So? Did Someone Force You to Become the Heavenly Demon?

Chapter 302: The Grasslands (2)

Il-mok's so-called master plan for world domination was rolling along smoothly.

With Ohalak tagging along as a translator, Seo Jae-pil wandered around the nomad camp with a few guys from the Demonic Cult.

"Cough, cough."

During one such visit, he spotted a young nomadic child coughing in a woman's arms and approached her with a warm smile.

"We happen to be physicians. If you don't mind, may I take the child's pulse?"

Ohalak translated, and after a moment's hesitation, the woman nodded.

Seo Jae-pil examined the child with the utmost care.

When he finished, he turned to the woman.

"It appears to be a common cold, so there's no need to worry too much. We brought medicinal herbs with us, so I'll brew some for the child."

Hearing Ohalak's translation, the nomad woman let out a massive sigh of relief and beamed at him.

"She says thank you so much."

Hearing that, Seo Jae-pil just smiled softly and answered back.

"Hahaha. We of the Mai. Tre. Ya. Lu. Mi. Nous. Cult never turnss a blind eye to a sick child."

Seo Jae-pil placed particular emphasis on the name "Maitreya Luminous Cult" and instructed the others with him to begin boiling the medicinal decoction.

They were physicians who had come along to assist him.

While they prepared the medicine, Seo Jae-pill added. "And that's not all. If you follow the teachings of Maitreya, you can learn many wonderful things. Naturally, you won't even catch something as trivial as a cold."

Just like that, Seo Jae-pil kicked off his aggressive street-preaching.

He was actually pretty used to doing this. It was something he did all the time back when he was treating patients in Pingliang County and Lanzhou.

While he enthusiastically pitched his religion like a sketchy snake-oil salesman, Seo Jae-pil was thinking something else entirely.

'Coming along with Young Master Il-mok was definitely the right call!'

It wasn't because he was some devout Divine Cult doctor thrilled to be leading a crusade.

It was because his eyes were practically gleaming with the crazed look of a mad scientist as he studied the nomads.

'If they're from a different ethnic group, the exact same disease might show totally different symptoms. This is incredible material for my research!'

He was just ecstatic that Il-mok had handed him a brand new research project on a silver platter.

* * *

The next morning, Il-mok and his party left the nomadic settlement and headed for the next grassland and river the tribal chief had told them about.

The proselytizing led by Jeong Hyeon and Seo Jae-pil had barely lasted a full day, so it was hard to expect much impact, but Il-mok didn't care.

They were just the advance party, after all.

The goods meant to be transported through the main base to the Western Regions hadn't even been prepared yet.

Until all the trade goods piled up in Lanzhou, they were basically just out here doing a test run of the route.

It doubled as an opportunity to spread the name "Maitreya Luminous Cult" among the nomads and build some goodwill.

'If this were one of the games from my old life, you could basically call this farming reputation.'

Remembering his old days as Seo Ji-hoon, Il-mok nodded to himself.

He planned to save the hardcore preaching for after they finished scouting the route.

They left the grassland again and traveled along the barren desert for a good while.

Another stretch of grassland appeared in the distance, but it had gotten too late, so they camped out for the night before resuming their journey.

Setting out early the next morning, they didn't reach the greeneries until around noon. There, nestled beside a small stream that looked like a brook, they found another settlement.

But this tribe gave off a totally different vibe compared to the one they met two days ago.

Over in one corner, guys were butchering sheep and throwing logs on fires, making the whole place look really busy and chaotic.

Il-mok had a hunch and asked Ohalak.

"Looks like a funeral."

He recalled the time during their journey to the Western Regions when he'd mistaken a funeral for a festival.

"It seems so."

After confirming Il-mok's guess, Ohalak took the lead and approached the settlement to communicate with the nomads.

"Eek."

But when the nomads drew their bows and weapons, Ohalak flinched and backed away.

"...Is there a problem?"

"Th-they say not to come anywhere near until the funeral is over."

"Hmm. Must be a custom unique to this tribe."

Il-mok tilted his head once, then nodded in understanding.

Funeral customs varied from region to region and country to country, after all.

"It seems to be their tradition, so we should respect it. Let's pull back a bit and rest at a distance."

At Il-mok's instruction, they moved farther from the nomadic settlement and set up camp.

They spent a good while resting, circulating their internal energy, or casually practicing martial arts to pass the time.

Eventually, several people emerged from the settlement and approached them.

The sky was still bright simply because the sun set late in the northern pastures. It was gradually approaching the time when they ought to eat dinner.

One of the men who approached stepped forward and spoke.

"Thank you for waiting. Could you tell us why you've come here?"

After Ohalak translated, Il-mok answered.

"We're merchants heading to the Western Regions along the northern edge of the Tianshan Mountain Range. We'd like to stay here for a night, buy some water and food from you, and ask about the road west. We'll pay whatever it costs."

"That's not for me to decide on my own. I'll ask the chief and come back."

The man returned to the settlement with his companions, then came back shortly after.

"The chief says we're preparing dinner anyway, so you're welcome to join us."

"We appreciate the invitation."

Accepting the offer, Il-mok walked toward the settlement with his party.

'So it really was just a strict funeral custom, huh? They're acting completely different from a few hours ago.'

That question was soon answered through his conversation with the chief.

Right after entering the settlement and exchanging brief greetings, the chief bowed his head once and spoke.

"Hahaha. I apologize for treating our guests so coldly. We've been on edge because of some rumors we've heard recently. I hope you understand."

