Life Rebooted with Copy and Paste-Chapter 151. Someone Higher Up

In the heart of Downtown Shanghai, a colossal black coffin loomed ominously, rippling with sinister shadows. Hundreds of Hunters stood in tight formation before it, tense and ready.

This should suffice...

Yang Huai, the guild leader of the Black Dragon Guild, surveyed with satisfaction. Despite the rushed assembly, their numbers were impressive. More importantly, the quality was exceptional because most of them were A-rank Hunters.

If only our main headquarters hadn’t been caught up in this...

Yang Huai’s expression briefly darkened with regret. If the members stationed at headquarters had been present, their odds of success would have been far higher. Still, the situation wasn’t entirely bleak.

I’m sure my men inside would protect the civilians and work on evacuation plans.

Their tasks were simple, which was to breach the coffin and reunite with their comrades inside.

“Do you think this will be alright?” a voice interrupted his thoughts.

The chief of the Shanghai Public Security Bureau approached him, full of concerns.

“The Chairman is quite concerned about this incident.”

“And?” Yang Huai replied sharply.

“Pardon?” The chief blinked.

“Are you suggesting we hand this over to those foreigners or barbarians because you’re nervous?” Yang Huai’s words were laced with disdain.

“No, that’s not what I meant...” The chief trailed off, visibly flustered.

“This is our problem. Stay out of it,” Yang Huai replied coldly.

“...Understood.”

The chief’s brows furrowed as he retreated, displeased but powerless. Yang Huai let out a derisive snort. The public security bureau could intimidate ordinary people, but not the elite Hunters of the Eight Dragons Association. At most, they could glare and sulk.

Without us, the city would already be overrun by monsters.

Yang Huai believed there was no need to rely on external aid, even for an S-rank dungeon. He had personally confirmed the monster levels inside the coffin through channels separate from Gao Lin. Yet, for reasons unknown, Gao Lin had insisted on recruiting foreign Hunters, claiming the coffin was extremely dangerous.

At the time, I thought he had discovered some hidden threat...

However now, in hindsight, he suspected something more sinister—a plot engineered by Gao Lin himself.

If so, why would he gather outsiders?

The only plausible theory Yang Huai could think of was chilling.

Could he have needed sacrifices to trigger the branches’ emergence?

This theory, while wrong, made sense to Yang Huai, who was unaware of Gao Lin’s twisted power leveling.

Speculation won’t solve anything. We’ll know the truth once we get inside and confront Gao Lin.

“Deploy the teams!” Yang Huai barked.

“Yes, sir!”

“Yes sir!”

With practiced efficiency, the hundreds of Hunters broke into dozens of pre-formed units, positioning themselves strategically around the coffin. Overcrowding would only hinder their effectiveness, so they spread out to maintain optimal combat readiness.

“Enter!” Yang Huai commanded, leading the main squad into the coffin.

As they stepped inside, the world shifted. The bustling streets of Shanghai were gone, replaced by an eerie, shadow-cloaked replica of the city. Buildings, vehicles, and roads were all twisted and shrouded in darkness, as if swallowed by the coffin’s malevolent presence.

The Black Dragon Guild’s headquarters, once a towering skyscraper, had transformed into a fortress-like structure, radiating an oppressive aura. The warped familiarity of their surroundings sent shivers through the Hunters. It felt as though the dungeon was mocking them by overlaying itself onto their home.

“Stay sharp,” Yang Huai cautioned, his voice low.

The group advanced cautiously, scanning the desolate streets for any sign of movement. However, something was off. Not a single sound echoed through the shadow city. No cries for help, no roars of monsters, nothing. It was as if the coffin had swallowed all life.

Where is everyone?

The streets should’ve been filled with panicked civilians or, at the very least, signs of a struggle. Even the usual cacophony of Hunters battling monsters was glaringly absent.

“Guild Master, there’s someone up ahead!”

Suddenly, a subordinate’s voice cut through the silence.

Yang Huai immediately focused on the figure in the distance, instantly recognizing who it was.

“It’s Li Weipeng!” he exclaimed.

Li Weipeng was one of the Black Dragon Guild’s Hunters, as well as an officer. Relief briefly flashed across Yang Huai’s face as he approached, but it quickly soured.

Li Weipeng was staring blankly into the void, his posture rigid. He was clad in pitch-black armor, with an equally dark longsword in his hand. HTo an uninformed observer, he’d have appeared as a heavily armed melee fighter.

However Yang Huai knew better that Li Weipeng was a mage, not a warrior.

“Li Weipeng! What happened here? Explain yourself!” Yang Huai demanded, stepping closer with his subordinates.

