The Lying Flat People

People in the venue gradually dispersed.

This award ceremony for score announcements was halted midway, without even a proper conclusion.

The Chinese team made their stance perfectly clear: before there was evidence confirming Lim Mo cheated, they would not accept this outcome, and if no evidence was found, then Lim Mo had to be cleared.

The embassy's response was faster than expected.

When the news was sent back to China, Lim Mo's side hadn't even finished up yet. The diplomatic system went through official channels directly, with the foreign affairs office filing an appeal.

At the end of the day, the math Olympiad was just one branch under the broader Olympic competition system.

No matter how arrogant the Grubo crowd got, there were people above them. Between the on-site video recordings and the competition's surveillance footage, it was enough to nail Grubo and the other judges' bribery and corruption to the wall.

Higher-ups quickly dispatched dedicated personnel to take over and reopen the investigation.

However, that meant they'd have to stay in the ROK for another day or two.

As for the US side, after the bribery was exposed, their team was somehow completely unaffected.

Lim Mo wasn't surprised in the least.

After all, the US held hegemonic power. At this point in time, the US was at its zenith, controlling the throat of public opinion.

Whatever they wanted to spread, whatever they didn't want to spread, they handled it with surgical precision.

The ROK side was in an uproar, yet not a ripple made it outside.

Lim Mo even considered a more infuriating possibility: maybe the domestic news media back home had already rushed to publish the national team's results being invalidated as a done deal.

Then, with that as their opening, they'd spin a narrative about the national team's Olympiad failure, throw in a few lines of "thought-provoking" and "worthy of reflection" clichés, and run a full pipeline of doom-and-gloom coverage with maximum efficiency.

At the thought, Lim Mo shoved another piece of steak into his mouth.

But worrying about that now was useless.

The lawsuits were being handled, the procedures were being followed—the only thing he could do was eat Han Junhao's wallet empty.

At the top-floor upscale restaurant of the hotel, in the private dining room, the warm yellow lighting softened the space, and through the floor-to-ceiling windows, half of Seoul's night view was visible.

Han Junhao sat across from them, not touching a bite, just watching Lim Mo and Oriental Leaf devour everything in sight.

Plates came and went, and Lim Mo ordered a few more dishes.

Han Junhao's brow was furrowed, his knife and fork resting on either side of his plate, completely still.

"What are you staring at us for?"

Oriental Leaf was still chewing, pointing a fork at Han Junhao. "Don't you have the Superpower Youth Corps to manage? They're almost wiped out."

Han Junhao didn't take the bait.

"You two are too dangerous. Having me here to watch over things at least reduces a lot of unforeseen trouble."

Oriental Leaf rolled his eyes at Han Junhao.

If Han Junhao hadn't been the one footing the bill for this meal, Oriental Leaf wouldn't even have bothered to speak.

"If you really wanted to reduce trouble, you'd have let us take our awards and go home by now."

Lim Mo cut into a piece of medium-rare filet steak. "By staying in this godforsaken place for a few more days, yeah, it's annoying."

In front of Han Junhao, Lim Mo had no qualms about calling Seoul a lousy city.

Of course, he said it was annoying, but his knife never stopped.

Lim Mo sliced into the beef, popped it into his mouth, and chewed away.

The loose ends on the ROK side were essentially wrapped up; keeping Han Junhao around was purely leaving a thread of connection.

With him around, the higher-ups in the ROK didn't dare come looking for trouble with Lim Mo.

The logic was simple.

Han Junhao was one of their own. He'd witnessed Lim Mo's power, and he knew the ROK couldn't hold onto Lim Mo now, so he could lay out the stakes with clarity.

What was off-limits and what wasn't—words coming from his mouth carried more weight.

Han Junhao nodded. "I know. That's why I'm committed to full-service hospitality."

The person before him had slaughtered most of the Superpower Youth Corps, yet Han Junhao couldn't muster a single thought of resistance.

If it had been a few days ago, he might have entertained the idea of going down together, but now, he just prayed that this Lim Mo—who seemed placated as long as he was fed—wouldn't resort to more violence.

Rather than waste his life for nothing, better to play the role of the local guide.

"How did you explain things to the Divine Eye Bureau?" Oriental Leaf asked, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin, as if casually curious.

That question jabbed right at Han Junhao's weak spot, but Han Junhao was direct.

"I threw the blame on the two of you. They had nothing to say in response. You should both be satisfied now."

Well, isn't that bold of you to be so unapologetic.

Lim Mo couldn't care less. Let him shift the blame.

If the Divine Eye Bureau wasn't convinced, they could send more people.

One comes, we take one. Two come, we take a pair. He's been short on synthesis materials lately anyway.

The character pool inside the Human Emperor Banner was bustling right about now.

Who knows when they'd be able to fuse an SSR from all of that.

The souls collected at the US base, the swarm of vengeful ghosts condensed in Yin Qi Village, and the ones from the Superpower Youth Corps that came in last night—plenty of materials to work with.

You could think of it as a large-scale battle royale, which fits perfectly, since they were, after all, right here in the ROK.

Family members mixing and fusing with each other, eventually becoming ultimate Family Fast & Furious forces.

That's the abstract way of putting it.

The non-abstract explanation: they devoured each other, like cultivating a Gu.

So-called Gu-raising means throwing a bunch of venomous creatures in a jar and forcing them to fight to the death—the last one standing is the Gu King.

The Human Emperor Banner wasn't about quantity; quality was the key.

Several waves of materials devoured and fused with one another, and what coalesced in the end would vastly exceed the sum of their original fighting strength.

These could all be solidified into stronger minions.

A Human Emperor, after all, gains assistance through virtue.

As for Han Junhao's claim of "satisfaction," Lim Mo thought it was just okay, average at best.

Lim Mo popped the last bite of steak into his mouth and glanced up at Han Junhao.

Han Junhao was drinking water, quietly. His gaze was distant, lost in some thought.

This guy was indeed cooperative enough.

But of course, if Han Junhao ever found an opening to turn the tables, he wouldn't hesitate to strike.

That kind of person had a ruthless edge baked into his bones; Lim Mo's apparent calm wouldn't sway him from his own agenda.

So, when they left that night, Lim Mo had already planted a seed in the depths of Han Junhao's consciousness using soul capture.

A very tiny seed.

So small that no one could detect it.

It wouldn't control Han Junhao's actions, wouldn't affect his judgment—it just sat there, quiet and unassuming.

When the need arises, Lim Mo would activate it.

As for exactly what would happen then, even Lim Mo himself was rather curious.

"One more dessert course." Lim Mo handed the menu to Han Junhao.

Han Junhao took it, didn't even flip through it, and just raised his hand to call the waiter.

"One of everything."

Lim Mo leaned back in his chair, satisfied.

Oriental Leaf knew Lim Mo was something else, so he simply focused on eating and drinking. After all, neither of them had anything left to deal with from this point on.

This fully-funded business trip was a real treat—pure sightseeing from start to finish.

They'd even managed to neutralize some small threats around China's periphery.

Consider themselves lucky.