Chapter 35 - The Volunteer Army
It was a one-sided beatdown, so it didn't take long.
"Phew. That's over."
"Keeping them from getting hurt was the real challenge."
"Treat the wounded and round everyone up."
While the Kunlun Taoists handled the bandit cleanup, Jeong Gwang approached Hwang Ung, who stood there with a soul-drained expression.
"Follow me."
Hwang Ung trailed after him without a word. Jeong Gwang entered an empty room and plopped down on the floor.
"Talk."
"...What about?"
"That sword style. Who taught you?"
"...Family art."
Jeong Gwang was dumbfounded.
"Family art?"
"That's right."
"Heavenly Demon Divine Cult techniques?"
"...!"
Jeong Gwang's face turned icy, then unleashed a bone-chilling killing intent.
Hwang Ung trembled from head to toe.
Death—something he hadn't sensed even when collapsing under Jeong Gwang's single strike—was now closing in.
"Ah. Might kill the poor guy like this."
The pressure vanished as if it had never been.
Jeong Gwang stared at the terrified Hwang Ung and asked deliberately, word by word.
"You're from Hapmil Oh Clan, one of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult's Seven Great Families, right?"
"Gasp!"
"From the look on your face, you didn't even know the origins of your own arts?"
Hwang Ung barely managed to speak.
"...I suspected it might be from the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, but was it really that impressive?"
"Not total garbage."
"But you just said it's from one of the cult's Seven Great Families."
"Which means it's not utterly worthless."
At some point, Jeong Gwang had switched to casual speech. Hwang Ung accepted it as natural, responding politely.
Jeong Gwang's earlier aura had made it so.
"Spill it. The whole truth."
Hwang Ung wasn't much of a talker.
His story came out jumbled and disjointed, but Jeong Gwang pieced it together perfectly.
"So, to sum up: You saved a badly wounded old man, and he taught you martial arts for a few years. No idea who he was."
"Y-yes."
"What'd he look like?"
"His face was so mangled from whoever beat him... couldn't tell."
"What do you know?"
"S-sorry! Please forgive me!"
Jeong Gwang pondered for a moment.
Hwang Ung had met the old man shortly after Jeong Gwang's death in his previous life.
'Did the Hapmil Oh Clan get pushed out by the other families? Makes sense.'
Their power matched the others, but their wealth far surpassed them. Once Jeong Gwang vanished, the rest likely banded together to carve up their fortune.
'Whatever. That's their problem.'
Jeong Gwang eyed the groveling Hwang Ung. The guy had thick skin and grit—he could be molded into something useful with a little work.
'Better than mind-controlling him and making him a puppet boss.'
Hwang Ung was plenty capable as a leader for the thugs they'd captured so far. If he survived the battles against the Mongol army and gained experience, he could become a solid warrior.
'Time to build my own personal crew.'
Decision made, Jeong Gwang made an offer Hwang Ung couldn't refuse.
"Need better martial arts? Something you can swing freely without the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult hunting you down or the Central Plains martial world branding you a criminal."
"...!"
"Want me to teach you?"
"...Th-thank you! Truly, thank you!"
"Not free, though."
"Ah! What do I have to do?"
"We'll get to that. First, let me check your inner energy."
Jeong Gwang placed a hand on Hwang Ung's dantian.
Hwang Ung watched with terrified eyes, but Jeong Gwang ignored him and infused true qi.
"Hmm. Ma-am Gong. The guy who taught you had a brain—he gave you demonic arts that barely show any demonic taint."
The foundation was solid; no major issues expected.
"When you execute the sword forms, there's specific meridians for channeling your inner energy, right? Forget the old paths and memorize the ones I'll teach you. It'll purge the murky aura and let you wield it brightly."
No need to teach entirely new arts. He'd just tweak what Hwang Ung already knew.
Any martial artist would call it insane...
'Like this? Nah, this way's better.'