Li Weipeng slowly turned to face him. His expression was unsettlingly vacant, and when he spoke, his voice was an eerie blend of his own and something else.

“Halt.”

The single word reverberated unnaturally, sending chills down the spines of everyone present.

“You shall not pass. The King is occupied and has ordered that no one disturb the throne.”

With that, Li Weipeng raised his sword, its blade gleaming menacingly in the dim light. Though he stood motionless, the malice emanating from him was unmistakable. It seemed that any further approach would result in bloodshed.

What in the world is going on...?

Yang Huai narrowed his eyes.

Something had clearly gone horribly wrong. Whoever—or whatever—was controlling Li Weipeng.

“Subdue him!” Yang Huai ordered, unsheathing his own weapon.

Whatever is going on, we'll figure it out after we take him down.

The Hunters of the Eight Dragons Association surged forward, their weapons ready to neutralize one of their own.

***

It’s a dream.

Sometimes, in those rare moments of lucidity within a dream, the realization struck that one was dreaming. This was one of those times for Kim Do-Joon.

He was aware he was in a dream, but something about it felt unusually vivid. He found himself in an unfamiliar garden, tending to a strange, otherworldly tree he had never seen before.

He was not himself, either. Instead, he inhabited someone else’s body, his gnarled hands meticulously trimming branches and smoothing the tree’s bark. Even though he couldn’t see his own reflection, the deep wrinkles in those hands betrayed the man’s age.

“Father...”

From behind, a soft, feminine voice broke the serene silence.

Kim Do-Joon froze. He had never heard this voice before, yet it felt uncannily familiar.

Who is that? Kim Do-Joon wondered, albeit his body didn’t respond. Instead, the old man continued tending to the tree, methodically pruning and caring for it.

“Your children... my siblings... they’re coming here, with impure intentions.”

The woman’s voice spoke again, a tremor of urgency lacing her tone.

The old man remained silent, his hands never faltering in their work.

“They are not satisfied with what they’ve been given,” she continued, her voice growing sharper. “They seek more—greater power, greater authority. And now, they are coming for you.”

“Seong-Ah...” the old man finally spoke, his tone calm and heavy, like the weight of centuries rested in his words.

“Please take back their power,” the woman urged, her voice rising with desperation. “The strength and dominion they wield, even their very lives—they are all gifts from you. How long will you allow such ungrateful, treacherous children to defy you?”

“Seong-Ah, no parent turns away a child who comes to them,” the old man replied gently.

“Father!” she cried out, her voice almost cracking.

However, the old man only chuckled with a soft, hollow sound that resonated with sorrow. From within, Kim Do-Joon could feel that it was a grief too deep for words.

“You may have a point,” the old man said after a pause. “Still, let me give them... just one more chance.”

“Father...” Seong-Ah’s voice faltered, tinged with resignation.

“I can only ask for your understanding,” he said, resting his wrinkled hand gently on her head.

Sadness and reverence emanated from Seong-Ah’s gaze. Just then, something breached the sanctity of the garden. A dark shadow seeped into the space, staining its serenity with an oppressive presence. Seong-Ah’s demeanor shifted instantly, her eyes narrowing with fury.

“It seems like the youngest one has come first,” he muttered. “He must have been desperate to surpass his siblings...”

“Such greed,” she hissed. “Him, and the rest—they’re all the same!”

Rage flaring, Seong-Ah raised her hand, a brilliant white light coalescing around her fingertips. However, before she could unleash it, the old man reached out, wrapping his hand around hers.

At his touch, she began to dissolve into light. Slowly but inexorably, she was being removed from the garden.

“Father, no!” she cried, struggling against the force pulling her away. Yet her voice grew fainter and fainter, unable to reach beyond the confines of the garden.

Before her form vanished completely, she froze. The old man’s lips moved silently, mouthing words only she could see.

— Don’t worry, child. I promise you that it will just be one more chance.

She bit her lip, her defiance melting into quiet acceptance. Then, with one last sorrowful glance, she disappeared and the garden plunged into darkness. Her lingering light was swallowed by the encroaching shadows.

And then, the dream shifted.

“Ah.”

Kim Do-Joon sat bolt upright in bed, gasping softly. The familiar ceiling of a hotel room greeted him. His hands moved instinctively, examining himself. Everything worked as it should. His fingers curled, his limbs obeyed.

Indeed it was... just a dream.

Yet the images refused to fade. The garden, the tree, the old man’s wrinkled hands, and the grieving woman—they were all etched vividly into his mind. He could still hear her voice, feel the weight of her words.

It wasn’t unusual to remember dreams upon waking. Sometimes, they lingered for a while, fragments of half-formed thoughts and unfamiliar faces. However, this was different because every detail felt real, alive, and unshakable.

