Chapter 296
Chapter 296
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 296
>Chapter Title: The Cult of Evil (1)
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The aftermath of the natural qi enveloping Il-mok caused his body to float lightly into the air.
Even to those unversed in martial arts, those without keen qi sense, the fierce winds gathering around him were palpable.
Crack, crunch.
Il-mok's body began to twist and reform.
With Jin Ha-yeon at the lead, the women guarded him, while the Black Tiger members treated their wounds or kept watch on the surroundings.
“…….”
The slaves who had been sold into bondage stared at the scene with dazed expressions.
As if witnessing the wonders of nature for the first time.
Among them, a middle-aged man.
James, a deckhand who had been aboard a ship from England but fallen into slavery after a pirate attack, thought to himself.
Was that truly the same man as himself?
When first attacked by the Muslims, he had trembled in fear, calling upon God.
Not a devout believer, but like most Europeans, he had taken the existence of Jesus Christ and God for granted.
The memory of the pirate assault flooded back, filling him with terror, but soon he realized the situation was unfolding strangely.
Those who had bought them as slaves were doing everything to protect them.
To the followers of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult, who flew the banner of protecting the masses and punishing the wicked, this was only natural.
But from the perspective of those sold into slavery, it was an utterly unfamiliar situation.
As they watched the battle in bewilderment, a typhoon struck before their eyes.
A typhoon created by two men.
Each clash between the young man who seemed to be the leader of their buyers and the head of the attackers sent sand flying amid deafening explosions.
‘How can a human possess such power….’
It was somewhat familiar to James the deckhand. Firing the cannons loaded on the ship produced results much like that.
The problem was that a human was producing cannon-like firepower with nothing but a single sword.
‘…It’s like seeing a wizard from the tales.’
For a moment, he watched the wondrous battle in a half-trance.
Lightning swirled around the young man’s sword, then splintered into hundreds of strands, tearing the enemy leader to shreds.
But the truly astonishing event happened right after.
Riding the young man’s sword thrust high into the sky, countless beams of light spread out.
Slash!
Slash!
Chilling sounds of flesh being rent echoed from all directions, and the Muslims who had attacked them began to be sliced apart simultaneously.
At that scene far beyond common sense, James gaped and thought.
Those treated as living legends in stories—could even England’s great naval admirals or the captain of the Vatican’s Holy Knights display such inhuman prowess?
The young man, who had demonstrated godlike power transcending humanity, soon collapsed to the ground with a thud, leading to the present.
To James’s untrained eyes, the young man was writhing, engulfed in an intense flow of mana so fierce it was visible, his body twisting this way and that.
For some reason, to James, it looked like a human evolving into another species altogether. Like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly.
But it did not feel holy.
Centered on the metamorphosing man, a red glow reflected in the faint moonlight exuded a bewitching aura.
Over a hundred corpses littered the area, mangled in disarray, and the sand of the once-yellow desert was soaked entirely red.
Thus, James instinctively defined the existence in his own way.
“…Demon King.”
Perhaps this was the moment a single human evolved into a demon king.
Having uttered the horrific title from legends, James feared someone might have heard and hastily covered his mouth with his hand.
At that very instant.
Whoosh.
With the last faint whisper of wind, the intense mana flow enveloping the young man dispersed.
Flash.
As the fully shed being opened its eyes.
“The Heavenly Demon descends!!”
“The myriad demons rejoice!!!”
Those who had protected him bowed toward the young man once more, shouting fervently.
Like fanatics worshiping a demon king.
* * *
“Hoo.”
Il-mok opened his eyes with a light breath, taking in the sight of the Black Tiger members worshiping him.
Receiving such idolization, Il-mok scratched his head and rose to his feet.
He had no intention of considering himself a god.
“Congratulations on reaching Transcending Demon.”
“C-Congratulations, Y-Young Master.”
At Jin Ha-yeon and Jeong Hyeon’s felicitations, Il-mok smiled lightly.
“Thank you.”
Having introspected his internals during the shedding process, Il-mok knew.
Now, within him resided only himself alone. Seo Ji-hoon and Il-mok. The ego of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword. The three divided egos had merged into one.
‘Body’s in good shape.’
His internal injuries had fully healed during the shedding.
But he didn’t feel any major physical improvement.
He had been born with a body the Heavenly Demon acknowledged as “innately heavenly,” and thanks to receiving even the Heavenly Demon’s punitive hair wash, nearly all his meridians were already activated.
Perhaps because he already possessed a supreme body and meridians, the shedding process hadn’t taken long.
No regrets lingered. He knew intuitively. He had ascended to a realm utterly different from before.
No major changes in muscles or bones—physical abilities remained similar.
Yet everything around him felt as detailed as if touching his own body.
It wasn’t mere sharpened senses. Rather, it felt like his existence as “I” in this world had grown vastly larger.
‘Even faintly, one can commune with the world through intent, as he said.’
Recalling the concept of the Intent Realm the Heavenly Demon had explained, Il-mok nodded once and walked toward a certain place.
His destination was where the Majid family men were gathered.
