Shattering the Murim Alliance Vanguard
Thud. Inside the hastily erected command tent, the three severed heads I'd tossed onto the floor rolled around lazily.
"Tang family elder, family head, and Beggars' Sect elder. Three heads in total."
At my words, Geom-ma and Dokgo Hwaryeon, along with the vanguard captains, stared blankly at me and the heads in turn.
They couldn't find the words to respond to the corpses of two Superb realm experts and one Fire Realm master, their lips twitching silently.
"Oh, and the Tang family survivors have all retreated back to Sichuan, so keep that in mind for the battles ahead."
"...How exactly did you manage that?"
As the vanguard's overall commander, Geom-ma voiced the question everyone's eyes were asking. I scratched my head with a smirk.
"Uh... I got some help from Sima Elder. Honestly, their forces needed a little trimming..."
A few captains, who'd been harboring quiet gripes about the enemy numbers while glancing at Geom-ma, slumped in relief.
In a real fight, the elites might hold their own, but the rabble would've been their burden. I'd smoothed that over for them, so they were breathing easier.
"...Winning without risk is important, of course. So, how many Murim Alliance troops did you take out?"
"I only handled it with poison and hidden weapons, so I don't know the exact count... but roughly a thousand, I'd say?"
The tent's easing tension seized up again.
"A... thousand?"
The Murim Alliance force marching on our Divine Cult numbered around three or four thousand. Even with Sima's help, I'd soloed over a third of them. Everyone gawked like I'd grown a second head.
"Why so shocked? Isn't that what ambushes are for? Knock out the Tang family quick, spike the water supply with poison or rig traps for mass poisoning, and suddenly all the First-rate and below are just flies—except for the Peak experts and up."
I'd claimed a third of their force, but really, I'd only culled the absolute trash—the sub-First-rate cannon fodder. It baffled me they'd freak out over squashing bugs.
Well... their idea of 'war' is just charging in mobs, swinging swords, and clanging in life-or-death duels... Wait, no. Is it because of the imperial family that they can't even think like this?
Geom-ma and Dokgo Hwaryeon's awkward glances sparked a sudden doubt about the palace.
"Hey... you think the imperial family might have something to say about this?"
"...There could be some noise if word gets out."
Dokgo Hwaryeon nodded gravely at my question.
"Even if we respect each other's no-interference zones, a simple duel-resolved dispute is one thing. But actual war-level chaos? Bound to raise eyebrows."
"Uh... so am I fucked?"
"...Hard to say. It was your solo night op, far from civilians, beyond Kunlun Sect's turf with little Central Plains sway... Might be fine, but who knows."
Her uneasy eyes met mine, and she forced a bright smile, patting my hand reassuringly. My brain kicked into gear.
This reeks of scapegoat setup...
Geom-ma and Dokgo Hwaryeon, now blood-bound to me, looked worried despite the hassle. But the captains' stares—straight-up "crazy bastard" vibes—cemented it.
But what can I do now? Prep time's short. Even if the palace steps in, who knows if or how. Just brace for the backstab for now...
For a moment, I stewed on future fallout. Then an idea hit, one that'd screw the righteous punks even harder. Confidence surged; I nodded firmly.
"Don't sweat it. Even if the palace kicks up a fuss, I've got a way around it. Just focus on slaughtering those righteous fucks."
My sudden swagger shifted their faces to "yeah, that's more like it," nodding along.
I resented the "slimy snake" rep Geom-ma mentioned—always wriggling escape routes—but as vice military officer, it was fact. Hell, this showed competence; my lips curled up.
"If the vice officer says so, there must be a solid plan... We'll assume that and handle the rest."
"You do that."
Geom-ma nodded satisfied, the young leader beaming faith. I smirked at them and stood.
"Then I'll head back. Can't hog all the glory, right?"
"Ahem..."
"If the vice officer insists..."
Unlike their tough looks—neighborhood uncle vibes—they perked up at my graceful exit. Prickly bunch.
"I'll be waiting, young leader...?"
With our prior deal—my merits plenty—I shot a teasing grin. She chuckled back, smiling.
"Yeah. I'll return with victory news too."
Bowing to the seated crew, I slipped out of the tent.
The vanguard aimed for skirmishes, not head-on brawls. They'd snag worthy scalps, call it good, and retreat to the cult. Normally, righteous pursuit or vanguard wipeout would worry, but after I dog-walked them, they'd hunker down fearing more ambushes—no deep pushes.
Mind lighter, I turned toward the Divine Cult.
+++
"...So that's why I came to ask..."
"..."
Back at the Divine Cult, after privately reporting to Cheonma, I laid out my vanguard exploits to the strategist in his office for backing on screwing the righteous scum. His jaw dropped and stayed there.
"Hey, old man. You listening?"
I jabbed his forehead rudely; he snapped to, flushing red and roaring.
"A-Are you insane?!"
"Ah... shut it..."
"Y-You—!"
I twirled my pinky in my ear, flicking wax. His goatee quivered.
"Of all things, thunder bombs?! And a plague?!"
"No, not thunder bombs—thunder bomb-like. And the plague? Hard to pin on anyone. Spread via jiangshi."
"...Fine... Plagues pop up and vanish naturally by region anyway. But thunder bomb-like? It's still gunpowder you used!"
Downgrading zombie virus to "plague" was iffy, but explaining to an ignorant geezer? Nah. I glossed over virus, hit explosives—he exploded predictably, jabbing a finger.
"Even if unwitting, using palace-controlled gunpowder...!!!"
"Psh... All part of the plan. No worries. Heh."
"Uh, what?"
"C'mon, Strategist. Think. Would I blast gunpowder without a scheme?"
He mulled my track record; his twisted grimace softened to trusting tones, face normalizing. Psycho tag-team switch-up was terrifying.
"W-Well... fair. But where'd you get the powder?"
"Eh, skip the trivia."
"N-No, palace-managed stuff—source matters..."
"Heh!"
I scowled murderously at his on-point probe. The old fart, seasoned as hell, grumbled and snorted.
"Fine... Everyone hides something. Won't pry, seeing your face."
"Heh. You'll know in time."
"Tch. So...? What's this plan you're so cocky about? That scheming brain's brewing something vicious again."
His tsundere grump—built-up grudges—I smiled through it and spoke.
"Got any palace connections, Strategist?"
Odd question puzzled him briefly; he pondered, then nodded big, recalling something.
"Funny you ask. Got a pigeon message—academy buddy's now close to the Third Princess. Not asking me to pull strings...?"
"Think I'm that basic? Geez..."
"Kh-hem..."
I tsked and shook my head; he stroked his beard, inwardly sheepish. I leaned in, whispering.
"Just send one pigeon via that friend."
"...Contents?"
Grudgingly agreeing to hear it out, I grinned wide.
"Treason."