.

But the guy answered without hesitation.

And he spoke informally—like he was talking to a program.

The reason became clear in the next sentence.

“A program like you wouldn’t understand how I feel right now.”

Park Yong thought Su-ho was just a program.

And frankly, that made sense.

Everyone else was interacting with similar helper avatars.

Su-ho actually found it convenient.

If someone as tight-lipped as Park Yong believed he was just a program, maybe he’d talk more freely than anyone else.

So Su-ho asked again.

“Ecstatic. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to cross swords with Ahn Su-ho. And to think my wish would come true this soon.”

You wanted to cross swords with me...

Hearing that left Su-ho with a strange feeling.

You haven’t changed a bit—then or now.

It made sense. Even in his past life, Park Yong had been obsessed with dueling him.

He still remembered the day they met.

After Su-ho had gained the nickname Sword Saint.

He was already a serial killer back then.

A sword-obsessed maniac—Park Yong.

More precisely, someone obsessed with mastering his own Light Sword Technique and having it recognized as the strongest.

That obsession led him to hunt down the most skilled swordsmen in the world.

Eventually, that pursuit brought him to Su-ho.

After all, Su-ho had been publicly acknowledged as the Sword Saint.

Looking back, he really was insane.

Su-ho was part of the Grand Hunter Association at the time. Their encounter could only end in two ways:

Su-ho dies, or Park Yong is defeated and captured.

And yet, he walked straight up to me on his own.

That’s what made him a lunatic—and why he’d earned the nickname Mad Sword.

He never considered anything beyond the strength of swordsmanship.

That’s why I made sure to break his spirit early during the license exam.

Park Yong raised his sword and said:

“Of course, you’re not the real Ahn Su-ho. Even if you're based on him, you’re still just a copy. But—”

“You’re the perfect testbed for analyzing his swordsmanship.”

And with that, he began to focus.

The smile that had hovered on his lips vanished completely, replaced by a deadly aura—one usually reserved for staring down monsters.

Su-ho mirrored his stance.

He had already defeated Park Yong once in his past life.

And this version wasn’t the peak Park Yong—it was a newly licensed Hunter only a few months in.

Honestly, he could have stood there casually and still toyed with him.

But Su-ho didn’t do that.

The past-life Park Yong might have deserved that treatment, but this one had approached him respectfully.

In that case, I should return the favor.

And Su-ho’s idea of respect for someone like Park Yong...

Was teaching him, just like he wished.

More precisely, guiding a still-immature swordsman down the right path.

That was what he believed to be the proper response.

Everyone had different needs and aspirations, so the way they were taught should be different too.

So Su-ho deliberately left an opening.

Su-ho almost smiled instinctively.

I’m just a program. If I show emotion, it’ll raise suspicion.

But regardless, he was impressed.

Of course Park Yong would seize on such a small gap.

Had he not, Su-ho would have been disappointed.

But the fact that he read it and struck, just as intended—it made Su-ho feel oddly proud.

As Park Yong’s blade came in, Su-ho acted like he was about to take the hit—then swiftly turned to exploit Park Yong’s weakness.

He didn’t strike with the pommel or hilt, nor use his limbs.

This was a controlled evaluation inside Infinity.

Even if they “died,” they’d respawn, and any injury would heal instantly.

So Su-ho drove his blade directly into Park Yong’s body without hesitation.

Park Yong’s eyes went wide.

He had aimed for an opening—yet somehow, the sword ended up inside his body.

Only those who’ve been stabbed know that feeling.

Before Park Yong could react further, Su-ho withdrew the blade.

The younger man staggered back several steps.

Su-ho calmly flicked the blood from his sword as he watched him.

Park Yong clutched the wound.

He furrowed his brow—clearly deep in thought.

He deliberately avoided healing him through the system.

How will Park Yong respond to this kind of injury?

Park Yong didn’t complain.

That stubborn grit—Su-ho liked that.

So this time, he made the first move.

Su-ho swung, and Park Yong quickly parried.

Su-ho gradually pressed forward.

He could have ended it quickly.

But instead, he calculated each moment, deliberately allowing Park Yong the space to attempt a counter.

Park Yong let go of the wounded area.

The stab hurt—but deflecting the incoming blows was more urgent.

His mind spun wildly.

He moved immediately.

The opening was real.

And as he did, a faint smile crept onto his face.

It wasn’t some earth-shattering breakthrough.

But it felt like growth.

Yeah. This isn’t the real deal... but since it’s based on the real thing, there’s so much to gain from it.

Thinking that, he charged again.

And Su-ho was delighted.

Because he could see everything Park Yong was thinking—clear as day on his face.

When time was up, the assistant avatars pushed the candidates back and announced the end of the evaluation.

A boxing match lasts 12 rounds of 3 minutes, with a minute break between each.

These candidates had been locked in nonstop battle for an entire hour.

That was borderline superhuman.

No—it was superhuman.

They were all Awakened, after all, with stamina stats to match.

Some had died mid-fight multiple times.

No—actually, they all died at least once.

It was part of the assessment.

So, understandably...

The moment it ended, everyone collapsed.

Some fell flat to the ground. Others just slumped over, too exhausted to move.

It was a funny sight.

Their bodies were virtual, but they were panting with exhaustion.

Mental fatigue had built up.

Su-ho looked around at the candidates and nodded.

“After a 30-minute break, we’ll move on to the final evaluation.”

But that hardly mattered.

What mattered was the schedule.

When they hit the field, conditions would be far worse than this.

“You can listen while resting. The final test will assess your mission-execution ability, based on a real-life gate scenario. It’s not a team test—it’s individual. Class-specific missions will be issued throughout. Make your own judgment calls.”

“So... since this is an evaluation too, does that mean no one gets eliminated?”

“There’s no elimination from this part alone. But your overall evaluation will determine whether you pass. So act wisely.”

The questioner bowed their head.

‘So basically, we can fail,’ they wanted to say—but didn’t have the guts.

Above the candidates’ heads, scores assigned by the system hovered.

He scanned the Banshee squad’s scores—and smiled.

They’d done even better than expected.

And among them... actually, among all candidates, the top score belonged to Kim Geon.

Of course. A former OPS #1—makes sense.

But that wasn’t what truly surprised him.

The real shock was Park Yong.

Overall score: 2nd place.

Su-ho had personally evaluated him for an hour, so he’d seen almost everything Park Yong had to offer.

And it felt like discovering a hidden treasure.

If trained properly, Park Yong could potentially become Korea’s strongest swordsman.

Assuming I’m still the best in the world, of course.

Su-ho quietly smiled at him.