Chapter 294 : Divine Might (2)
Chapter 294: Divine Might (2)
Though Jin Hayeon's imagination was absurd, Il-mok didn't bother to deny her words.
"Ahem. A grand plan is just a grand plan, so don't worry too much about it. If you move with too large a goal in mind, small mistakes tend to pile up."
Even so, he thought it would be impossible for the entire world to be dyed in the colors of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.
After playing along with Jin Hayeon's preposterous delusion, Il-mok soon turned his head to look around.
He watched the Black Tiger Corps members teaching letters to those who had been slaves following his orders.
"Tian (天). Repeat after me. Tian (天)."
Some of them started with the usual Thousand Character Classic, pointing upward with their fingers as they taught the pronunciation of Heaven (天), then pointing at the ground and teaching Earth (地).
(TL Note: Tian is Cheon in Korean btw. Cheon of Cheonma for example. Of course, depends on the Hanja too. There is Cheon of Thousand (千); Cheon of River (川), think of the Chuan of Sichuan or Sacheon in Korean. There is also Cheon of Fabric too, but I forgot the Hanja for that. I never understood the spite of the Chinese and why they went as far as to split an already hard language to learn into two. Mainland China uses simplified Chinese, and Taiwan uses traditional Chinese. Hanja (Chinese for Korean), as far as I knew, is dominated by traditional Chinese.)
Others grabbed sand in their hands and taught Sand (沙) while some even drew characters in the sand with their fingers to teach the actual written forms.
"Argh! Why can't you remember this!!"
In Dokgo Pae's case, he was throwing a fit all by himself while trying to teach.
But Dokgo Pae was simply lacking in patience.
The slaves are learning slowly but surely.
The overall atmosphere was one of almost no motivation.
They weren't outright rebellious, but rather gave the impression of just doing it because they were told to.
‘We can barely teach them the characters. World domination? Yeah, right.’
It was a frustrating sight, but after hearing Jin Hayeon's delusion, Il-mok was actually relieved they were so bad at learning.
***
The group traveled for quite some time, alternating between the desolate desert and greenery that could hardly be called grassland.
As the sky began to darken, they prepared to camp for the night.
They made do with emergency rations and water brought from Merv.
After deciding the order for night watch, each went to bed.
The desert night was cold.
They had to pile on multiple thick layers of cloth and gather dried, twisted branches and hardened animal droppings scattered across the barren desert to light a campfire just to barely endure it.
How long had he been lying with his eyes closed, relying on the warmth of the campfire to try to fall asleep?
‘If we keep sleeping like this, are we going to die from carbon monoxide poisoning or hypothermia first?’
Just as he was drifting into that hazy state between dream and reality while entertaining such trivial thoughts, Il-mok was suddenly jolted awake by the shouts of the Black Tiger Corps members.
"We're under attack!"
"Bandits are approaching!"
Il-mok shook off his sleep and rose to his feet in an instant to scan his surroundings.
By the time he did that, black shadows were already approaching from all directions.
"Haah. Just when I thought things were getting peaceful."
The raids that had been quiet since they started traveling with the Majid Family were welcoming them again after just a few days.
Once they realized that the Black Tiger Corps was already aware of their existence, the attitude of those who had been cautiously sneaking closer suddenly changed.
"Kill them!!"
"Allahu Akbar!!"
They began charging while screaming at the top of their lungs.
Those who remained in the rear started shooting arrows or casting spells, while those at the front were already calling upon their God.
Il-mok let out a sigh at this familiar routine.
"Haah. Do these bastards think their chants are doing something?"
Whether they were robbers, bandits, or thieves, he couldn't understand why they all attacked while invoking their God’s name.
They seem to be under a preconception that if they prayed to God as they do some atrocities, they’ll become righteous heroes and their sins would be forgiven.
"Miss Jeong! Intercept those casting spells."
"Y-Yes, I will!"
"Ohalak! Take cover over there with the Majid Family people. Black Tiger Corps, I need thirty of you to form a circular formation and protect them. As for you lots, eliminate the enemies!"
To counter the fanatic bandits who dared to attack them, Il-mok quickly issued orders.
The battle started out of nowhere.
Those who had been sold as slaves looked around with fear-filled eyes.
Normally, slaves were used as human shields and died pointlessly when such fights broke out.
But something weird happened.
Several Muslims approached them and began to crouch down, while warriors in distinctive clothing formed a large circular formation as if protecting them.
While the slaves wore bewildered expressions at this strange situation—
Swish!
An arrow shot by Jeong Hyeon flew through the air with a piercing sound and embedded itself in the forehead of a sorcerer who had been preparing a spell in the distance.