Black Dao Slaughter Net was a technique Jeong Gwang had invented in his past life and passed to the Hapmil Oh Clan.
And in this life, he could disguise it to look like mid-tier orthodox stuff.
Some trial and error inevitable, of course.
"Huh? Not this meridian?"
That trial and error would be on Hwang Ung.
"Gaaahhh!"
* * *
The Gansu Province Governor paced his room anxiously. It wasn't just today— he'd been like this for days.
'When the hell are they coming? The Qinghai Governor wouldn't lie.'
The letter from the Qinghai Governor via messenger had been astonishing.
To the Gansu Governor, desperate to return to the capital with no way out, it was like rain in a drought.
Yet days had passed beyond the expected arrival. His insides were burning black.
'Did something happen on the way?'
As he prepared to send soldiers to investigate, his trusted aide rushed in.
"Governor! They're here!"
"Finally! Kunlun Sect?"
"Taoists at the front—has to be! Come see!"
"Got it! How many?"
"More than expected!"
Beaming, the Governor hurried to the gates.
He saw about a thousand men.
Exhaust Loyalty to Serve the Nation
Long Live His Imperial Majesty
Martial World Volunteer Army
'So many warriors!'
Government offices had their share of experts—enough to make a name in the martial world.
But a thousand martial artists from all sects and clans forming a volunteer army? Astonishing.
Martial folk hated constraints by nature.
For them to volunteer to fight for nation and emperor? World-shaking news.
'Battle merits come later. Just having them volunteer here in Gansu gets me back to the capital!'
Local officials existed to showcase the Emperor's grace. He'd fulfilled his duty and would be reported as such to the palace.
The Governor didn't hide his joy, bellowing heartily.
"Hahaha! Welcome, Kunlun sages and Volunteer Army!"
A grand banquet followed.
The Governor seated the Kunlun Taoists at the head table, praising them nonstop.
"I've long heard of Kunlun's lofty reputation, but I never dreamed you'd achieve such nobility. His Majesty will be overjoyed."
"Amitabha. Your excessive praise for such a minor deed embarrasses us."
"Minor? Who else in today's martial world could pull this off but Kunlun? Such humility borders on falsehood—relax and enjoy the feast."
Slick words elevating their merit while putting them at ease.
But.
Taoists couldn't eat meat or drink wine.
Ignoring the lovely dancers, they chewed greens. How could they enjoy a feast like this?
Unlike them, one group reveled fiercely: the Martial World Volunteer Army.
"Kuhk. This is why he taught us martial arts..."
"Fuck it! Stuff ourselves to bursting and die!"
"Ah, screw it! Drink! Let's drink!"
They'd been dragged here clueless, then told they'd roll on battlefields. Escape attempts followed.
Beaten down by Jeong Gwang and the Kunlun Taoists, they'd given up—but who could blame their bitterness?
If it might be their last meal, devouring and guzzling made sense.
"Hey, you bastard! Hands off? I was gonna grab it first!"
"Crazy fuck! Send you to the afterlife first?"
Profanity flew, the mood turning ugly. Soldiers gripped spears with sweaty palms.
'These guys... really volunteers?'
'Look like Black Dao thugs or bandits. About to start a brawl!'
As tension peaked, a clear voice rang out.
"Eat in moderation. Enough to feel good. You know what happens if you cause trouble, right?"
Heads whipped around to an impossibly handsome young Taoist.
Soldiers' faces darkened further. Provoking those vicious thugs—what was he thinking?
But something more shocking happened.
"Yes, sir!"
"Of course! We drink to feel good, yeah!"
The chaos settled in an instant.
"Haha, sorry. You first."
"What? Nah, you drink. Here, have a cup."
Even turning harmonious.
The Gansu Governor eyed Jeong Gwang closely, recalling the Qinghai Governor's letter.
'Told me his brilliant nephew deserved good treatment. Seems spot on.'
