Father's Death and the Encounter with the Yuezhi

Seo Jun sat perched for a moment on a small table that had rolled nearby, staring down at the skill orb resting in his palm.

‘A skill earned by overcoming fate. I’m curious what it will be.’

“Whoa… what kind of skill is this?”

“Status window.”

“Hmm. This would be perfect for some righteous bandit work.”

In truth, the skill was far more devastatingly useful in actual combat. Yet because Seo Jun had spent so much time playing the righteous bandit, the first thought that flashed through his mind was simple theft.

“I’ll have to use it often and raise its rank quickly. Heh, this is going to be handy.”

Seo Jun smirked, lips curling in amusement.

“I’ve finally pushed my spear art into S-rank. My movements feel much smoother. My horsemanship has reached A-rank as well. The core skills I rely on have all climbed to a respectable level.”

“I should hold off on spending karma for now. There’s no telling what kind of situation I’ll run into in Luoyang, so I’ll save it. Once I see how things stand there, I can decide.”

Thanks to the Fighting God Body, the blood that had been flowing from his limbs had already begun to clot. Yet the trait did not replenish what had been lost, so Seo Jun’s body felt unbearably heavy, exhausted, and drained. Even so, his mind had never felt clearer or more refreshed since arriving in this era. The faint headache that had always pressed against the back of his skull was completely gone, leaving behind a crisp, invigorating sensation.

He let out a long, slow breath, rose from his seat, and walked toward the mound of Han soldiers’ corpses.

Whispers drifted from behind the pile. He had watched every enemy retreat, yet it seemed someone remained.

With a soft rasp, Seo Jun drew the saber at his waist and circled the heap of bodies with careful steps.

Beneath the fortress wall stood several cages used to imprison convicts. Inside them, roughly thirty people stared at the approaching Seo Jun with fearful eyes, their gazes fixed on the blade in his hand.

The moment he reached the front of the cages, every prisoner dropped to their knees and pressed their foreheads to the ground.

Westerners?

Seo Jun had caught a glimpse of their faces before they fully prostrated themselves. They were not East Asian. Their features clearly belonged to Caucasians.

Arab-looking Caucasians, probably.

They resembled the white peoples of the Arabian or Central Asian regions more than Europeans.

“Who are you people?”

Because they were white, he had asked without much expectation, yet their answer surprised him.

“We are people of the Yuezhi tribe who were enslaved by the Qiang you defeated, mighty warrior. We performed supply duties and menial labor in place of the soldiers.”

The reply came from the oldest-looking man among them, his face hidden behind a thick beard.

“Yuezhi?”

The Yuezhi were a Caucasian people of Arab descent who had once lived in the western parts of Liang Province. Defeated by the Xiongnu and Qiang, some had migrated toward Central Asia and India while others scattered into small tribes or were captured and reduced to slavery, living exactly as these people did now.

“I see. But no matter how lowly the slaves, why were you locked in cages?”

It struck him as odd. Even slaves were valuable labor; keeping them imprisoned like this seemed strange.

“They believed we might try to escape at night, so once the day’s work was finished they locked us up like this.”

“Is that so?”

It was not a common practice, but it was not incomprehensible either. What the old Yuezhi man left unsaid was that they had already been caught attempting to flee once, which was why the Qiang kept them caged so strictly.

With two heavy clangs, Seo Jun unlocked both cages.

The prisoners poured out in a frantic rush.

“You’re free now. Those bastards might come back, so leave this place quickly.”

At Seo Jun’s words, the Yuezhi looked momentarily stunned. Then they began discussing something among themselves in their own tongue, one he could not understand.

Since he had nothing more to give them, Seo Jun turned away without regret and returned to the pile of corpses. His heart had settled somewhat, yet he still wanted to find the bodies of Seo Jeong and Seo Pyeong and give them a proper funeral.

One by one he lifted the soldiers’ corpses and laid them neatly to the side. He did not know all their names, but these were faces that had once greeted him with friendly nods. Now they lay cold and twisted in agony.

He checked each face hidden beneath the others, moving them aside one after another. As he worked, the Yuezhi slaves returned and gathered around him.

“We will help.”

Seo Jun studied them. They seemed to have something to say, but he sensed no malice.

“Thank you.”

“Who should we look for?”

“Not ordinary soldiers. Bring me anyone wearing proper officer armor. I’ll check their faces myself.”

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“Understood.”

The old man translated Seo Jun’s instructions to the others in their language. With so many hands working, the task progressed quickly. Every time they found a corpse in full armor that appeared to be an officer, they brought it to him.

It’s old Dunjang.

The most senior of Shuofang County’s Dunjangs, a good man who had always looked after his people.

Another body was placed before him.

“Uncle!”

It was Seo Pyeong. Three deep wounds pierced his armor across the abdomen, and his throat had been cut halfway open. His face was heavily contorted, evidence of the terrible pain he had endured. A sharp sorrow pierced Seo Jun’s chest. This grief was no longer the echo of the original body’s memories; it was his own.

Still, it was sorrow he could swallow. He pressed a hand to the corner of his eye to stop the tears from forming.

After several more bodies were laid beside his uncle’s, another was placed before him.

“F-Father…!”

Seo Jeong’s corpse was covered in countless small wounds. He had clearly endured attack after attack for a long time with nothing but his own body. Tears Seo Jun did not even feel began ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to roll down his cheeks.

Was the death of family always this painful, as if one’s heart were being torn apart? He had never felt particularly deep familial love or affection toward Seo Jeong and Seo Pyeong. Yet the agony he felt now was genuine.

In his original world he had grown up like an orphan, then been dragged into the life of a mercenary the moment he became an adult. This was his first experience of losing family, and the grief was raw enough to rip his soul in two.

“Ugh… ugh… sob…!”

Kneeling, Seo Jun clutched Seo Jeong’s body and wailed until it seemed the heavens themselves would shatter.

“Hic… hic…!”

Only after a long time had passed and the tears flowed freely did the heavy sorrow filling his heart begin to ease.

Once his emotions had calmed, Seo Jun carefully carried the bodies of Seo Jeong, Seo Pyeong, and even Jang Jin—the son of the county magistrate who had recommended him as a Xiaolian—onto one of the supply carts the fleeing Qiang had abandoned. He took Jang Jin’s body out of respect for the man who had given him his chance.

“We have something to say.”

The old Yuezhi man approached hesitantly, as if he wanted to speak. The rest of the Yuezhi followed and stood behind him.

Then, all at once, they dropped to their knees.

Seo Jun slowly looked over the prostrated ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Yuezhi. Their faces held a desperate earnestness whose reason he could not yet guess.

“Speak.”

“Mighty warrior, the truth is we have nowhere to return to. Even if you set us free, going back to our old lands would only mean returning to slavery. If you would accept us, we wish to follow you.”

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The old man finished speaking and pressed his forehead to the ground along with the others, quietly awaiting Seo Jun’s decision.

Seo Jun considered the request. He had no obligation to take responsibility for them. Yet once he reached Luoyang and completed the courtier training, he would eventually be given some post. When that time came, he would need people who moved on his behalf. In such a situation, although some might reject them because of their foreign appearance, having followers who answered only to him did not seem like a bad thing at all.