The sorrowful touch of the old man’s hand, the tearful urgency in Seong-Ah’s gaze, and the consuming darkness at the end were all very vivid. Kim Do-Joon’s heart was still very heavy with the lingering echoes of the dream.

***

“Gah!”

Boom!

Yang Huai was sent flying backward by Li Weipeng’s sword, slamming into the ground with a heavy thud.

“Urgh!” he groaned, pushing himself upright.

Yet in the brief moment it had taken for him to recover, a few more Hunters perished by that same dark blade.

Seeing the carnage unfold, Yang Huai couldn’t hold back his shout. “This is insane!”

He didn’t understand at all! Wasn’t Li Weipeng supposed to be a Mage-class hunter?!

What was this overwhelming power? Hunters on par with Li Weipeng were being cut down like grass. Even Yang Huai himself, renowned as the greatest swordsman, couldn’t find an opening for a counterattack.

Yang Huai was not just skilled in swordsmanship; he had mastered it. That was why he understood better than anyone what was happening.

The dark longsword in Li Weipeng’s hand moved with an artistry, a depth of mastery that was at least on par with his own. The realization hit him like a cold blade.

“This isn’t the Li Weipeng I knew,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing.

Grinding his teeth, Yang Huai gave the only command he could. “Retreat!”

He couldn’t believe such a powerful adversary had been hiding in the shadows. Facing Li Weipeng with the Hunters present was impossible.

He’s on the level of a boss monster. We’ll need to regroup and launch a proper raid to take him down, Yang Huai thought grimly.

Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be other monsters or dangerous figures nearby.

At Yang Huai’s signal, the remaining Hunters retreated. Yang Huai glanced back to check if they were being pursued, but Li Weipeng simply stood in place watching them flee, his sword now sheathed.

The calm menace in that image only fueled Yang Huai’s frustration.

You bastard... Just you wait.

A signal flare soared into the sky. The retreat would buy time for all the Hunters in the vicinity to regroup and plan a coordinated strike. More fighters, especially those specializing in magic, would need to be brought in.

As Yang Huai began piecing together a strategy, he finally exited the dungeon zone, only to be greeted by a grim sight.

“No... this can’t be.”

His breath caught as he surveyed the gathered Hunters. The number of survivors was pitiful. Compared to the hundreds who had entered initially, less than a quarter had returned, battered and broken.

While the severely injured were taken to medical facilities, those left behind were exhausted, fear etched into their faces.

“Where are all the others? Is this all that’s left?” Yang Huai demanded.

“Guild master!”

A Hunter stumbled forward, speaking quickly.

“There was someone... in strange armor. If we can regroup, we might still stand a chance against them—”

“Wait,” another Hunter interrupted, his tone sharp, “armored? We had one of those on our side too.”

“What?”

As more reports trickled in, Yang Huai’s expression darkened. Only then did the full gravity of the situation sink in. The black armor that had overwhelmed him had appeared in multiple locations.

It was the same opponent that even he, Yang Huai—the guild master of Black Dragon Guild and the aspirant for the next leader of the Eight Dragons Association—couldn’t overcome.

***

Kim Do-Joon had been waiting for days, but no new information came. The Chinese authorities seemed to have locked down all details, leaving him in the dark.

The only thing he had managed to hear was a rumor that many Hunters had been taken to hospitals, but it was impossible to gauge the success or failure of the search based on that alone.

Knock, knock, knock.

Then, one day, a firm but polite knock echoed at his door.

When he opened it, a man in a sleek black suit stood there, exuding an air of authority.

“I’m with Public Security,” the man said in fluent Korean.

Kim Do-Joon’s expression soured immediately.

“What do you want now? Still planning to keep us under surveillance?” he asked bluntly.

The man hesitated, biting his lower lip. Then, to Kim Do-Joon’s surprise, he dropped to his knees, bowing his head low in a gesture of desperation.

“Please, we need your help!”

Kim Do-Joon could instantly tell that the Eight Dragons Association had failed. For someone from Public Security to grovel before a foreign Hunter, the damage must have been catastrophic.

If they’re begging me like this, then they’re probably willing to let me enter the Branch. I gained the copy-paste skill from the roots, and the Heart of Flame from the Stem. So then what kind of power would I be able to obtain in the Branch?

Kim Do-Joon became excited, but managed to suppress it.

“We’ll need to discuss this,” he said, his tone calculated.

The agent, as if expecting this, replied, “If it’s a negotiation you want, I can—”

Immediately, Kim Do-Joon raised a hand to cut him off and said with a cold smile, “No, I’ll need someone higher up than you.”