"Rumors? Could you tell me what kind?"

"There are rumors that people from the Central Plains have been stealing the bodies of warriors."

"???"

Il-mok was about to dismiss it as nonsense when...

Vrriiing.

The Ascension Sword at his hip began to vibrate, and a suspicion crossed his mind.

'...If it involves corpses, there's a strong chance the Blood Cult is involved.'

It seemed worth investigating further, so Il-mok pressed the elder.

"Could you tell me more about that?"

For some reason, the elder turned his gaze toward the distant northeast and began.

"They say that long ago, two powerful tribes fought over a vast pastureland far from here."

It was an unexpected preamble, but Il-mok decided to hear him out.

This was just how elders told stories, after all.

"When too many tribespeople had died, the two Khagans decided to settle it themselves. Both chiefs were great warriors of the steppe, each worthy of being called a Baatar (Баатар)."

The elder continued as if he'd witnessed the battle firsthand.

"The fight between those two seemingly superhuman chiefs left the pastureland where the battle took place completely devastated. But no matter how extraordinary the combatants, there must always be a winner and a loser. In the end, the Jarchigud Khagan had his heart pierced and lost his life."

According to the elder, the body of the fallen Jarchigud khagan was given a Sky Burial, as was their custom.

Nomads moved from pasture to pasture on a regular cycle to find grazing land for their livestock, so rather than burying the dead in a fixed location, Sky Burial was their tradition.

"And as the two Khagans had agreed, the Jarchigud tribe was absorbed into the Merkit tribe... but a problem arose later. The body of the Jarchigud Khagan which had been laid out for Sky Burial vanished into thin air."

The elder explained that the Jarchigud tribe immediately blamed the Merkits, starting a full-blown rebellion because they thought the winners had desecrated their great chief after killing him.

"But without their great chief, the Jarchigud tribe couldn't match the Merkit tribe. They were beaten back in battle after battle. Then, while they were being pushed further and further out, a certain rumor reached both the Jarchigud and Merkit tribes."

"...A rumor about the missing body?"

"Correct. Similar incidents had been occurring in other regions as well, with bodies left out for Sky Burial disappearing. Someone even came forward claiming to have seen Central Plains people taking the corpses and fleeing."

Il-mok furrowed his brow.

'The corpse of a master titled as a Baatar in the northern grasslands. Something about this doesn't sit right.'

For some reason, the Jiangshi he'd seen in Sichuan came to mind.

"Do you happen to know when this incident took place?"

"Hmm. I didn't ask for the exact date, but it was probably about four or five years ago."

"Has anything like that happened recently?"

"The grasslands here are so vast that rumors tend to spread quite slowly. But no, I haven't heard of anything recent."

A corpse theft from four or five years ago.

The Blood Cult's trap and the Jiangshi in Sichuan were roughly a year ago.

'The incident in Sichuan was a year ago, but they must have been making preparations well before that.'

Everything considered, the timeline synced up almost too perfectly.

While Il-mok was mentally connecting the dots to the Blood Cult—|

"Eventually, it came to light that it had all been a misunderstanding between the two tribes, but by then the bad blood had grown too deep. It was too late to reunite. The defeated Jarchigud tribe left the great pastureland and has been scraping by, wandering between the desert and the grasslands."

The elder kept talking without pause.

"Hehehe. Because of those rumors, even our funeral customs have been changing lately. Rather than risk having a body stolen during a Sky Burial, we cremate the dead and scatter the ashes while offering prayers to Tngri."

Like most grandpas out there, once the old man started telling a story, he just talked people's ears off without taking a break.

But since Il-mok had actually scored some incredibly precious intel out of it, he wasn't exactly complaining.

"Then how did you come to hear about all this, Chief? You seem to know the details as if you'd been there yourself."

"Hehehe. Two years ago, I happened to encounter the wandering Jarchigud tribe and had a conversation with them. That's why we were so wary of you earlier."

Sensing the elder was about to launch into another lengthy tale, Il-mok quickly interrupted.

"Do you happen to know where the Jarchigud tribe is now? Or at least how I might find them?"

If it meant a major detour from his route, he was prepared to let it go. But if they were reasonably close to the path toward the Tianshan Mountain Range, he definitely wanted to pay them a visit.

Anything involving the Blood Cult rubbed him the wrong way after all.

Vrriinng.

Mostly because the Ascension Sword, which had been chilling out for a while, was practically throwing a tantrum at his side again.

"We don't know where they are now. But I can tell you where we met them before."

At the elder's answer, Il-mok gave a look, and Jin Hayeon quickly prepared paper, a brush, and ink.

The elder gripped the brush with clumsy fingers and sketched a rough map.

'It's not a straight shot toward the Tianshan Mountain Range, but it doesn't stray too far from the route either.'

Breathing a quiet sigh of relief as he checked over the map, Il-mok looked back up at the old man.

Stumbling onto info about the Blood Cult was a total surprise, but he still had a job to do.

"As thanks for your hospitality, I'd like to offer some help. Are there any sick people among your tribe?"

The Blood Cult was the Blood Cult, and proselytizing was proselytizing.

"Among the physicians of our Mai. Tre. Ya. Lu. Mi. Nous. Cult, there is one of exceptional skill."

At Il-mok's introduction, Seo Jae-pil stepped forward with a beaming smile.

"The name's Seo Jae-pil."

His eyes were practically glowing with the look of a mad scientist hunting for fresh lab ra—Ahem, no, patients.