Self-Strengthening to Heaven - 4: I Finally Understood the First Pyramid Raiders' Feelings
I came to understand the sentiments of those who first raided the pyramids. Not that I particularly wanted to know, but it dawned on me naturally. The sheer scale was beyond imagination, the endless passages stretched on forever, an eerie silence devoid of any life besides our own, the creeping darkness that sent chills down the spine. And then the traps springing up everywhere.
"How many times is this now?"
"The fifth time, sir."
I let out a sigh at Jo Wi-cheo's reply. Five times already—just the boulders rolling down. None of us here were civilians who might get crushed, but I couldn't fathom where they sourced these massive rocks from. Naturally, since they'd dug into the earth to build this tomb, they could've hauled out subterranean stones or recycled leftover masonry from the construction. But embedding them all into mechanisms like this? That was overkill.
"Let's take a break."
Surveying the warriors exhausted by the scattered boulder debris and constantly triggering traps, I ordered a rest. We had no grasp of this passage's length or how many more mechanisms lay ahead. In that case, cautious progress beat reckless marching.
"Phew... finally a breather."
"This tomb's as vicious as its owner..."
At my announcement, the warriors slumped down one by one, sighing in relief or tearing into jerky to stave off hunger.
Our bodies are worn out—we can't even fight properly.
Zhongnanpa and Huashanpa disciples collapsing side by side in rare harmony nearly drew a chuckle from me. Before entering the tomb, I'd warned each sect's elders to keep their disciples in line. They knew full well how perilous a large-scale tomb search could be and promised to comply. An accident from infighting? They'd never shoulder that blame.
Yet youthful vigor always defies expectations. Even the elders' authority couldn't fully suppress it, leading to subtle rivalries—but only in the tomb's early stretches.
"Damn it! Incoming again!"
"Who triggered the mechanism?!"
"Quiet and hit the deck! If you die, we're hauling your corpse!"
As arrows flew from all sides, floors gave way, boulders tumbled, and spears dropped, even the hot-blooded youths began to flag. They chose advancing a bit or self-preservation over clashing with rivals. As expected, external threats united the internals. A most satisfying state of affairs.
...If only those weren't an issue, it'd be perfect.
Checking the warriors' conditions, my gaze fell on each sect's first-rate experts, drawing a hollow laugh. Unlike the second-rates collapsed from exhaustion, the first-rates still had stamina to spare. While the second-rates enforced a compulsory truce, those maintained their standoff, squandering energy pointlessly.
These types are the hardest to handle.
Second-rates, overwhelmed by physical pain over sect pride, were easy to control. But first-rates drew from their realm's endurance, long-honed loyalty to their sect, and rivalrous spite toward others—unshakable by ordinary means. Worse, as seasoned warriors, they regulated their qi to avoid outright clashes. A blatant brawl? Elders or I could intervene with force. But this covert posturing? Tricky for third parties.
They think it's just physical fatigue.
Irritating. Fatigue wasn't merely bodily; mental strain from constant vigilance and rivalry drained the spirit too. And it didn't just affect the participants—it permeated the space, weighing on everyone. To second-rates, first-rates were like executioners or superiors; how could they relax amid such stern, grave tension?
What to do about this.
Ending that standoff was key, but how to mediate naturally? Forcing it down was a last resort. To second-rates, the Left Vice Inspector General's wrath would sting worse than any superior's glare. Best to dissolve the pointless tension in a smooth, organic atmosphere. Perhaps harder than raiding the tomb itself—
Go-ro-ro-ll...
What the—
A bizarre sound from beside me made me glance over. Kki-ing-i was dozing off in bread-loaf position, head bobbing.
"Ah."
Perfect solution.
The Zhongnanpa-Huashanpa standoff ended forcibly.
"Gahhh! Get lost, you pest!"
"S-Sir! Rein it in!"
"Regrettable. As a fourth-rank official, I can't harm a spirit beast."
- Kki-i-i-i-ing!
"Aaaah!"
I watched Kki-ing-i's rampage with satisfaction. That's my Kki-ing-i—peerless at flipping the board.
If they've got stamina for fighting, drain it.
Chewing jerky as the first-rates dodged Kki-ing-i's horns in flight, I reflected. Their leisure amid the joint operation stemmed from excess energy. Exhaust it, force recovery focus, leave no room for rivals. Ironic for efficiency, but first-rates knew optimal rest. They'd rebound fine after this chaos.
The real priority was the second-rates' morale. In unpredictable tomb digs, mass mental fortitude was crucial.
"You're handling what we should have, sir."
The elders grasped my intent; Huashanpa's Dang Ji-gyeong approached with a bow.
"As elders, we failed to curb our disciples' misconduct—embarrassing."
Zhongnanpa's Gu Yeong offered a wry smile and cupped hands.
"Haha, no need for that. If they moved only as ordered, they'd be livestock, not humans."
Indeed—no cause to accept elders' apologies. They'd already fulfilled their duty preventing overt clashes. People always find workarounds. Those thick-headed first-rates just skirted suppression with mind games. I deployed strategic Kki-ing-i to quash even that.
"Besides, I'm the excavation leader—not you two. All responsibility and duty fall to me."
If elders oversaw disciples, I oversaw the entire team. They bowed in gratitude.
If trouble brews after this, I'll smash them.
The Left Vice Inspector General invokes 'responsibility' and strives—yet a sect disciple causes an incident? I'd be annoyed, but elders far more so. Guaranteed. By my hand.
Excavation proceeded swiftly thereafter. Kki-ing-i policed the first-rates, endless mechanisms grew familiar. Crucially, at forks or mazes, qi-sensor Kki-ong-i led—foiling every builder's ploy.
Without them, it'd be chaos.
Kki-ong-i's guidance made it poignantly clear. Sans Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i, we'd still wander astray. Double-digit forks so far, mazes utterly bizarre. Normal digs might've retreated from supply shortages.
"Good girl, my Kki-ong-i."
- Kki-o-o-ong~
Petting Kki-ong-i's head, she rubbed against my hand with pleased cries. Post-job, I'd stuff her with dongpo pork or whatever—maybe rent a whole inn.
"The end's in sight."
At Jo Wi-cheo's words, alert warriors' gazes snapped forward.
"Yes! Finally!"
"Spirit beasts make all the difference. So smooth thanks to them."
Faint light at passage's end sparked hopeful chatter. Definitely the terminus. Unlike prior tunnels, it widened mysteriously; shadows hinted at piled grave goods.
6 to 2 to 2.
Recalling distribution ratios, I quickened pace. Trap density and maze complexity signaled volume and quality. Even eccentric murim folk wouldn't fortify an empty tomb. Baek Qi wasn't murim but a general—similar enough.
Maybe ancient martial arts.
Murim's history was long, lost arts proportional. Centuries—or decades—of chaos routinely; continuity would've been odder. But this was Baek Qi's tomb. If he bequeathed manuals pre-suicide, they might be interred here. Or his sword, armor from life.
...Baek Qi's gear won't be pristine.
Regrettably, Baek Qi was a infamous butcher—a madman. Arts likely unorthodox demonic or bloodcult madness, sword perhaps bloodthirsty. Still, 1600-year relics warranted securing. If arts or items sparked carnage, blame the wielder—innocent techniques.
Heart pounding, we reached the end—and
- Hi-hi-hi-hi-hing!
A blue-glowing horse neighed wildly in welcome.
What the hell is that.
Why's there a horse in a place like this...?