Chapter 288
Chapter 288
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 288
>Chapter Title: Huihui Cult (2)
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As the sunset faded, Il-mok and his group arrived near the walls of Samarkand.
True to form for a city encircled by sturdy walls, several soldiers who appeared to be gatekeepers stood watch at the entrance.
"Halt! Where are you from?"
The man who seemed to be the leader of the soldiers bellowed at them in an unfamiliar tongue, and Ohal-lak soon translated.
"We're a merchant caravan from the Han lands in the Central Plains, beyond the desert."
Ohal-lak relayed Il-mok's words, and the soldiers murmured among themselves.
"Wait here a moment!"
By the time Ohal-lak translated the leader's words, one of the soldiers was already dashing into the city.
'What the hell?'
While Il-mok and the others wore puzzled expressions, the soldiers continued to eye them with heavy suspicion.
"If you're merchants, have you come to sell those goods?"
When Il-mok confirmed it in response to the lead soldier's question, the man pressed further.
"For the city's safety, we'll need to inspect the contents of the crates."
No sooner had Ohal-lak translated than the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult disciples bristled with wariness.
"What are your orders, Young Master?"
Gu Yang-hyeok asked on their behalf, and Il-mok first glanced at Ohal-lak.
"Don't translate what we're saying right now."
"Got it."
Il-mok let the interpreter's blunt reply slide and answered Gu Yang-hyeok.
"Let them look for now. If they make any shady moves, I'll give the signal—then you can draw your weapons, no problem."
It meant they would comply, but stay combat-ready.
The Black Tiger Squad members understood, relaxing their outward vigilance while preparing to strike at any moment.
"Tell them to go ahead and check."
Only then did Il-mok ask Ohal-lak to translate.
All the while, other thoughts crossed his mind.
'They're probably looking for an excuse to shake us down for bribes.'
The lead soldier's attitude screamed extortion.
In the meantime, the man approached and began opening the crates one by one amid the Black Tiger Squad members.
He scrutinized the medicinal herbs, silver taels, silks, and porcelain inside with a sharp gaze for quite some time.
By the time the soldier had finished inspecting all the crates, someone approached the gate in a hurried gait—neither running nor walking.
It was the soldier who had dashed out earlier, accompanied by a middle-aged man dressed in distinctive Huihui Cult robes.
As the middle-aged man drew near, the lead soldier who had finished his inspection leaned in for a whispered exchange.
Once their conversation ended, the middle-aged man spread his arms wide and approached Il-mok and the group.
"Welcome to Samarkand. Haha! It's been ages since guests from the Central Plains have visited us. I am Karim Adjizi."
His welcoming demeanor made the intent clear even without Ohal-lak's translation.
No sooner had Karim Adjizi finished his greeting than the soldiers who had blocked their path stepped aside to either side.
As the Black Tiger Squad members exchanged baffled looks at the sudden change in attitude, Karim Adjizi spoke while passing through the soldiers toward the city interior.
"Come inside. I'll show you around the city."
When the group looked to Il-mok with questioning expressions, he nodded.
"Let's head in for now. Lingering outside won't get us anywhere."
In the end, they entered Samarkand proper with Karim Adjizi.
"Hahaha. You must have been startled by the soldiers' attitude. No need to worry. It's just been so long since guests from the east arrived that the soldiers were thrown off and acted a bit prickly."
Ohal-lak gave a curt translation of Karim Adjizi's lengthy explanation.
"Don't worry. Eastern guests rare. Soldiers flustered."
"......"
It was far shorter than what the man had rattled off, but the gist came through.
'Eastern visitors via the Silk Road have been scarce.'
The desert route—a trade path closed for nearly two hundred years thanks to the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult—had long been impassable.
The steppe route was even longer and crisscrossed by nomadic tribes staking their territories, making it equally treacherous.
The sea route remained, but it bypassed Samarkand entirely when heading west.
"Hahaha. This is the oasis that sustains us people of Samarkand."
They traveled for some time, listening to Karim Adjizi's guided tour.
Il-mok felt an odd sensation.
'For a city with such massive walls and scale, it feels strangely empty.'
How to put it? From Seo Ji-hoon's modern perspective, it was like arriving in an old downtown core.
Once bustling, now depopulated and exuding a desolate vibe.
'Is this the fallout from the closed desert route?'
Anxiety naturally bubbled up.
'At this size, it'll be tough to get fair prices for porcelain or silk.'
He figured they'd need to seek out larger cities.
'...At least it's not in ruins. Small mercies.'
That thought had nothing to do with the closed route.
According to the history Seo Ji-hoon knew, most Silk Road cities should be ruins by now.
Ruins courtesy of the Mongol Empire.
Seo Ji-hoon wasn't an expert in world or Chinese history, so he couldn't name every city the Mongols had razed.
But he knew the basics: the Mongol Empire, called the Yuan Dynasty in China, had laid waste from the Islamic Middle East to Eastern Europe.
Yet during their journey from the desert onward, they hadn't encountered a single ruin, nor heard tales of nomadic invasions.
'As expected, no Yuan Dynasty in this world.'
He had roughly anticipated this while studying history for the Demonic Path Academy entrance exam and gathering intel during his year in the Central Plains.
'The timeline matches recorded history up to the Song Dynasty.'
References to the Spring and Autumn period, Chu-Han Contention, Three Kingdoms, Tang Dynasty, and so on—all idioms and allusions were identical here.
But no Genghis Khan invasions. The Song fell to conflicts with the Jin and internal rot.
From those ashes rose the current Han Dynasty rulers of the Central Plains, founded by an emperor claiming descent from the ancient Han emperors.
The Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, rallying under the banner of purging the corrupt Song and driving out the northern Jin, had earned great merits.
Yet true to their violent doctrines, they were discarded like a dog after the hunt and exiled to Xinjiang two hundred years ago.
Thus, Il-mok pegged the era at roughly the early fifteenth to sixteenth century in modern terms.
No expertise in Chinese or world history meant no precise dating, but his Korean history studies for the civil service exam allowed a ballpark guess.
'Feels weird thinking about it this way. These ruins might not even exist if I'd come here in modern times.'
He had reached a Silk Road city untouched by the Yuan.
Reflecting on his past life's感慨 as he strolled the city under Karim Adjizi's lead.
They arrived at a building too grand for a mansion yet too modest for a palace, opulent and sprawling.
"This is the palace of the Raman family, who govern Samarkand. The family head, Bazarh Raman, has invited you all to stay here tonight—what do you say?"
Il-mok swallowed a sigh at Ohal-lak's translation.
'So that's why this guy showed up from the start.'
The city tour was a pretext; the real goal was luring them here.
But outright refusing an invitation from the city ruler seemed more hassle, so Il-mok accepted for now.
In the end, Il-mok and the group followed Karim Adjizi into the mansion.
They traversed a lavish corridor for a bit before a massive door greeted them. The guarding gatekeeper shouted in an unknown language, and with a creak, the great doors swung open.
A grandly decorated hall filled Il-mok's view.
At the far end, on the seat of honor, sat a man with a bushy beard and turban, dripping with gold jewelry on his neck and fingers.
Surrounding him were men in Huihui Cult robes, seated and awaiting their arrival.
"Hahaha. Welcome to Samarkand, merchants from a distant kingdom. I am Bazarh, head of the Raman family."
The man on the seat of honor bellowed while remaining seated.
For some reason, Ohal-lak stood there dumbfounded, unable to translate.
Karim Adjizi belatedly explained something, allowing Ohal-lak to relay the family head's words. Then, with an awkward expression, Ohal-lak added an excuse.
"I don't know the Huihui Cult language."
Apparently, the family head's greeting was in the Huihui Cult's tongue, not the nomads'.
"Our thanks for the warm welcome. I am Il-mok of the Heavenly Brightness Merchant Group from the Han lands."
The Heavenly Brightness name was a mashup of Heavenly Demon Divine Cult and Mirok Brightness Cult.
"Hahaha. Welcoming guests is a long tradition of our Huihui Cult—sit comfortably."
Through Ohal-lak and Karim Adjizi's double translation, Il-mok and Bazarh Raman exchanged greetings.
'Welcoming guests is an Islamic tradition...'
Then what were those bandit scum who attacked us all this time?
Il-mok concealed his inner thoughts, directed the group, and took seats along one wall of the banquet hall.
No sooner had they sat than women in hijabs flooded the hall carrying platters.
They set food before the Raman family men and Il-mok's group.
"Hahaha. It's our standard hospitality for guests—no need to feel burdened. Oh, right, I hear easterners enjoy liquor, but our Huihui Cult forbids it, so bear with us."
"No issue. We don't care much for it either."
The Heavenly Demon Divine Cult had banned alcohol anyway after studies linked it to qi deviation side effects from demonic arts—no great loss.
"Hahaha. Glad to hear it. I've prepared something far more entertaining than booze in its place, so relax and enjoy your meal."
With that, Bazarh Raman took the lead by eating from his own table, as if to demonstrate.
In case of poison, Jin Ha-yeon, Jeong-hyeon, and Joo Seo-yeon sampled first.
Watching this, Bazarh Raman struck up a conversation with an intrigued look.
"Hahaha. With three wives, you must be a capable man yourself."
His words came through Karim Adjizi and Ohal-lak, leaving Il-mok baffled.
"Ahem. They're not my wives."
"Oh? So the Han lands allow only one wife per man, like that fellow over there."
"...Not exactly, but does the Huihui Cult permit multiple wives?"
"Hahaha. The Quran states that if you can treat all wives justly and equally, the more the better. A capable man like me ought to have several, no?"
"Y-Yeah."
As Il-mok gave a lukewarm response, Jin Ha-yeon finished sampling and spoke.
"No poison."
Her expression remained impassive as ever.
Joo Seo-yeon muttered something like "Men," while Jeong-hyeon blushed for some reason.
The crowded space seemed to discomfort her.
With poison ruled out, Il-mok took a bite, prompting Bazarh Raman to ask.
"How's the food to your taste?"
"Excellent."
"Hahaha. Good to hear."
Bazarh Raman abruptly clapped his hands, and the doors opened again as over ten women entered the room.
"Hahaha. To bless your journey, my six wives and some dancers have prepared a performance."
No sooner had he spoken than the women lined up in the banquet hall's center, bowed once, and began to dance.
Holding curved swords—blunt blades for the dance—they wielded them gracefully, thin veils attached to the swords fluttering ethereally.
It was captivating.
The women veiled half their faces with cloth and covered their bodies fully in garments.
Yet the dance subtly revealed glimpses of skin, and the thin fabric hinted at what lay beneath.
From a Confucian eastern viewpoint, it was utterly indecent, but this was Huihui Cult territory—best chalked up to cultural differences.
To heighten the seductive, dreamlike allure of their dance, perhaps.
Before long, a faint, hazy smoke began wafting through the banquet hall.
Il-mok savored the splendid, otherworldly dance Bazarh Raman had arranged for a moment.
Then, he smiled with keen interest.
"A formation using dance and drugs. Intriguing."
It was a smile laced with murderous intent.