Chapter 50
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 050
Chapter Title: The Ironblood General of the Frontlines
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A few days later, the western front.
A border fortress where desolate dust storms raged. The soldiers were exhausted, covered head to toe in blood and grime. Their morale scraped the depths, battered by the barbarians' relentless waves of assaults day after day.
At that moment, a bizarre sight appeared beyond the horizon.
Flash. Flash.
Piercing through the sandstorm came a massive carriage gleaming with golden light. It stood in stark contrast to the dust-caked battlefield, exuding an otherworldly grandeur as if from another realm entirely.
"I-Is that the reinforcements?"
"A carriage more suited to a gisaeng's gambling den..."
As the soldiers whispered among themselves, the fortress gates creaked open, and a general strode forth.
A woman with fiery red hair whipping in the wind, clad head to toe in crimson armor. Her mere presence weighed down the air around her. She was the living legend of the western front—the Ironblood General.
Her face bore no scars, only deep fatigue and fury. She'd expected an elite cavalry unit as reinforcements, but the clownish procession before her was hardly that.
Creaaak—
The massive carriage halted right in front of the Ironblood General.
She scowled fiercely and bellowed.
"A pretty-boy eunuch like some gisaeng's plaything as the supervising officer from the Imperial Palace?! This isn't a playground for little girls! Get the hell out of here!"
Killing intent laced her voice. Any ordinary man would have pissed himself under that pressure.
But Cheonwi, stepping out as the carriage door swung open, remained utterly composed. He descended the stairs gracefully, handkerchief pressed to his nose to ward off the dust.
Cheonwi removed the goggles perched on his face and slipped them into his pocket. His eyes raked the Ironblood General up and down.
"Oh dear, General. Such rough words for our first meeting."
His gaze slid past her face, lingering on the generous swell of her chest straining against her armor and the firm lines of her thighs.
"I'm not here for child's play. I came to play a little 'horse riding'."
Cheonwi flashed a sly grin and took a step closer.
"They told me there's a real wild, fierce steed around."
It was blatant provocation—a sexual insult. The Ironblood General's eyes blazed with rage.
"You gelded pig bastard...!"
Clang—!
She yanked the greatsword from her waist. The hefty slab of steel cleaved the air toward Cheonwi's neck. This was no mere threat. She fully intended to lop his head off.
Yet Cheonwi didn't dodge. He didn't even seem to consider it.
Rather than the incoming blade, he was entranced by her explosive figure jiggling beneath the armor with every swing.
'Hoo... Way meatier than I thought?'
Cheonwi smacked his lips and slowly extended a hand toward the approaching edge. A leisurely smile—no, the grin of a predator—curved his lips.
Boom!
A thunderous explosion shredded the desert's silence. Amid the sand whipping up like a storm, the Ironblood General's pupils quivered in disbelief.
The weapon in her grip was a black iron greatsword, a terror of the battlefield that could slice boulders like tofu. Yet that massive strike hung frozen mid-air, blocked by a single slender finger from some man.
No—not even touching.
A transparent hexagonal wave bloomed from his fingertip, perfectly repelling her blade.
"......!"
A stifled groan escaped the Ironblood General. The recoil throbbed in her wrist. This wasn't martial arts. No flow of internal energy, no pulse of qi. Just an overwhelming, utterly alien barrier of 'force'.
"Wh-what is this? Not qi projection... what is this bizarre energy?"
She panicked and tried to pull back, but her sword clung like iron to a magnet, refusing to budge. Her red hair lashed wildly in the desert's hot gusts.
Across from her, Cheonwi stifled a yawn, looking bored out of his mind.
"General, your welcome's a bit too hot. The desert sun's already roasting me alive—do you plan to char me to a cinder too?"
Cheonwi flicked his finger lightly.
Ting—!
With a clear ring, her greatsword snapped backward. The Ironblood General lost her balance and staggered back a couple steps. Her pride as a warrior took a hit.
Cheonwi dusted off his sleeve and smiled faintly. That smile scratched oddly at the nerves while holding an irresistible allure.
"If you'd like, shall I return the courtesy—in my own way?"
"Return the courtesy?"
She tightened her grip on the greatsword again, guard unwavering.
Cheonwi turned the strangely shaped handle on the carriage door behind him.
Hiiiiss—
Like a sealed canister popping open, the heavy door slid smoothly aside.
That instant.
Whoosh!
A frigid, refreshing chill exploded out, instantly shoving aside the desert's dry, scorching heat. It was the crisp clarity one might feel only at the peak of a winter snow mountain.
The Ironblood General's eyes went wide. The cool sensation hitting her sweat-slick, sticky skin was pure shock.