“Ohallak.”
“Y-Yes!”
At Il-mok’s call, Ohallak jumped in surprise and approached, interpreting his words.
“They seemed to be from Merb, but do you have any guess which family sent them?”
After conversing briefly among themselves in the Huihui language, one spoke as representative.
“We heard someone among them mention the name ‘Zafir.’ It seems the enemy leader was that famous Zafir.”
“Zafir? A famous name around here?”
“He’s known as Merb’s greatest warrior, a fighter of the Omar family.”
“Omar family.”
Il-mok could roughly grasp how things had unfolded.
‘No wonder they bought up goods so expensively. They planned this from the start.’
Having inferred that far, Il-mok asked again.
“Then, how much strength do you think the Omar family has left? Quite a few died here.”
“Zafir was a symbol of the Omar family. With him and over a hundred others dead, they’ve lost at least half their power, at minimum.”
Nodding at the man’s answer, Il-mok approached Gu Yang-hyeok.
“Black Tiger Leader.”
“Speak freely, Young Master.”
Though they had used formal speech before, Gu Yang-hyeok now greeted him with even greater deference.
“This feels more comfortable, so I’ll keep it like this.”
Finding it awkward to drop formalities with the middle-aged man, Il-mok let it slide.
“Seems the ones who attacked us were from Merb.”
Il-mok relayed the information from the Majid family man, then turned and pointed toward the carts and wagons carrying the slaves.
For some reason, those in the carts and wagons flinched at his gesture.
Tilting his head slightly, Il-mok said to Gu Yang-hyeok.
“I’m thinking of loading the severely wounded there and heading back to Merb.”
“I’ll have them prepare.”
Gu Yang-hyeok didn’t question Il-mok’s intent.
Even knowing battle might erupt on return, even with the wounded at risk.
Il-mok knew this too, yet chose the path back to Merb for a reason.
‘Even if battle breaks out, our side won’t suffer losses.’
Not arrogance in their forces. He trusted something else.
Besides, better for the severely wounded to recover somewhat in Merb before departing than dragging them five days to Samarkand.
In the meantime, Gu Yang-hyeok issued Il-mok’s orders to the Black Tiger members.
“We’re returning to Merb! Severely wounded, move by cart and wagon. Those who can walk, prepare to march!”
As the Black Tiger members moved in unison, Il-mok headed to the slaves’ area with Ohallak.
“We need to load the severely wounded, so you’ll follow on foot.”
As Ohallak interpreted, the nomadic slaves swiftly rose and disembarked from the carts and wagons.
Even the white and black slaves, unable to understand the language, hurriedly followed the nomads.
‘What’s this?’
Just hours ago, when Black Tiger members taught them letters, they’d shown no enthusiasm. Why so brisk now?
* * *
Deep into the night.
Cutting through the sandstorm, Il-mok and his group began retracing their steps.
Since the slaves had to walk, their leg irons were removed, yet they obediently trailed the Black Tiger members.
Glancing furtively at Il-mok, their eyes mixed fear and awe.
With senses heightened in the Intent Realm, Il-mok didn’t miss their gazes.
‘…Guess I killed a lot.’
Probably terrified from the recent battle.
‘Tch. This is more convenient for now, no helping it.’
No chance to dispel the misunderstanding with words.
After going to headquarters together and staying there, it might clear up.
They trudged endlessly through the desert after that.
As dawn broke, Merb’s walls appeared in the distance, reaching them only around noon.
Having left the city yesterday at noon, returning in ragged shape startled the wall guards.
A Majid family man stepped forward, explaining the “bandit” attack in detail, and the soldiers soon cleared the way.
Entering Merb, their first stop was a massive mansion—one of the powerful families in the Merb council, the Molk family estate.
The Majid man said to the entrance guards.
“Merchants from the East have urgent business for the head of the Molk family. Convey that we’ve come to propose a deal greatly beneficial to the Molk family.”
The words were what Il-mok had conveyed via Ohallak during the journey.
Soon, one guard entered the Molk estate, and shortly a middle-aged man emerged with him.
“Come inside.”
Following the middle-aged man into the Molk estate, they stopped before a large door.
“Only the representative may enter.”
At the guide’s words, Il-mok entered the room with only the interpreter.
“I am Ahmed Molk, head of the Molk family.”
Returning the seated head’s greeting with a light clasped-hands bow, Il-mok spoke.
“I am Il-mok of the Cheonmyeong Merchant Company.”
“Hmm. I heard you sold all your goods and left the city. I’m curious what deal you wish to propose to us.”
At Ahmed Molk’s words, Il-mok smiled faintly and posed an abrupt question.
“What do you think of the Omar family, known as Merb’s greatest house?”
Ahmed frowned at the question.
“What intent do you have in asking me that now?”
“Last night, we were attacked by that Omar family.”
Answering plainly, as if no need to hide, Il-mok turned to Ohallak.
Ohallak opened the lid of the box he’d brought in.
“!!!”
The head’s eyes widened upon seeing the contents.
Inside the box lay a severed human head.