Chapter 218
Chapter 218
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 218
Chapter Title: Chapter 6. Since the Paths We Walk Differ, the Destinations We Reach Are Different (3)
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Among the Demonic Cult warriors stationed at Hang Mountain, if there was one busiest man, it had to be the Strategist Sang Han-cheon.
The Hang Mountain Sect's scriptorium had become Sang Han-cheon's residence. The Demonic Cult warriors had expected him to spring into action right away. But contrary to their expectations, Sang Han-cheon had holed up inside and refused to show his face.
Many Demonic Cult warriors had come seeking him out, but none had actually laid eyes on him.
The scriptorium that now served as Sang Han-cheon's residence stood empty. The bookshelves and scrolls that once filled the rooms had long been discarded, leaving only a single desk, a single chair, and a single bed in the vast space.
Sang Han-cheon sat in the lone chair, staring straight ahead. Hanging on the wall in front of him was an enormous map of the Central Plains.
Ever since arriving here, the only thing Sang Han-cheon had done was gaze at the map. He spent most of the day seated, contemplating it motionlessly.
"Hmm."
A spark of life began to flicker across Sang Han-cheon's face, which had been as expressionless as a stone statue. It was a change that came after four days in this place.
Sang Han-cheon rose from his chair.
After sitting still for days on end, every joint in his body ached. Yet not a hint of discomfort crossed his face.
He called out to someone.
"Il-mong."
"Yes, Strategist."
In an instant, a figure in white appeared soundlessly before him.
His hair was white, his eyebrows white. Even his eyes and skin were white. He was a man who seemed almost unreal.
Il-mong was Sang Han-cheon's trusted confidant.
He heeded only Sang Han-cheon's orders and no one else's. In fact, so few even knew of his existence.
"What changes have occurred while I've been here?"
"Two more of the Seven Great Demons have arrived."
"Who?"
"Full Moon Immortal Jin Hye-won and Invincible Spear Dan Ho-sang. The Cult Leader said he would send the rest of the Seven Great Demons if desired."
"Yun Gwang and Lee Seon-chang haven't come, I take it?"
"If you command it, Strategist, they will arrive within three days."
"No, never mind. This works out even better."
Sang Han-cheon smiled.
Yun Gwang's moniker was Heavenly Killing Divine Whip, and Lee Seon-chang's was Gale Divine Fist. They too were powerhouses among the Seven Great Demons.
"I'll give them separate orders later."
"Understood."
"And summon all the executives here."
"Right now?"
"Yes."
"The Saintess as well?"
"Even if she's just a figurehead, she is still one of the executives."
"I'll summon her too."
"Indeed."
Sang Han-cheon gave a gentle smile.
Il-mong vanished as if he had never been there to begin with. Sang Han-cheon showed no surprise.
He leaned against the window and gazed outside.
Spring was in full bloom. Green buds sprouted from once-barren branches, and flowers released their fragrance.
Sang Han-cheon savored the warm spring breeze.
In the meantime, Deng Tian-su and the others among the Seven Great Demons arrived first at his residence. The executives followed, and with Eun Yu-kyung entering last, the door closed.
Despite the crowd gathered inside, the room was utterly silent, not even a breath to be heard. All eyes were fixed on Sang Han-cheon's back as he stared out the window.
*Strategist.*
Sang Han-cheon, known as Ma Cheon-su-sa.
Though his appearance was ordinary, it was said that the schemes in his brilliant mind pierced the heavens.
Whenever he gathered people like this, countless lives were lost and rivers of blood flowed. It was impossible not to be tense.
The suffocating silence in the room was broken by Deng Tian-su.
"Strategist, everyone is here."
"Is that so? I was lost in thought and failed to greet you properly. I hope you've all been well. It's good to see your faces."
Sang Han-cheon turned with a smiling face, slowly scanning the room. The warriors who met his gaze dipped their heads in acknowledgment. But Eun Yu-kyung's face was noticeably stiff.
*Has that monster finally begun to stir?*
There wasn't a single non-monster in this room. In terms of raw martial prowess alone, they were among the elite of the Demonic Cult. Yet even they feared Sang Han-cheon.
Killing dozens or hundreds posed no issue for them. But Sang Han-cheon wielded them like limbs.
When Sang Han-cheon moved, thousands or tens of thousands perished without a second thought.
In Eun Yu-kyung's eyes, mountains of corpses and seas of blood already loomed.
At that moment, Sang Han-cheon's gaze stopped on her.
"The Saintess seems troubled."
"No, Strategist. I was just lost in thought for a moment. My apologies."
"Not at all. It happens."
Sang Han-cheon flashed a meaningful smile. Somehow, it felt ominous.
"Saintess."
"Yes?"
"I have a favor to ask of you. It's for the good of the Cult, so I trust you'll oblige."
As Sang Han-cheon spoke, his smile deepened, while Eun Yu-kyung's face gradually hardened.
***
To the left of the main gate at the Sakju Branch stood rows of recently built barracks. They had been erected to house the influx of warriors.
Right after the Orthodox-Demonic Great War broke out, countless warriors had poured into the Sakju Branch. Most were dispatched by the Murim Alliance, but many had come of their own accord, driven solely by a sense of justice to uphold righteousness in the martial world.
They weren't from great sects like the Nine Great Sects or Five Great Families. Most hailed from obscure mid- or small sects or were wandering ronin, but their zeal pierced the heavens.
