Chapter 157
Chapter 157
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 157
>Chapter Title: Salvation (2)
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So-hong, like the other instructors, was offering bits of advice to the cadets alongside the White Sparrow Unit members.
"If you truly wish to achieve great success as a warrior of the Divine Cult, you must not fall so easily for the enemy's provocations."
The cadet she was advising was the one who had taken the bait just a few days earlier during the clash with the bandits. Things had worked out in the end, but that cadet's face had turned beet red at the bandits' crude taunts.
It wasn't shame like a proper Orthodox Sect member would feel—it was pure rage, befitting a Demonic Cultist. Still, giving in to provocations before a fight was sheer folly.
For So-hong, who was now advising that very cadet, the situation felt strangely surreal.
'All I really need to worry about is the Eighth Young Master, so why am I bothering with advice like this...'
She had viewed the Demonic Path Academy cadets as mere passing acquaintances. But seeing that cadet up close, she couldn't help overlapping him with her own self from a dozen years ago.
After that, So-hong continued offering various advice to several other cadets.
'Right. To hide that I'm targeting the Eighth Young Master, I need to act like a proper instructor.'
Justifying her actions to herself like that, she helped the cadets for quite a while.
She hadn't forgotten her true goal, though. She occasionally checked on Il-mok, who was dozing off atop his horse.
"!!!"
Gurgle.
The moment she spotted the White Sparrow Unit Leader approaching Il-mok, her stomach rumbled fiercely.
"Ahem. Care for a bite of this?"
The hearty rumble from beside her drew a friendly offer from Chu Il-hwan, who held out a strip of jerky to So-hong.
"N-No, thank you, Senior Instructor."
Her face flushed crimson at the sudden belly growl, and she bowed her head in haste.
It was hard to believe this was the same woman who had sliced off a bandit's manhood an hour ago.
'...There will be more people gunning for Young Master Il-mok during every training session from now on. What am I supposed to do about it?'
Caught between gluttony and embarrassment, So-hong bowed her head and sneaked a glance toward Il-mok.
More precisely, toward the White Sparrow Unit Leader approaching him.
"Snore."
Il-mok, who had been fast asleep on horseback, finally cracked his eyes open at the presence right beside him.
"Sleeping atop a horse like that. Impressive."
Il-mok wiped the drool from his hand and replied to the ambiguous compliment—or insult.
"Rest is part of self-care, isn't it?"
The bold response nearly drew a hollow laugh from the Unit Leader.
'Still, considering how he handled those bandits, the rumors are probably true.'
He'd witnessed it himself, and the accounts from his own troopers matched up.
Not just the martial prowess, but the sheer audacity displayed in the process.
'Sleeping like that on a horse must be proof of that same audacity.'
Convincing himself of that, the Unit Leader casually broached the subject.
"So, what are your thoughts on traveling with our White Sparrow Unit these past few days?"
Il-mok had to carefully mask his true feelings in response.
He couldn't very well say, 'It was a pain, and I'd rather never cross paths again.'
This training had solidified one thing for him.
Even after graduating from the Demonic Path Academy, he would never join a combat unit.
'There's only one answer. I have to head to a branch division in the Central Plains.'
He had no desire to live a life without proper baths, galloping all day until his butt was soaked in sweat.
"Putting down those bandits who tormented the common folk—it was a truly rewarding exercise."
Uttering words utterly at odds with his inner thoughts, Il-mok flashed the natural fake smile he'd honed through his civil servant days.
Unaware of the facade, the Unit Leader let out a hearty laugh.
"Hahaha! Then how about joining our White Sparrow Unit after you graduate? With your talent, you'd make squad leader in a few years."
Il-mok kept his smile steady even at the Leader's absurd proposal.
"I'd love to, but I'm afraid that's not possible, Leader."
The unexpected refusal wiped the grin from the Leader's face, leaving a stern expression as he pressed.
"And why is that?"
"Our Divine Cult's combat units do vital work stabilizing the territory, but I have even greater ambitions."
"Greater than a combat unit's mission? What might that be?"
"My apologies, Leader. It's a top-secret matter involving my master, so I can't easily disclose it."
Of course, he had no such ambitions. Il-mok promptly invoked his master, the Heavenly Demon.
He had no worries about being called out on the lie.
'Unless this guy's lost his mind, he won't go asking my master if his recruitment pitch failed.'
Il-mok spun his falsehood with casual ease, while the Unit Leader stared him down as if testing him.
But Il-mok's expression didn't flicker under the scrutiny.
He was used to managing his face from his civil servant days—and even more so from life in the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.
A collective of cult fanatics like the Divine Cult was a madhouse where a single slip in expression control could cost you a limb.
So-hong, who had been eavesdropping with rapt attention, went pale as a ghost.
'No way... Has the Sovereign of Ten Thousand Demons already issued some directive...?'
Then why had she been sent all the way to the Academy to lure that kid?
'Law Protector Elder!!!'
The face of the old man who had shipped her off here without proper intel floated into her mind.
Gurgle.
Her tactless stomach let out another rude growl.
"Ahem. One won't be enough, huh."
Ever oblivious, Chu Il-hwan rummaged for more snacks beside her.
* * *
The White Sparrow Unit's leisurely journey continued for several more days.
They crossed the barren wastes of the New Frontier, occasionally encountering nomads or merchants, but no further bandits.
Over those days, bonds between the troopers and cadets grew a bit tighter—Il-mok excepted, of course.
Word of his conversation with the Unit Leader had spread among the troopers, so no one bothered trying to recruit him.
How could they expect someone to prioritize them over the will of the Heavenly Demon, whom they revered as a living god?
Of course, as the Heavenly Demon's famously infamous youngest disciple, some still wanted to build rapport outside of recruitment pitches.
