Dense Nightmare - 8
With Koke Temur's appearance, the fierce melee atop the battlements halted as if by some lie. No one in Jiayu Pass was bold or reckless enough to bare their fangs before a Hwagyeong master, and among the Mongol forces, there was no fool oblivious enough to swing first at a Hwagyeong master.
That was the majesty of a Hwagyeong master—commanding the battlefield with mere presence alone. Even a Chojeoljeong master, who needed heaven's permission to ascend, couldn't muster the nerve to struggle before one chosen by the heavens themselves.
"You're not Ugeom, but you've clearly inherited thick blood. For a first-rate to bare his teeth at a Hwagyeong... truly bizarre."
That was why my Silence Hell feint had drawn Koke Temur's full attention. I'd already caught his eye as the grandson of Grandfather—one of Daesong's Twelve Great Masters—and now, as a mere first-rate, I'd tried to take down a Hwagyeong. From his perspective, it must have been laughable.
"You resemble him enough to pass as a grandson. I wonder how delighted Ugeom would be if I killed or captured you."
With a soft chuckle, Koke Temur approached the walls step by step, as if descending stairs. Each time he did, the soldiers atop the battlements—even the valiant martial artists—instinctively stepped back. Yet no one felt shame. Fleeing a natural disaster was only human.
"Protect the Left Vice Censor-in-Chief!"
And the Jiayu Garrison Commandant, squeezing out courage before that very disaster to issue orders, was no ordinary man. With that much grit, he must have left his mark in real history too.
"Ho."
Koke Temur halted, surprised by the commandant's shout, and crossed his arms.
"Impressive. Yes, a border general needs that kind of valor."
Speaking as if applauding a child's antics, he soon shook his head.
"But you're the only general here."
"What do you—"
Glancing around at those words, the commandant gritted his teeth and silently positioned himself in front of me. Despite his orders, no one moved. Or rather, no one could.
"You. What's your name?"
Gazing at the commandant, Koke Temur turned back to me.
"Isn't calling you 'the Han bastard' enough?"
"Hardly. If all I know about you is your Han surname, won't I have to round up every Han in the land if I ever want to find you again?"
He meant it as a joke, but chills ran down my spine. That savage nomad bastard might actually do it.
"Han Un."
"Left Vice Censor-in-Chief Han Un."
Stroking his chin thoughtfully, Koke Temur resumed his approach—toward Jiayu Pass, toward the soldiers, toward me.
"I'll remember that. And since you're the first to bare his teeth at me first and live, consider this an honor to cherish."
"Live?"
The nonsense drew an involuntary retort as I spat the blood rising in my throat onto the ground.
"You call this living?"
"Such a drama king. I turned what could have been a beheading into mere internal injuries. That's surviving unscathed."
As he spoke matter-of-factly, I spun my thoughts into overdrive. Despite figuring out I was Grandfather's grandson, he'd only threatened verbally, no immediate action. He'd caught my covert Silence Hell attempt but imposed no punishment. He'd even said I was the first to survive antagonizing him. No matter how I sliced it, he had no intention of killing or capturing me.
A Hwagyeong master wouldn't go back on his word.
...So why the hell is this bastard here?
With minimal safety assured, my mind shifted from the fact of the Mongol Empire's sole Hwagyeong master's presence to why he was here.
It made no sense. We'd sent Yangyang Wang, a Hwagyeong master ourselves, across the border—but that was retaliation for the Mongols' provocations. Daesong had twelve Hwagyeong masters; sparing one for duty abroad was fine. But Koke Temur was their only one. Even near the border, crossing into foreign soil risked clashing with another Daesong Hwagyeong. Injury or death would spell disaster for the Mongols.
No reason to risk that catastrophe just to come to Jiayu Pass.
He's not here to conquer it either.
If the Mongols truly aimed to seize Jiayu Pass, I'd chalk it up to all-out war. With a Hwagyeong leading right after capture, Gansu would crumble in moments. But no. The Mongol troops had fixated on eroding the soldiers' morale, and Koke Temur showed no reaction to the intact garrison—as if it were expected.
