Chapter 158
Chapter 158
-----------------------------------------------------------------
>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 158
>Chapter Title: Salvation (3)
>-----------------------------------------------------------------
In an utterly cultish atmosphere, Il-mok—who had become the recipient of everyone's adoration in his master's stead—felt like he was losing his mind.
‘Fuck. It's not coming out anymore....’
If it had gushed out like a waterfall, that might've been one thing. But seeing them rejoice over water trickling out like he was pissing himself made it hard to even lift his head.
“Please save us!!”
“Keep us from being blinded by evil!!”
The villagers kept directing their prayers at him, so Il-mok couldn't bring himself to stop the incantation.
He had already gathered every last bit of moisture flowing around them.
‘Just a little more. A bit longer....’
In the end, he forcibly spread the remaining energy in his dantian wider, grasping at moisture flowing from even farther away. But for Il-mok, a total novice at incantations, it was absurdly difficult.
Dribble, dribble.
He barely managed to expand the range and sustain the spell a little longer, but now there wasn't even a drop of squeezable moisture left nearby.
Sensing the crisis, Il-mok furtively glanced around.
What met his eyes were the village residents fervently praising him.
And the Count Squad members and cadets gazing at him with pleased, proud expressions, as if they had accomplished the feat themselves.
‘Do something, you lot!’
He felt utterly wronged.
Why was he the only one suffering like this?
It reminded him of his civil servant days, during task assignments.
That moment when his damn team leader, amid praises of his competence, dumped all the new departmental work on him.
But the one who pissed him off most wasn't even that slacking team leader.
- As expected of Clerk Seo Ji-hoon!
- We'll leave it to Clerk Seo Ji-hoon!
It was his worthless colleagues, showering him with agreement and praise while never once offering to help.
The Heavenly Demon Divine Cult members cheering him on now all overlapped with those same faces.
“Hoo.”
With Il-mok's deep sigh, the stream of water flowing from his hands began to weaken.
The already thin stream soon cut off entirely, leaving only a faint dribble as its dying gasp.
“G-God...?”
The villagers, in the midst of their bows, looked at Il-mok with expressions wondering if something had gone wrong. The cult members stared at him in bewilderment.
Their faces screamed, *Why stop already?*
Il-mok turned to them and spoke in a calm tone.
“There are limits to this method.”
“Does that mean we're just heading back like this? How can we abandon these pitiful mortals?”
The squad leader piped up, nitpicking despite having done nothing himself. Il-mok cut him off and spoke again.
“I'm not saying to give up. I've thought of another way.”
He meant it.
*Can't just save myself. Nope.*
Having swept his gaze over the onlookers doing nothing but watch him, a brilliant idea had struck.
“If there's a well here, that means there's a water vein running beneath it, right? So we just follow that vein's flow, find a spot where a bit more water has gathered, and dig there.”
It was something he'd realized while forcibly expanding the spell's range.
There was zero moisture in the air, but he could sense the dense flow connected to the well far below.
Not scattered atmospheric moisture, but an actual water vein already flowing as liquid.
That's how he'd arrived at this conclusion, pondering how to put these spectators to work.
*I'll find the water vein and make those bastards dig!*
Filled with thoughts of exploiting the cult members, Il-mok stepped forward boldly.
“This way.”
He deployed lightness skill, following the water vein's flow he'd sensed moments ago. The Count Squad members, Demonic Path Academy cadets and instructors, and a few branch warriors followed.
Overhearing the exchange, the villagers began trailing them too.
Over two hundred people chased after Il-mok as he stopped, closed his eyes.
He extended his qi sense again, tracking the moisture flow deep underground.
Then he would follow it for a stretch before stopping to sense anew, repeating the process.
Guided by Il-mok, now a human water vein detector, they traveled for quite some time.
By the time the sunset sky had turned pitch black.
“Here!”
Il-mok pointed at his feet, having found a spot with a strong water vein flow.
“Depth is about fifteen meters.”