But business was business. "Good treatment" varied by person.
The Governor signaled Jeong Gwang, then moved to another room. Jeong Gwang entered with a plainly dressed youth.
"Why not come alone?"
"Ah, I've lived on the mountain my whole life—clueless about worldly affairs."
"Who's this young hero?"
"My junior brother."
"Hm. Why not bring an elder?"
"He's savvy with market prices."
"...Market? Prices?"
"Yes."
Words from a Taoist's mouth?
The Governor was flabbergasted but hid it. Still, irritation crept in; he turned to rebuke Jeong Gwang.
"You're... unusual. Not very Taoist-like."
"Yeah."
"...You admit it?"
"Anyone can see that. Shall we talk business now?"
The Governor steeled himself.
Young didn't mean easy—this kid was sharp.
"Business? Thanks for escorting the volunteers. Anything else?"
"Then I'll be off. Head to another province."
"Wait! So hasty—er, refreshingly direct. Fine, what do you want?"
"One moment. Junior brother."
"Here, senior brother."
Baek Seung-mu pulled out a thick ledger.
"...Claim invoice?"
"Yes. Junior brother calculated it fairly—review at ease."
At ease? No chance.
The Governor never imagined this.
"Let's see..."
Flipping through, his jaw dropped.
Not just travel expenses—detailed reasons for markups, justifications for every sum.
'These bastards think I'm what—a fool?'
He rivaled martial masters at squeezing peasants or haggling treasures.
But he was the needy one now. With Qinghai Governor backing Jeong Gwang, better settle amicably.
"...Even ropes? They could be reused."
Baek Seung-mu replied, slightly tense.
"They were tied so tight we had to cut them all. Naturally included."
"...Victim compensation? What's this?"
"Minimum payouts to locals harmed by them."
"...Consolation fees?"
"How do you heal broken hearts? Costs for rituals and prayers to ease their trauma."
Rituals? Prayers? Trauma relief?
As the Governor gaped, Jeong Gwang added.
"As Taoists, labor's free. Just sacrificial offerings."
"...Thanks for the details."
"No problem."
The Governor swallowed rage, turning pages. Closing the last, he forced a smile.
"You crushed Black Dao sects, burned bandit lairs—must've looted plenty. That should cover it. Why demand so much?"
"That's miscellaneous income. For other uses."
"Miscell—what? Never mind the terms. For what?"
"Senior brother's sec—"
Baek Seung-mu caught himself, invoking secrecy.
"...Forgive my silence; it's confidential."
"Haha. Careful with words, junior bro. Sir, knowing martial secrets won't do you favors. Right?"
"...Appreciate the thought."
"Just business. So? Fair price, yeah?"
The Governor's eyebrow twitched. He probed details relentlessly.
But Baek Seung-mu held firm, eloquently defending each item.
The scales tipped toward Baek Seung-mu.
Jeong Gwang watched with a pleased smile.
'No need for such haggling in my past life, but things differ now. Handles affairs cleanly. Just train him on loose lips.'
No testing Color Precept violations yet—hold off.
"Haa. Exhausting. Look, True Jade Dragon, your junior's too nitpicky. Let's deal directly. No room for compromise?"
"Discounts are easy, but for certainty, that's the price."
"Meaning?"
"They're 'volunteers,' but you know their past. Desertion's the least worry—lucky if no incidents."
The Governor's eyes deepened.
True. Crucial matter.
'Merits great, but even failure's fine.'
The unprecedented Martial World Volunteer Army alone secured his return to the capital.
'Aftermath's the issue.'
If trouble brewed, the next Governor wouldn't quietly take blame—he'd drag this one down.
Conversely, merits meant pressuring the successor to steal credit.
'Gathering such numbers so fast is impressive. Proper cleanup? Not unreasonably high.'
Resolved, he spoke.
"...Any solutions?"
Jeong Gwang nodded vigorously.
"Of course."