"My apologies. I need to focus on mental cultivation through meditation."
Il-mok would exchange light greetings or a brief exchange before sending them off with that line every time.
"Snore."
Then he'd promptly nap.
While Il-mok isolated himself by choice, a fortnight slipped by in a flash.
'Haa. When the hell do we head back?'
Just as Il-mok grew weary of the tedious, filthy wasteland life, a delightful sound reached his ears.
"Let's spend the night in the nearby village today for resupply."
At the Unit Leader's order, they veered off course toward somewhere.
Soon, a tiny village appeared in the distance—but in the vast emptiness of the New Frontier wastes, it was still quite far.
An hour after setting off toward the plainly visible hamlet, as the sky turned to sunset hues, they finally arrived.
'Finally, a proper bath and solid sleep.'
Cherishing that hope as he entered the village, Il-mok belatedly sensed something off.
'What smell is that...'
An unpleasant mix of sweat and body odor wafted from everywhere.
It came from the villagers.
They emerged from their homes with frightened looks at the sudden influx of over sixty people, then hurriedly bowed upon seeing the White Sparrow banner.
"We greet the Divine Cult warriors."
"To think you'd grace such a wretched place..."
They were all filthy and ragged.
Passing them by, Il-mok reached the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult branch division at one end of the village and finally grasped the situation.
"My apologies, Leader. We haven't had rain for a while, so the village well is nearly dry."
The Branch Leader, wearing a humbly apologetic face, subtly urged them to move on.
"The villagers are conserving water themselves, drinking only enough to wet their throats. Accommodating over sixty more would be impossible."
From his quick scan entering the village, it was a small hamlet of about two hundred souls.
If that two hundred was barely scraping by sharing the well, adding sixty-plus would dry it up in no time.
Understanding the plight, the Unit Leader asked the Branch Leader with a troubled frown.
"We can just move to another village, but what about these common folk with no rain in sight?"
"...I did send a letter to headquarters a few days ago, but transporting water all the way here would be difficult."
At the Branch Leader's explanation, the Unit Leader turned with a look of pity, scanning the remaining villagers.
Gazing pityingly at their wretched forms for a moment.
His slowly sweeping gaze halted at one spot.
Not on a villager—but on Il-mok's face.
'No way?'
Before Il-mok, sensing an ominous vibe, could look away, the Unit Leader spoke first.
"Cadet Il-mok."
"...Yes, Leader."
"That spell you used for baths during our overnight camps—can you still cast it now?"
His faint suspicion had come true. Il-mok sighed inwardly and replied.
"I can, but it won't produce enough for everyone in the village to drink their fill."
"Better than nothing, right?"
Unable to deny that, Il-mok nodded in the end.
He hated the hassle, but there was no helping it.
'How can I ignore them staring like that?'
He wasn't talking about the Unit Leader's gaze. It was the villagers, still not retreating indoors, anxiously watching lest these newcomers drain their precious well.
Their pitiful state made it too hard to turn away.
On top of that, a nagging guilt lingered.
'No way... it couldn't be because of me, right?'
The dew-gathering spell Il-mok cast nightly for baths pulled moisture from the atmosphere, condensing it into droplets.
In other words, every time he bathed with it, the ambient moisture in the New Frontier air diminished.
'No. Even so, the New Frontier is vast, and it's just me bathing once a day. No way. Definitely not.'
Considering the region's scale and their daily travels, it couldn't be connected to this drought.
But the nagging feeling wouldn't fade.
"Where's the well?"
In the end, to shake off the guilt and pity for the villagers, Il-mok headed to the well.
The Branch Leader led the way, the group followed.
Villagers trailed behind in a buzzing crowd.
The air mixed eager hope—maybe they'd help somehow—with anxious fear that these strangers might steal what little water remained.
"Right here."
Having heard Il-mok's name and realized he was the Heavenly Demon's final disciple, the Branch Leader pointed politely to the well.
Il-mok approached with calm steps.
'...It's really almost gone.'
The well was dug quite deep. But with the water nearly evaporated, it looked like a black pit.
Straightening up after peering in, Il-mok surveyed his surroundings. Somehow, over a hundred people had gathered in a ring around him, watching intently.
"Hoo."
After a light deep breath, Il-mok closed his eyes and focused his senses.
Qi from the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword flowed from his dantian, blending with the ambient energies, sifting out the moisture amid the mix.
Sadly, among the countless atmospheric energies, moisture made up a scant portion.
The drying water at the pit's bottom felt denser by far.
'Tch. It's not like I'm wringing out a dried squid.'
Clicking his tongue in regret but with no other choice, Il-mok formed hand seals.
As the seals formed, his qi stirred the drifting energies, cracking them apart and teasing out bits of moisture.
Flash!
Another seal, and the separated moisture gathered before his hands.
Flash!
At the final seal, as Il-mok thrust both palms forward.
The unified moisture condensed fiercely, forming a small stream that poured into the well.
"!!!"
"Ooooh! It's a miracle!"
At the godlike sight, some encircling villagers dropped to their knees and bowed toward Il-mok on the spot.
"Wh-Wh-Who is that divine caster performing such sorcery!?"
Others stood stunned or shouted questions at the Branch Leader.
To which the Branch Leader replied with pride swelling on his face.
"You've all heard the rumors, right? It's none other than Young Master Il-mok, the eighth disciple of His Supreme Excellency."
At the introduction, even the remaining standing villagers knelt en masse, bowing frantically to Il-mok.
"Aaah! The Heavenly Demon has sent his disciple to save us!"
"Heavenly Demon descends!! Prosperity to the Ten Thousand Demons!!"
"Long live! Long live! Long live forever!!"