"Your face says you're full of questions."
As I racked my brain, his voice echoed again.
"No need to overthink. While we were on expedition, you lot burned our empty steppe. I rushed here to rescue the expeditionary force upon hearing the news. That's all."
"What?"
"While you were on expedition?"
His twisted version of events furrowed both mine and the commandant's brows. Nonsense. The strike force had sortied due to Mongol schemes, but these troops at Jiayu Pass had timed their arrival perfectly with our departure. They hadn't come because we burned the steppe—they'd shown up regardless. And a Hwagyeong rushing to save the expeditionary force? With their capabilities, they could've withdrawn without him.
"That's ridiculous—"
"Whelp."
His eyes and tone shifted, crushing me.
"Be grateful for the mercy of answering an enemy's doubts. Any more would be indulgence we can't afford."
Shut up and accept it, since we're foes anyway. He wasn't wrong, so I just bit my lip. Besides, I wasn't that curious.
...Sigh.
It was just a ploy to buy time anyway, feigning gravity.
"You're no normal one either."
Suddenly dropping onto the battlements, Koke Temur muttered in disbelief. But it lasted only an instant. Planting his foot as if nothing happened, he leaped back into the air.
"Fuck..."
My already wrecked insides turned to mush, blood now streaming from nose and mouth. If he'd stayed five seconds longer, the commandant could've stabbed him.
Han Un, was it? The more I looked, the more convinced I was he was Ugeom's blood kin. Not just in looks—the subtle madness in his words and deeds mirrored Ugeom's perfectly.
To think he'd chain them like that.
Gazing down at the battlements where I'd stood moments ago, I curled my lip. Jeongisim Gong. Gichungmuwang's esoteric art, the bizarre technique even Ugeom wielded. How many warriors had fallen to it, embraced eternally by the blue skies? I'd nearly fallen victim myself once.
But back then, Ugeom was a Hwagyeong like me. It worked because we were equals. Against a true Hwagyeong, no lesser could succeed. Common sense.
Yet this whelp shattered it. Even if Jeongisim Gong diverged from ordinary arts, even if only for a fleeting moment—
A mere first-rate had silenced a Hwagyeong, if briefly.
Defying heaven with your life on the line, at first-rate?
Laughter burst out. He'd already failed the first Jeongisim Gong, suffering internal injuries. Yet instead of quitting, he'd pushed harder for a second try—in his current state, no less. Utterly reckless. Delightfully bizarre.
The moment he was sure I wouldn't kill him, he'd gambled his life. Ruining my mercy in the process.
What to do with him.
Amusement gave way to deep deliberation. I'd planned to spare him originally. Killing Ugeom's kin here would drag us into all-out war with the Central Plains, and that family-obsessed fool might cross the desert alone to the steppes. Unwanted trouble.
We weren't ready yet.
And at first-rate, he's already this much.
But letting him go nagged at me. What if he became a master? What if, like Ugeom, he earned heaven's favor? Better to nip a future calamity here than—
Kki-iiing!
Kki-oong!
"Hm?"
A strange cry heralded something scaling the walls.
"Ha!"
Spotting it, I burst into laughter again.
"White deer!"
A white deer—two of them, no less—rushed to guard the little Ugeom like sentinels. Trembling yet glaring daggers, blocking between us.
Indeed. Guarded by twin white deer.
Heaven's will, then.
I couldn't defy that. Heaven decreed to spare the little Ugeom.
Yes. He might become a future calamity, but that's mere possibility. Right now, he's just a common first-rate, and even that's crippled by overtaxing his qi.
Let it slide for now. But if you recover and stand again. Surpass walls on those two feet. Earn heaven's choice with your talent.
That too will be heaven's will.
A wolf to tear our throats, just as your grandsire drove us from the steppes.
"I'm heading back."
After staring long at the little Ugeom—Han Un—I turned away. Linger too long, and the Central Plains dogs from the steppes would return. No need for needless hassle.