Damn, It's Lit

A massive venue.

It looked ordinary enough from the outside, and stepping inside only reinforced that impression.

It was basically just a stadium.

"This is the venue for your competition."

Teacher Bai walked with his hands clasped behind his back, explaining to the students as he went. "It's spacious, which also means no cover. Every move everyone makes on the field is completely visible to both the stands and the seats."

He had clearly scouted the place beforehand, moving with practiced ease, even remembering exactly where every camera was located.

Several teams from other countries were already familiarizing themselves with the venue. Some wore matching training uniforms, their coaches gesturing at tablets. Others spread out in small groups, testing the atmosphere by imagining themselves in competition.

This gymnasium had been built specifically for international events. The ceiling arched high overhead, and the interior structure was tiered like a ring, with spectator seats climbing upward in layers—more than enough room to host over six hundred competitors simultaneously.

Lin Mo walked with his hands in his pockets, down the middle of the path.

Looking up: the ceiling lights were densely arranged, about a third turned on, already blindingly bright.

Looking down: the floor had a slight bounce to it underfoot, likely PVC sport flooring.

The surveillance cameras were placed as densely as those in a casino, many of them retrofitted.

But to him, those cameras were about as useful as decorations.

"Lin Mo."

Dongfang Shuye walked over from the side, not fast, but clearly with purpose.

"I already know what you did last night."

Lin Mo raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Dongfang Shuye handed him the phone, the screen displaying Choi Jeong-woong's blog post.

The view count had already hit seven figures. The comments section was an explosion—a jumble of different languages.

Scrolling down: an official statement from the Korean police.

A full investigation had been launched against YJJ Entertainment, covering charges of human trafficking and illegal detention, among other serious felonies.

"Damn, you really stirred things up," Dongfang Shuye said, taking back the phone.

Lin Mo smiled. "I'll tell you the details later. But yes, that's exactly what happened. The people exposed now are just scapegoats."

Dongfang Shuye wasn't surprised.

The owner of YJJ was at best a frontman. Anyone with experience in that world could see it.

An entertainment company running a black-market operation of this scale, without corporate backing? Give me a break.

In the small hours of the night, Lin Mo had spent considerable time tracing YJJ's capital flows and network of connections.

He'd noticed a very interesting detail.

Among YJJ's upper management, there was almost no discussion about Cai Junhuang—not a single mention.

That was seriously off.

If Cai Junhuang was a target YJJ themselves had selected, internal instructions regarding him would have circulated. There was no way around it.

That left only one explanation: the orders came from higher up, bypassing YJJ's normal operational channels.

In other words, the party targeting Cai Junhuang wasn't YJJ.

It was the conglomerate backing YJJ.

Or perhaps, even deeper than that, something else behind the conglomerate.

Getting more and more curious.

Lin Mo tucked that thought away for now and followed Teacher Bai as he continued leading the tour around the venue.

He noticed a section of the second-tier stands set aside as a private VIP box. The glass was one-way—impossible to see inside from outside.

Who would be sitting in there during the competition?

As Lin Mo idly scanned his surroundings.

At the entrance to another passage on the opposite side of the stands, Han Junhao leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on Lin Mo and Dongfang Shuye.

Smiling Face stood beside him, holding an unopened can of coffee, that perpetually fixed smile plastered on his face.

"Bar Yeonju was raided last night," Han Junhao said, his voice low. "You think Lin Mo did it?"

"Brother, stop overthinking it."

Smiling Face shook the coffee can. "Headquarters already pulled the surveillance footage. The build and movement patterns of the person who acted don't match Lin Mo at all. Initial assessment is a natural Awakener. Higher-ups have already sent people to make contact."

Han Junhao didn't respond, his eyes still locked on Lin Mo.

"Lin Mo just arrived in Seoul, and this happens right after."

"Coincidence."

"I don't believe in coincidences."

Smiling Face popped the tab on his coffee can and took a sip. "Believe it or not, the evidence is there. That person's ability signature is completely different from Lin Mo's. That can't be faked."

Han Junhao dropped the argument. He pulled out his phone and brought up Choi Jeong-woong's blog page. New comments were still flooding in: people cursing YJJ, cursing the Korean government, others worrying for Choi Jeong-woong's safety.

"This Choi Jeong-woong guy sure poked a hornet's nest." Han Junhao stared at the screen for a few seconds. "Hope he's tough enough to survive."

Smiling Face tilted his head. "Oh? Didn't know Brother had such a sense of justice."

"Don't talk to me in that tone."

"Sorry, Brother. But seriously."

Smiling Face's voice was light and airy. "From what I've heard, several groups are already gunning for Choi Jeong-woong. That article of his stepped on too many toes. Someone wants to shut him up for good. But what they're really after isn't him."

Han Junhao turned his head.

"You're trying to lure out that natural Awakener."

Smiling Face raised a finger. "Brother, it's 'we' now. Choi Jeong-woong is the bait. Logic's simple: the guy saved those victims last night, which means he's got a sense of justice. A man with a conscience sees Choi Jeong-woong being hunted down—what does he do?"

"So you've posted people around Choi Jeong-woong."

"As expected of Brother. But judging by the capabilities that person showed last night, he's at least A-rank. Not sure if the guys they sent are enough."

Smiling Face took another sip of coffee, grinning. "Might end up losing a few of them."

Han Junhao stared at Smiling Face for two seconds.

The reason he hated this person was always that smile—it felt fake.

Like a product bought from a mask shop, glued onto his face and never peeled off.

You could never guess what was really going on behind that smile.

And every single word of that conversation fell, without omission, into Lin Mo's ears.

Whether Choi Jeong-woong lived or died, he honestly didn't care much.

A journalist who chose to blow the lid off something should have the guts to face the consequences.

But.

The information Smiling Face gave him sparked an idea.

They were waiting for that person to show up again.

If he sent his clone to save Choi Jeong-woong, naturally revealing itself within the Super Youth Corps' field of view, then getting recruited...

Then he'd have an undercover line straight into the heart of the Super Youth Corps.

The corner of Lin Mo's mouth twitched.

Teacher Bai, still walking ahead, continued explaining various details about the venue. Dongfang Shuye listened attentively by his side.

No one noticed that Lin Mo had already diverted a portion of his divine sense, silently connecting to the public network of the Seoul Municipal Archives Bureau.

When it came to fabricating an identity, if you’re going to do it, you do it completely.

Birth certificates, school records, medical history, social media footprints—a orphan who grew up in the slums of Seoul, with no family background, no organizational affiliation, and who had only recently awakened superpowers.

He then fabricated one of the victimized girls as his girlfriend.

This identity had to hold up under scrutiny, had to withstand investigation.

Data entries were being implanted deep within the network, one by one, each record’s timestamp meticulously calculated to cross-verify with other information in the existing databases.

Lin Mo followed the procession forward while mentally assembling every detail of this fictional character.

Three minutes later, a twenty-two-year-old youth named Piao Guochang was quietly born into the household registration system of the Republic of Korea.