Chapter 193 : Xinjiang
Xinjiang
Jeong-un was tailing the men from so far away that their figures looked as small as fingernails.
It was a natural-born sensitivity.
Moreover, he had shaved at it daily, honing it with countless hours of training, so that to say his senses were simply keen was an understatement.
Within the broad range of his perception, the presence of every individual stood out distinctly.
'They're weak.'
If the Demonic Cult numbered in the tens of thousands, there would inevitably be a great variety among its ranks.
Of course there would be such henchmen at the bottom, and it was understandable that their martial arts would be crude.
But what puzzled Jeong-un was why someone like that would be dressed in fine silk and have three guards in tow.
The guards too were by no means top-level, but the whole picture was certainly unnatural.
'I must also keep in mind that this is not a place I am used to.'
Perhaps it was because the desert was so close by. Hami was definitely different from other villages in the Central Plains.
While wooden pavilions common elsewhere stood at the center of the village, the further to the outskirts one went, the more one saw buildings of unusual shapes made from earth.
It was an unfamiliar sight for Jeong-un.
The guesthouse where he had been sitting just moments before was located in the heart of the village.
But those he was following gradually headed to the periphery and slipped into a deserted alleyway.
'Let's do it now.'
Jeong-un had briefly considered waiting until they completely reached their destination, but changed his mind.
He planned to act while remaining hidden for the time being.
That was the reason he hadn't done anything immediately when encountering them at the guesthouse earlier—there had been too many eyes watching.
Moreover, since Hami was an active trading hub, its population was not small.
It might be the last time these men would move of their own accord to such a deserted place.
Above all, who's to say their destination right now is their stronghold?
If not, he could end up wasting time for nothing.
Ta-ak.
With those thoughts finished, he took a stride forward.
Paaa—!
Jeong-un's body's form pierced through the air like a sharp needle stabbing a single point.
In an instant, he landed on the roof of a building immediately above those who had seemed no larger than dots only a moment before.
The men, unaware, were making their way through the narrow alley.
He immediately dropped down and struck the head of the one at the rear with a knifehand blow.
Puck!
He didn't hold back in the least. He'd already sensed their energy several times while tailing them.
They exuded the same energy as the one he'd captured at Zhao clan of Changshan.
"...!"
His downward strike was infused with colorless bursting energy.
The man's crown, unable to withstand, cracked open with a squelch. Not even a scream escaped; he collapsed immediately.
"Wh-what the hell!"
"...!"
But these men were martial artists.
Even if their comrade was killed without a sound, they could still sense the presence.
Startled, they turned their heads and shouted in horror.
They responded quickly enough to the situation, and their hands flew to their waists in unison.
But already, a ki wave crashed in behind Jeong-un.
"Keurgh!"
"Keuhk!"
Another one's chest caved in as though crushed.
It was utterly shattered.
The other's neck was grotesquely twisted. Wide-eyed in disbelief, he crumpled to the ground.
Neither had managed to even grasp their sword handles yet.
"M-madness..."
The man in the silk robe let the hand reaching for his waist fall limply.
He simply stared blankly at the young man before him, knowing that if his opponent wished, he too would already be a corpse like the others.
That meant there must be some reason for keeping him alive, and, at the same time, he realized he didn't know when he might be killed as well.
"Wh-what do you want?"
"...."
Jeong-un stared at him in silence.
Something about him was off for a Demonic Cultist. There was no sign of fanatical loyalty.
Even the newly formed Blood Cult members would risk their lives for their cult leader.
For someone who should have been even more extreme, his reaction was too ordinary.
Asking what he wanted while trembling? That could be seen anywhere.
Jeong-un tilted his head and questioned him.
"Who are you?"
"...?"
The man's eyes went wide.
It was understandable.
Suddenly, three of his companions were sent to the afterlife with an attack so fast it couldn't be seen, and now he was being asked about his identity.
It was only natural for him to find this strange.
"...."
Even so, the man didn't ask Jeong-un in return. Instead, he swallowed nervously and chose his words.
The look in his eyes beneath his bamboo hat was icy cold.
With long arms hanging down and a blank expression, he stared at Jeong-un, and that only sent another chill down the man's spine—afraid that Jeong-un might unleash the same martial skills again, as if it were nothing.
With a trembling voice, he finally spoke.
"M-my name is Cheol Mok. I'm a military officer belonging to the Hami Guard, which governs this place."
"What?"
Jeong-un scowled at those words.
'Judging by the name, he seems to be a local.'
The Hami Guard, the man mentioned, was a title granted by the Ming to the ruling class of this region.
Although by now it had lost much of its meaning, it still carried weight.
To call himself a member of the Hami Guard, when the air around him was thick with the taint of the Demonic Cult—
'So, the local elites are Demonic Cultists.'
While the Ming was focusing their strength at the northern borders, the Demonic Cult had reached into Hami.
They had even enabled the ruling class to learn their martial arts and become completely subjugated.
So that's why such a petty man had been wearing silk and escorted by three guards.
And contrary to Jeong-un's initial guess that it might just be another rabble yielding nothing, he had actually found the right target.
Jeong-un finally spoke.
"Where were you headed just now?"
"T-that, um..."
The man hesitated, at a loss for words, as if silenced by some instinctual fear.