As if her arrow was a signal flare, battles erupted simultaneously in all directions.
"Don't let a single one escape!"
"Kill the women too!"
Muslims shouted from all sides as they charged, and arrows and spells from those Jeong Hyeon hadn't yet dealt withrained down on the Black Tiger Corps members.
Boom!
But the Black Tiger Corps members easily blocked these attacks, each coating their weapons with qi and utilizing their Demonic Arts.
Clang!
"Aaargh!!"
At the same time, ten Black Tiger Corps members led by Il-mok and Ouyang Hyeok charged forward and began slaughtering the enemies.
Swish!
Thud.
When another person died from Jeong Hyeon's arrow, someone who appeared to be a commander shouted and pointed at her.
"Kill that woman first!!"
Immediately, flames and arrows flew toward Jeong Hyeon.
Pat!
Just then, a woman with an impassive expression stepped in front of Jeong Hyeon as if to protect her and swung her hands.
The flames that touched Jin Hayeon's cold hands were extinguished with ease.
"Haaah!"
Not only that, a woman wielding a chaotic spear technique joined in blocking the bandits charging at Jeong Hyeon.
Meanwhile, Il-mok who had been slaughtering the bandits without any particular emotion as usual soon noticed something peculiar.
"These bastards. They weren't bandits."
A clear command structure. Numbers easily exceeding a hundred. And above all, they were extraordinarily skilled.
Each one was at least First-Rate Realm by Central Plains standards, and this type was not the type to be living as desert bandits.
Slash!
Still, they were simply far inferior compared to Il-mok or Black Tiger Corps Leader Ouyang Hyeok.
'Since they know we made a lot of money, they must be from Merv.'
He couldn't know exactly which family was behind this, but he could roughly deduce how things had unfolded.
Just then—
Slash!
As Il-mok cut down an enemy disguised as a bandit, a scimitar flew toward him with fierce momentum.
The curved blade was imbued with Force Qi and openly targeted Il-mok’s vitals.
Il-mok twisted his body from his sword-swinging stance and swung the Ascension Sword.
Clang!!
"Oh?"
When Il-mok blocked his ambush, the middle-aged man wielding the curved blade let out a peculiar sound.
Zafir Omar.
A man called Merv's greatest warrior.
"Quite the skills you have there. Today, I shall offer you as a sacrifice to God and be reborn as the Great Warrior."
Great Warrior (Muharib Azim, محارب عظيم).
A title granted only to great warriors blessed by God had been Zafir's long-cherished dream.
But even with that realm within reach, he had been unable to break through the wall for several years.
Because of this, dissatisfaction had been building in Zafir's heart.
Dissatisfaction with Arslan, the Family Head.
'To receive God's blessing, one needs to fight in a Holy War! How can I receive God's blessing while holed up at home!'
From Zafir's perspective, this battle was a fight that could wash away all his accumulated frustrations.
Above all—
"Hahaha. God must indeed be watching over me."
The young man who appeared to be the leader of the infidel group was at a level equal to his own, which made it even more so exciting.
That was why Zafir thought this was a test given to him by God.
If he passed this test, he would receive God's blessing and be reborn as the Great Warrior.
As a devout follower of Islam, Zafir couldn't even imagine losing in a battle where God was watching over him.
Clang!
After blocking Zafir's successive attacks, Il-mok grimaced and muttered.
"The hell is the fucker babbling about this whole time?"
He couldn't understand his opponent's words, but one thing was certain.
His opponent was a genuine fanatic.
Those eyes that didn’t hold a single shred of doubt about the massacre he was about to do were enough proof.
The problem was that this fanatic was undeniably skilled.
"Become a sacrifice in this Holy War!!"
When the man shouted in an incomprehensible language and swung his curved blade repeatedly, the Saber Qi formed along the curved blade twisted at strange angles and flew toward Il-mok.
Simultaneously, the man launched himself as if the sandy desert floor were flat ground, weaving through the undulating Saber Qi like a dance as he attacked Il-mok with his curved blade.
'Damn it.'
Because his feet sank into the sand, Il-mok found his lightness skill was currently awkward to use. He swallowed his curses he barely managed to block or deflect the man's attacks.
Unlike fighting weaklings, unfamiliar terrain was a significant disadvantage when fighting against a skilled opponent.
The only saving grace was that he had somewhat adapted to the scimitar as a weapon thanks to several encounters since his days at the Hall of the Demonic Way.
But the main reason Il-mok swallowed his curses wasn't simply because of the battle's disadvantages.
'It's dangerous for the party.'
