Chapter 298 : Evil Cult (3)
Chapter 298: Evil Cult (3)
After gauging the situation for a moment, the patriarchs ultimately agreed to the trade.
Buying goods from the East and selling them in other cities was a profitable business, and with the riches from the Omar Family, they had surplus capital to spare.
The haggling between Il-mok and the patriarchs continued for quite some time.
Il-mok furrowed his brow and asked. "Aren't you trying to get these for nothing? The Omar Family paid a much higher price."
At his pointed remark, Ahmed wiped his forehead once before responding.
"Ahem. There seems to be a misunderstanding. The Omar Family purchased your goods at prices far higher than what they trade for in the central or western regions. The reason was probably that they thought they could get the money back."
Only then did Il-mok grasp the truth.
‘What a ruthless bastard. He planned to rob us from the start, so he bid high just to keep the other families from getting the goods.’
In the end, he had no choice but to sell the goods for less than what he had sold them to the Omar Family.
The buyers also needed to take the goods elsewhere and sell them for at least some profit.
Still, compared to the purchase price in the Central Plains, this was easily more than five times the amount, so there was nothing regrettable about it.
‘If I include the money earned from the Omar Family, I've made dozens of times the profit.’
It wasn't a bad trip. Il-mok left the meeting satisfied.
***
Even after completing the trade, Il-mok remained in Merv for another five days.
He needed to make sure the seriously wounded recovered.
Once the seriously wounded could move about reasonably well, they departed Merv with the injured loaded onto carriages.
Before they knew it, their numbers had increased by nearly twenty more.
During their five-day stay in Merv, another slave merchant had arrived, and they had purchased nomads, white people, and black people through him.
The sight of a procession of ninety people moving forward was quite peculiar.
Some of the slaves were loaded onto carts or carriages, while others followed the procession on foot.
And some of the Black Tiger Corps members who weren't seriously wounded walked alongside those slaves, striking up conversations or teaching them letters.
One man was puzzled by this strange situation and asked the middle-aged man beside him.
This was the man who had somehow become the leader among the white slaves brought here.
"They've even untied all our legs like this, so why isn't anyone trying to escape?"
The man had become the leader not because of any special leadership qualities, but because he could speak several similar yet different European languages. He was James, an Englishman and former deckhand.
James had spent over twenty years sailing to various parts of Europe, which allowed him to learn multiple languages.
That didn't mean all sailors learned multiple languages like him. He simply had a talent for languages.
Thanks to that, even during his sailing days, fellow sailors would often remark that he had "a peculiar talent."
In response to the newly captured French slave's question, James shook his head and answered in somewhat awkward French.
"Escape? That's completely insane."
"Hm? Is it because we're surrounded by desert, so escaping would be pointless anyway?"
"That's not the problem. The problem is that escape itself is impossible."
"???"
When the Frenchman looked puzzled, James glanced somewhere with an expression full of fear at the young man leisurely riding his camel with an indifferent face.
"That man right there is the Demon King."
"...Demon King?"
"Shh! What if someone hears you!"
When James spoke with a startled expression, the young Frenchman let out a dumbfounded laugh.
‘He must have gone mad from being a slave for so long.’
But the young Frenchman didn't know.
"He's a monster, a monster."
"Don't be fooled by those dim-looking eyes. He's a devil."
Throughout the procession, the existing slaves were whispering similar words in different languages to the newly arrived slaves.
And Il-mok, having entered the Realm of Truth, didn't miss a single one of their whispers.
‘...Why do they keep whispering about me?’
The only problem was that they were all speaking foreign languages, so he couldn't understand them.
***
Another five days passed, and they arrived in Samarkand.
As promised, Il-mok began settling accounts with Muhammad Majid.
To be precise, he handed over thirty percent of the sales revenue from what they had sold to the five houses of Merv.
However, Il-mok’s calculation was that there was no reason to include the money earned by looting the Omar Family in the settlement.
Similarly, the money received from selling goods to the Omar Family was also not included in the settlement. After all, that transaction had been nullified entirely.
After completing the settlement, Il-mok returned to his companions for a night's rest. Muhammad Majid then questioned the subordinates who had accompanied the Eastern merchants.
“You’re back later than I thought. Did it take a long time to sell the goods?”
In response, his subordinates explained to the Family Head what they had witnessed.
"Not only the Rahman Family, but the Omar Family as well..."
Muhammad Majid let out a sigh of relief after hearing the complete story.
What if, on the day the Rahman Family had fallen, he had made the greedy decision to attack them?
‘...Our house would also have disappeared into the river of history.’
The thought terrified him. Muhammad Majid bowed in the direction of the Holy Land.
"Allahu Akbar."
He thanked God for watching over them.
***
After resting for one night in Samarkand, they purchased necessary supplies and departed from the city.
After several days of travel, they stopped at the Muslim village they had visited before, and after several more days, they reunited with Ohalak's tribe.
They weren't by the river this time.
Nomads constantly moved in search of feed for their livestock, after all.
"Around this time of year, they would have moved in this direction."
Following Ohalak’s lead, they found the tribe in a completely different spot.
"You've worked hard, Ohalak."
Il-mok handed him a box filled with silver along with his farewell gift.
"Thank you."
Maybe it was all the talking they did on the road, but Ohalak’s Chinese sounded much better than before.
While looking at Ohalak, Il-mok brought up something he had been thinking about for a while.
“Our merchant group is planning to establish an outpost near that river where we first met. It seems difficult for your tribe to survive because of the Muslims, so how about continuing to work with us from now on?"
After pondering for a moment, Ohalak answered.