Jeong-un was speechless.
It was ridiculous to see him, after watching his comrades die, hesitate to answer out of fear for something else.
Bang!
"Keuk!"
At the same moment, the man's body crashed into the wall. Jeong-un had seized his neck and slammed him into it.
"...!"
The man's eyes bulged. The sudden swing in perspective was one thing, but now he couldn't breathe.
He clawed at the iron grip on his neck, but it wouldn't budge. The strength in Jeong-un's fingers was immense.
"I know you've learned Demonic Cult martial arts. If you're afraid of retribution from them and won't talk, I'll just kill you here."
"K-keuuurgh..."
As the man tried to speak, Jeong-un loosened his grip a little.
He really was a feeble fellow—unfit for a local noble ruling a village where everyone carried a sword.
'So there's something even scarier that keeps him so fearful.'
It occurred to Jeong-un that there must be unknown martial artists who had taken over the local elite.
And they would certainly be from the Demonic Cult. That the man had learned even a snippet of demonic arts was clear evidence.
At that moment, as he caught his breath, the man stammered:
"Wh-where did you come fro... no, did you come from the Ming royal family?"
"That's none of your business."
"S-such a thing..."
"Just answer my question. Where were you headed a moment ago?"
Seeing him hesitate yet again, Jeong-un strengthened his internal power in his grip.
As the man's throat closed up once more, his face turned red, and he barely managed to sputter out:
"I—I was on my way to the Ming Cult branch!"
"The Ming Cult branch?"
Jeong-un frowned in response.
The 'Ming Cult' was the name the Demonic Cultists arrogantly used for themselves, borrowing the same character as Great Ming.
The man hurried to clarify.
"Today is the day I'm to report the supply status of Hami to the branch manager of the Ming Cult."
"Is this a regular meeting?"
"Y-yes, that's right."
"...."
Jeong-un inwardly scoffed. Reporting military supply status to a heretical cult? It sounded absurd.
'Didn't he say he was a military officer?'
Jeong-un stared at the man.
This could only mean the region was entirely in their hands—not just interfering, but dominating internal affairs.
Thud.
As Jeong-un released his grip, the man collapsed and coughed harshly, his throat swollen and red from the pressure.
Jeong-un glanced at the corpses of the men he'd just killed.
Then he picked up the long robe from the one whose build was most similar and began to slip it on.
"...?"
The man, clutching his neck and coughing, looked up at Jeong-un with perplexed eyes.
Jeong-un, expressionless, put on the robe and looked down at the man.
"Lead the way."
"What?"
"From now on, I'm your guard."
The man's mouth dropped open.
* * *
Cheol Mok led Jeong-un even further toward the outskirts of Hami.
Their branch appeared to be located at the very edge of the village.
Jeong-un had expected the group, having seized control of the region, to be based in the center, but evidently that wasn't the case.
"They avoid revealing themselves."
Cheol Mok explained. Without daring to look back at Jeong-un, he answered in a trembling voice.
"Avoid? Haven't they already taken over and seized control?"
"Control, you say... We merely calculated our benefits and joined hands with them."
"Yet you make regular reports and learn their martial arts. Hardly sounds like a simple partnership."
"As I said, it's only a cooperative relationship with the Ming Cult. Furthermore, I'm just an errand boy—I know little else."
Jeong-un fell silent. Complicated politics didn't interest him, especially now.
'I only need to do my job.'
All he wanted was to learn where the Demonic Cult's stronghold on Mount Tian was.
Once the Demonic Cult Leader died, the cult would lose its center and scatter.
Dealing with the aftermath was entirely the Ming royal family's business.
These men, who had once received official ranks, had brazenly allied with rebels, and the royal family would not let it slide.
But that gave them no right to accuse Jeong-un.
For now, he was just a martial artist of the Heavenly Martial Hall.
Strictly speaking, this wasn't even Ming territory. That was why Jeong-un sought to conceal his identity.
"Th-that's it, over there."
Cheol Mok raised his forefinger and pointed to a mud house visible in the distance. They had come to a truly deserted spot.
At a glance, the building was humble and small.
When Jeong-un looked at Cheol Mok, the man hurried to explain.
"It's true! We usually just deliver a message and leave."
"I know."
"...?"
"Keep leading. Don't tip them off—act as you always do."
"Wh-what..."
The man tried to say something, then flinched at Jeong-un's icy stare. He had no choice but to move toward the mud house.
Tung, tung.
Knocking nervously, they waited as a presence stirred within.
'They're here.'
Even from around the house, Jeong-un could sense the thick, foul aura. It was unmistakable now.
No matter what measures the men inside took, they could not hide their energy from Jeong-un.
Creak.
The door opened and a man stepped out. He wore all black, without insignia, and his face was very pale.
He looked at Cheol Mok, then glanced at Jeong-un, and then slowly spoke.
"... A face I haven't seen."
Cheol Mok nodded awkwardly and answered.
"A new military officer. I brought him along to teach him the ropes."
"...."
The man stared at Jeong-un for a while, then turned as if to invite them in. Cheol Mok looked at Jeong-un as if asking what to do.
"...."
Jeong-un, composed, motioned inward with his chin. Cheol Mok squeezed his eyes shut, then stepped inside hesitantly.
Now it was about to begin.