In the modern world, maybe no big deal. But excavating fifteen meters with primitive tools or bare hands, sans machinery? Insanity.
Il-mok didn't care.
Digging wasn't his job anyway.
“From now on, use martial arts to dig.”
There were over seventy people here who could surpass human limits.
At Il-mok's order, some Count Squad members and cadets furrowed their brows.
“Digging a pit with demonic arts?”
“...Not crushing evil scum, but just digging dirt?”
Before the grim-faced squad leader could scold them.
“What did you just say?”
Il-mok spoke first, in an icy tone.
“You called it ‘just digging a pit’?”
“That's right, Cadet Il-mok. Isn't it something anyone could do?”
A Count Squad member replied brazenly, and Il-mok clicked his tongue.
“If you truly think that, you need to reread the scriptures from the start. What is our Divine Cult's most important doctrine? Monitoring the evil lurking within every human heart to keep it from rampaging. We slay evildoers to save mortals not just because they've been consumed by evil and run wild. It's because they give birth to new evil.”
Perhaps because Il-mok, disciple of the Heavenly Demon, was expounding on doctrine. Everyone fell silent, focusing intently.
“So, what of our current situation? The well's water is drying up, and everyone's suffering from thirst. If more time passes and that well runs completely dry, the people here will become evildoers willing to do anything to quench it. I'm not saying they're bad. As the doctrine states, all humans harbor evil within. So, what must we cultists do?”
The squad leader answered Il-mok's question.
“Resolve the problem that could cause them to succumb to evil before they do. In other words, create a new well to slake their thirst.”
He'd known this all along, which was why he'd planned to chew out the whining squad members and cadets.
But since Il-mok had scolded them first, he'd held back to observe.
Separate from answering, the squad leader marveled inwardly.
‘Even among my Viscount Squad, there are short-sighted fools. Yet this kid, so young, thinks so deeply.’
Apart from martial prowess, the vague unease from his constant naps and bathing obsession. Now the squad leader was convinced: the Eighth Young Master was the ‘real deal.’
The cult members, hearing the exchange between squad leader and Il-mok, wore impressed or ashamed expressions.
Il-mok swept his gaze over their varied faces, thinking.
*Where do you think you're wriggling out of this.*
He hadn't delved into any profound thoughts.
His reason for invoking doctrine was simple.
Nothing exploited cultists like doctrine.
*Doctrine's like an earring on the ear or nose ring on the nose anyway.*
Wrap it in plausible words, and you could justify anything. That was the majesty of cult doctrine.
And his intent landed perfectly.
“Now that you understand how vital digging this well is, get to it!”
At the squad leader's stern command, the cult members unleashed martial arts with full effort, starting to dig.
“Urraaaah!!”
Boom!!
Each swing of sword, saber, spear, or bare fist exploded the ground, kicking up sand.
“Now, everyone step back.”
Il-mok spun around, ushering the spectating villagers farther away.
*Ugh, that sand dust is basically a sandstorm.*
He had no desire to eat dust.
Having retreated far with the villagers, Il-mok—mouth and nose covered with silk—issued orders.
“With so many people, rotate shifts. Dig in sequence from the first group, and those whose internal energy depletes fall back, perform Qi Circulation and Breath Adjustment to recover, then rotate in.”
“Keep proper spacing to avoid crossing paths.”
As if following his orders, the human excavators swiftly formed a system and dug downward.
At an insane speed.
The cult members ravaged the ground as if it were a lifelong nemesis, pouring full power into their arts.
The sandy soil meant the floor dropped in seconds, with occasional collapses.
A normal person would've been swept away in disaster, but these diggers were anything but normal.
“Hah!”
Amid sudden cave-ins, cult members lightness-skilled out effortlessly.
“Hahaha. This might even help train lightness skill!”
True to their martial madness, they now saw digging as cultivation.
Meanwhile, the squad leader watching beside him casually asked Il-mok.