"I will speak to the chieftain."
Ohalak then approached his tribespeople and conversed with the chieftain.
The conversation didn't seem to be going smoothly, as it dragged on for quite some time with occasional raised voices.
After the lengthy discussion, Ohalak approached Il-mok again.
His expression seemed both relieved and regretful at the same time.
"The chieftain has agreed."
"...It doesn't seem like he agreed readily."
Ohalak stammered as he briefly recounted his conversation with the chieftain.
"The chieftain values tradition highly."
To persuade the chieftain, Ohalak had shared what he had seen and heard while traveling with Il-mok's group.
"The Muslims are terrifying. If we stay on our own, we never know when they might kill us."
Throughout the journey, Ohalak had keenly felt two things.
One is the brutality of the Muslims, and the other is the strength of these people.
"I look forward to working with you in the future."
Il-mok burst into hearty laughter.
"Hahaha. We look forward to working with you as well."
"I will wait here until the next journey."
But Il-mok shook his head at Ohalak’s words.
"What are you talking about? You're coming with us right now."
He needed an interpreter for the next plans he had formulated while traveling through the Western Regions.
"R-Right now, you say?"
And so, Ohalak’s warm smile was wiped out in the next instant.
The terrifying events he had experienced in the Western Regions flashed through his mind once more.
***
After spending one night sleeping on the grasslands, they bid farewell to the nomads and headed east.
They traveled for several days through the long desert that stretched beyond where the grasslands ended.
After passing the graves they had seen when departing for the Western Regions, they finally arrived at the inn that marked the edge of Xinjiang.
They rested at the inn once more, then traveled through the desert within Xinjiang for several more days.
Finally, they arrived at the entrance to the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult's main headquarters.
"Black Tiger Corps Leader, please send the seriously wounded to the medical hall first."
"I shall do so, Young Master. Then, what should we do with those people?"
The Black Tiger Corps Leader gestured to the slaves they purchased in Merv.
The ones he had promised to free if they worked for the Cult for just five years.
"I will report to Master first, so could you have the Black Tiger Corps manage them until then?"
"I will make sure they don't cause any trouble."
Il-mok nodded at Ouyang Hyeok’s reliable response and headed to the Heavenly Demon Palace without delay.
His maids accompanied him, but they stopped at the gate to the Heavenly Demon Palace.
“I’ll be back soon.”
"I will wait here. You two go ahead to Windrock Palace and clean so that the Young Master can rest."
Jeong Hyeon and Ju Seo-yeon headed to Windrock Palace at Jin Hayeon’s command and Il-mok entered the Heavenly Demon Palace alone.
Unlike when he had returned from the Central Plains, only the Heavenly Demon and the Hidden Guard Pavilion Lord were present in the hall.
Since he couldn't send a letter from the Western Regions announcing his return to the Cult, this was essentially a sudden visit.
"Your Eighth Disciple, Il-mok, greets you, Master."
Seeing his disciple back after a month, the Heavenly Demon welcomed Il-mok with an uncharacteristically surprised expression.
"Welcome back, youngest. You’ve changed completely in just a month.”
He wasn't talking about his looks.
The Heavenly Demon could immediately tell that Il-mok had entered the Realm of Truth.
“Hahaha. You must have been through something special out in the West.”
"All of this is thanks to your teachings, Master."
Il-mok expressed his respect once more, attributing all credit to the Heavenly Demon.
To some extent, it was true.
He had reached enlightenment during his death match with Zafir because he remembered the philosophical question his Master had given him.
Well, it was also true that the same question had triggered a Heart Demon that nearly sent him straight to the afterlife.
"Hahaha. I was worried you were growing too fast, but I guess even I underestimated your talent.”
A growth rate that surpassed even Hyeokryeon Il-hwi, who had risen to the position of Heavenly Demon. The Heavenly Demon laughed with pure delight.
Meanwhile, Il-mok was also gazing at the Heavenly Demon in admiration.
‘So this is what they mean by there is a sky beyond the sky.’
Though Il-mok had undergone an Overhaul Body Transformation and could now commune with the world, he still couldn't even begin to gauge his Master's level.
If one achieves mastery of the Heavenly Demon Divine Arts, can anyone reach the same realm as Master?
‘Can one reach the same height as Master if they achieve mastery of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art?’
While Il-mok was pondering this question, the Heavenly Demon asked him.
"So. I'm quite curious about what our youngest experienced in the Western Regions to have grown this much. Why don't you tell this old man your story?”
Il-mok organized his thoughts for a moment before calmly beginning to speak.
He talked about leaving Kashgar and meeting the nomads.
He told him how some were nice and gave them food and shelter, while others who had converted to Islam attacked them.
He recounted how he ended up hiring a nomad as an interpreter because of that incident.
He also mentioned the horse bandits who claimed to be Muslims, and the Rahman family, who pretended to be friends only to lead them into a trap.
"Hah... What exactly is the doctrine of Islamic faith that makes them so brutal?"
"Your disciple is equally curious. I don't know if their scripture actually tells them to do that, or if they’re just evil people twisting the words to suit themselves.”
“If we ever find a translated copy of their scripture, I’d like to read it at least once.”
Il-mok nodded and spoke. "Still, it wasn't as if there were no people we could communicate with at all."
Il-mok told him about the Majid Family, which had approached them after the fall of the Rahman Family.
In the process, the topic of coffee naturally came up.
"Are you saying that there is someone within our Divine Cult who is colluding with a faction from the Central Plains just to kill you?"
A heavy demonic energy flowed from the Heavenly Demon's body, filling the Heavenly Demon Palace with dread.