Even while blocking and evading the fanatic's curved blade, Il-mok was reading the flow of the battlefield as a whole.
While he was held up by this fanatic, the tide of battle had subtly shifted.
Ouyang Hyeok was being held by three skilled opponents, hence halting his advance. With the two strongest fighters tied up, the battle wasn't flowing into the one-sided massacre it had been before.
It was a delicate situation.
The situation didn't feel like a certain defeat. Even with him tied up by this fanatic, they definitely had a chance of winning.
But...
‘What's the point of winning if half my men end up dead?’
If this kept up, some of those who had set out on this journey might not be able to return to the main headquarters.
They’ll become the new owners of those graves abandoned in the desert that he had seen the day they left for the western expedition.
Just then, the expression of the fanatic who had been swinging his curved blade while laughing heartily suddenly changed.
"You bastard! Where are you looking!!"
Noticing that Il-mok was distracted, Zafir pressed his attack even more fiercely.
It wasn't because he felt disrespected. He was afraid that killing an opponent who wasn't giving his all wouldn't qualify him to be reborn as the Great Warrior.
And his intention worked perfectly.
BOOM!!!
Il-mok's gaze as he blocked Zafir's curved blade rippling with Sword Force was now entirely focused on his opponent.
'Finish this as quickly as possible and help the others.'
Either way, he judged that killing this man first was the only way to save even one more of his companions.
Each time Il-mok executed his footwork, the sandy ground sank deep.
BOOM!!
Whenever their weapons clashed, the intense impact would send the surrounding sand flying.
When the Sword Qi or Saber Qi they swung missed, huge scars would form in the sandy ground around them.
The fight was on a whole other level.
Slash!
Those who had carelessly wandered near them had their bodies chopped in half, and naturally, no one could approach the area around their battlefield.
But even if there was no one nearby, even if his eyes were on Zafir, his hearing wasn't paralyzed.
Slash.
"Aaargh!"
Every time he heard the sound of cutting or screaming from nearby, Il-mok's attention couldn't help but drift in that direction.
"O God..."
Whenever someone uttered their death cry in the incomprehensible Arabic language, Il-mok found himself sighing in relief.
He was really relieved that an enemy had died, not an ally.
With his concentration wavering, a thought suddenly occurred to Il-mok.
‘Since when did I become a person who rejoices in someone’s death?’
Back when he was a civil servant, he used to silently curse the troublesome complainants who harassed him.
But no matter how bad they were, he wouldn't have rejoiced at their deaths.
It was the same after awakening as Il-mok.
Far from rejoicing at anyone's death, he couldn't even bring himself to kill anyone.
Even when he was first caught up in a conspiracy and nearly died. Even during his sparring match with Baek Cheon and the bastard used lethal techniques.
He may have subdued them, but he had never thought about wanting to kill them.
So when did he change?
It's just like back then.’
At the Hall of the Demonic Way, when they were attacked by Allah's fanatics.
With the thought of survival as the sole goal, he had cut them down without any other thoughts.
Weirdly enough, he hadn't felt any revulsion despite that being his first time killing human beings.
Maybe it was because the situation was similar to back then that the memories of that day kept creeping up.
‘Stop thinking.’
As if forcibly trying to shake off the distracting thoughts, Il-mok roughly swung the Ascension Sword and clashed with the fanatic's curved blade.
BOOM!!!
Another explosion rang out, but beyond the explosion, Il-mok heard someone’s scream.
"AAAAAH!!"
He forced himself to hold back and told himself.
‘Focus! I have to kill him first!’
But for some reason, the more he pushed himself, the more those wandering thoughts began churning in his mind.
At some point—
'As the name suggests, the Realm of Truth (認解境) literally means the realm where one comes to know (認) and comprehend (解) something. And that 'something' I'm talking about isn't just limited to martial arts."
The advice that the Heavenly Demon gave to Il-mok began resurfacing in his mind,
—You must know yourself.
At the time, he had dismissed it with "Who am I? I'm me," as if it were a Zen riddle.
But for some reason, Il-mok couldn't give the same answer now.
'Who am I?'
The moment the question the Heavenly Demon had posed came to mind, the things he had experienced since coming to the Western Regions surfaced in his mind.
The memories of recalling information about Muslims that he had seen and heard in the modern era.
The strange feelings he had fallen into while treading the Silk Road.
Seeing ruins that should have been reduced to rubble by the Yuan Dynasty still standing.
The mural of the Goguryeo people painted in the palace of Samarkand.
'...Am I Il-mok? Or am I Seo Ji-hoon?'
***
(TL Note: Peak incoming)