“Won't Cadet Il-mok join the digging?”
“I overexerted my mind tracing the vein; I need rest.”
Il-mok lied stone-faced to the squad leader trying to drag him into the labor pit.
Having already confirmed Il-mok's faith, the squad leader accepted without doubt.
“I see. Don't feel too bad. Finding the vein alone is a great deed for the mortals.”
“Hahaha. I'm fine, Squad Leader. I just hope the well finishes soon.”
“Hohoho. Just trust my Viscount Squad and your fellow cadets.”
The naive squad leader, assuming Il-mok regretted not helping more, turned to watch the diggers.
But even with human excavators, digging fifteen meters took considerable time.
Weak soil prevented straight shafts.
Like an inverted cone: wide at top, narrowing to a point below.
And then.
Boom!!
Past three meters, the sounds from the pit changed starkly.
With surface sand cleared, solid bedrock finally emerged.
Now they had to chisel stone to advance.
But the cult members didn't mind.
“Infuse qi to protect your weapons!”
They spewed demonic qi, forming sword or saber auras to slice the floor like butter.
Il-mok, watching from afar with focused sight, issued further orders.
“Use the cut rocks to line the walls! With the center narrowed, three work the core floor, five organize those rocks into perimeter walls, eight haul away surrounding sand to brace against collapses! Sixteen per team, four teams rotating nonstop!”
Il-mok directed without lifting a finger.
As depth and width grew, plus breaching rock, their internal energy drained at a ferocious rate.
Four teams rotated relentlessly every quarter to half hour-mark, digging the well. Cult members returning from a stint looked like beggars.
A stark contrast to Il-mok, leisurely with arms crossed, barking orders.
Time passed again, until the pit was so deep the bottom vanished from outside view.
“Haaaah!”
At the center, Dokgo Pae swung his massive sword relentlessly.
“Underestimate not the Dokgo Heavy Sword!!”
Treating bedrock chunks as arch-nemeses, Dokgo Pae bellowed nonsense.
At first, he'd resented doing such menial work as a warrior. But at some point, his mindset shifted.
‘Stronger!!’
For Dokgo Pae, who wielded power and speed-only heavy sword, this labor was hugely beneficial.
Splitting inanimate rock required only brute force and velocity.
No need to mind defense against lifeless stone. Just ponder maximum swing power.
But no matter how he slashed and shattered, the rock's end never appeared.
Muscles honed in the bodybuilding club trembled, screaming; his vast dantian reserves, always primed to rampage, began drying—like this village's well.
Dokgo Pae hated this. It felt like defeat to mere rock.
“As if this Dokgo Pae would yield!”
Flesh, internal energy, and spirit at their limits. The massive sword he swung at the floor traced a bizarre path.
“!?”
Fueled by fury, a swing from pure instinct.
But martial luminary Dokgo Pae instinctively realized.
*This is the true sword path of Army-Piercing Overlord Sword!*
The Dokgo Heavy Sword technique he'd trained nearly a decade: Army-Piercing Overlord Sword. Its essence was captured in this swing.
Boom!!!
As if validating his epiphany, a massive explosion unlike any before resounded.
Intending to mull over the insight in that strike, Dokgo Pae had to leap away in anguish.
Through the hole he'd blasted, highly pressurized water erupted.
Roooosh!!
At the violent gush, villagers lingering late into the night went wild.
“!! It's out!!”
“W-Water!”
Their ecstatic shouts lasted moments.
Then they bowed en masse.
“Oooooh! Heavenly Demon!”
“The Eighth Young Master has saved us!”
Il-mok had found the vein, directed the entire operation—and above all, he was the Heavenly Demon's disciple, the cult's living god.
The villagers praised Il-mok to the heavens.
Deep into the night.
Hundreds bowed around the massive well, reflecting faint star and moonlight.
Watching the almost holy scene, Il-mok brushed his arms.
*Ugh, goosebumps.*
A scene straight out of a cult playbook.