When their numbers surpassed four hundred, the Murim Alliance banded them together into a unit. They were dubbed the Evil-Exterminating Squad.
The Evil-Exterminating Squad was tasked with being the first thrown into battle when war erupted in Sakju, to blunt the Demonic Cult's spearhead. Thus, their barracks were positioned at the outermost edge of the Sakju Branch.
A long line of people stood in front of the Evil-Exterminating Squad's barracks. All were men in shabby clothes, clutching crude wooden bowls and spoons. They were warriors of the squad waiting for their rations.
At the front of the line hung a massive cauldron. Inside bubbled a white gruel of unknown origin.
A cook, apparently dispatched from the kitchens, ladled it out one bowl at a time with a large scoop.
"What is this?"
The warriors stared at their bowls in disbelief. Stirring with their spoons brought up bits of content—mostly vegetables.
"No meat at all? How are we supposed to fight on this?"
"Damn it! Who eats with their mouth anyway?"
"The hell! Fight on this slop?"
Grumbles erupted immediately.
A few hotheads confronted the cook.
"Why's the food like this?"
"Well..."
"We're barely scraping by even stuffing ourselves with meat, and this is what you serve? You skimping on the meat yourself?"
"That's absurd. We just cook with what we're allotted. We're short on supplies ourselves, so we're at a loss too."
The cook defended himself desperately.
Truth be told, he felt wronged. This was all the ingredients sent from above, and he had done his utmost to fill everyone's bellies with what little he had.
Faced with the cook's earnest plea, the warriors who had received their portions fell silent. They had come here with the resolve to defend the martial world, never expecting such poor treatment.
Discrimination against ronin and small sect warriors wasn't new, but they hadn't anticipated it extending to those who had volunteered out of a desire to save the martial world from crisis.
"Rotten luck."
"The world's gone to hell."
The warriors shook their heads wearily, as if too drained to argue further, and dispersed.
Song Kyung was among them.
Song Kyung was a ronin warrior. Though only twenty years old, he knew well how vital it was to uphold justice in the martial world. That was why he had come here—to lend even his meager strength.
"But still, this is too much."
"It'll get better. Just hang in there a bit."
The middle-aged man consoling Song Kyung was Jang Il-wan.
Jang Il-wan was a ronin in his early forties. In the precarious world of wanderers where tomorrow was never guaranteed, surviving twenty years made him a legend. He was also the one Song Kyung respected most.
Song Kyung pouted at Jang Il-wan's words.
"When exactly?"
"I've heard it's because supplies aren't steady. Once the supply lines are secure, proper goods will come through."
"I'll starve before we see any proper supplies."
Song Kyung stirred the watery gruel vigorously with his spoon. As expected, nothing solid caught.
Jang Il-wan smiled.
"Isn't it still better than nothing at all?"
"You're too soft-hearted, as always, big bro."
Song Kyung resignedly began scooping up the gruel.
"Damn, it's foul."
Jang Il-wan watched the incessantly grumbling Song Kyung with fondness.
In moments like this, he seemed like an immature little brother, but when thrown into battle, no one was more reliable than Song Kyung.
Contrary to his gentle looks, Song Kyung possessed considerable skill. It might not match disciples of great sects, but to Jang Il-wan, he was a solid ally.
The two polished off their bowls in short order. With scarcely any solids, it hardly felt like eating.
Song Kyung sucked the gruel from his fingers.
"Wasted my appetite. Tsk."
"Enough whining. You're not a kid."
"I'm still a kid. I'm only twenty."
"That's plenty grown up."
"Tch."
"Wait here a sec."
Jang Il-wan patted the dirt from his rear and stood. Song Kyung eyed him curiously.
"Where you going?"
"The mess hall."
"Huh?"
"My little brother's hungry—how can big bro sit still? I'll check if there's any leftovers at the mess."
"But the cook said this is all there is."
"That's for this allotment. This place doesn't have just one mess hall."
"Huh?"
"You think with all these people, there's only one kitchen? There have to be others. I'll scrounge around and see if any have extras."
"But..."
"Just wait a bit."
"You don't have to."
Song Kyung said that, but he was smiling.
It had been over five years since he started traveling with Jang Il-wan. Jang Il-wan had led and cared for him splendidly all that time.
To Song Kyung, an orphan, Jang Il-wan was brother and father both. For the past five years, he had trusted and followed him, and Jang Il-wan had guided and soothed him all the way here.
Had Jang Il-wan not come, Song Kyung wouldn't have either. To him, his bond with Jang Il-wan outweighed any call of martial world justice.
Song Kyung leaned against a sun-warmed wall, waiting for Jang Il-wan to return.
How much time passed?
"Song Kyung! Kyung-ah!"
Someone suddenly called him and came running. Song Kyung jumped up with a bright face.
"Ah! Second bro."
The burly man dashing toward him was Woo Yang-chun, another ronin following Jang Il-wan, just like Song Kyung.
But Woo Yang-chun's expression was off.
"What's wrong?"
"B-Big trouble."
"Huh?"
Song Kyung shot to his feet.
A bad premonition washed over him.
"B-Big bro..."
"What's wrong with big bro?"
"I don't know! Big bro, he..."
Song Kyung bolted off in the direction Woo Yang-chun had come from.
*Please!*