"Th-this coolness... Ice arts? Maintaining ice arts over an entire carriage—what kind of internal energy makes that possible?!"
Cheonwi let out a soft chuckle at her astonishment.
"Ice arts? They say ignorance is bliss."
"What did you say?"
"Just 'science'. Come on in. Don't stand out there sweating like a pig."
Cheonwi ducked inside first. The Ironblood General hesitated. Suspicion it might be a trap warred fiercely with the primal urge to plunge into that heavenly coolness.
Then his voice called from within.
"Hurry in and shut the door. The cool air's escaping. And..."
Cheonwi winked and fanned the air with his hand.
"Cool off that sweat. You might not notice, General, but you reek pretty bad right now. Thought it was aged fermented soybean paste for a second."
"You... insolent wretch!"
Her face burned crimson. True, she hadn't bathed amid the battlefield chaos, but having it called out to her face—by a man, no less—was a first.
Snorting indignantly, she stepped inside. If only to prove she didn't stink, she planned to chew him out.
But the moment the door sealed shut, perfectly blocking the outside noise and heat, the Ironblood General lost her words.
"......Ah."
It was paradise.
The carriage interior was a world apart from the exterior. Plush red carpet floored it, walls adorned with softly glowing jewels. But above all, cold air endlessly poured from a boxy unit in the ceiling corner—the air conditioning system—keeping everything blissfully comfortable.
Unthinkingly, she closed her eyes and savored the chill. As it seeped through her armor gaps, days of built-up fatigue melted away like snow.
"How is it? Better than the Imperial Palace, eh?"
Cheonwi already lounged on a plush leather sofa, legs crossed. He lifted a glass bottle from the table. Ice brimmed in a clear tumbler as dark liquid gurgled over it.
Clink, clink.
The sound of ice in the heart of the desert was sweeter than any melody.
"Here, take it."
Cheonwi offered the glass of black liquid. The Ironblood General accepted it with suspicious eyes. The chill against her fingertips made her gulp.
"Not poisoned, right?"
"If it were, you'd be dead already. Want me to prove it with my lips?"
Cheonwi's sly retort drew a snort from her as she brought the glass to her lips and chugged.
"Urk!"
Her brow furrowed.
"Bitter! What the hell is this taste? Poison after all?"
"So uncouth. It's called 'coffee'. The taste of life."
Cheonwi elegantly sipped from his own glass.
"Bitter at first, but nothing beats it once you get used to it. Clears the head, gets the heart pumping, and most importantly..."
Cheonwi locked eyes with her.
"Your sword's impressive, General, but too rigid. Sometimes you gotta loosen up like this, stay flexible or it snaps. Fluid as water, adaptable."
She savored the lingering bitterness on her tongue. Strange. Bitter on the tip, but the aftertaste cleared her mind like a flash. Crunching the ice sent cool pleasure straight to her bones.
She glanced sidelong at Cheonwi. At first glance, he'd seemed just a pretty-boy eunuch with a decent build. But that bizarre barrier he'd shown, this absurd carriage, those piercing eyes that saw right through a person...
'What the hell is he? No ordinary eunuch.'
As wariness shifted to curiosity—
Bwaaaaah—!
A shrill trumpet blared outside. The signal for an enemy raid.
The Ironblood General shot up like a coiled spring.
"Enemy attack! I have to go!"
Pure soldier's instinct. She snatched her greatsword and lunged for the door, but Cheonwi's hand clamped her shoulder.
"Sit."
"Let go! The soldiers are in danger!"
"Just sit already. You finally cooled off—gonna sweat buckets again?"
Cheonwi forced her back onto the sofa with iron strength. She struggled, but his grip surpassed imagination.
"Rushing out now, you won't see shit in the sandstorm. Way more efficient commanding elegantly from here than charging around with a sword."
"Command? Can't even see outside!"
Instead of answering, Cheonwi lightly stroked the crystal orb on the table.
Hummm—!
The orb glowed, unfurling a massive holographic map in the air. No mere drawing—the desert terrain shifted in real time, soldiers marching across it live.
"Th-this..."
The Ironblood General's jaw dropped. She'd thought clairvoyance existed only in legends. This was the gaze of a god.
"Real-time feed from a 'mechanical falcon' (drone) in the sky. Take a look."
Cheonwi zoomed the airborne map. Red dots raced toward the allied flank.
"They're flanking via the northeast valley. Ambush force around 300. Light infantry mostly, not cavalry. Looks like they dismounted to muffle their steps."
Cheonwi's analysis was ice-cold and spot-on. The Ironblood General stared blankly at the hologram before snapping to.
"What do we do? Too late to reposition!"
"Late? Perfect timing."
Cheonwi jabbed a spot on the map.
"Tell your adjutant to fire a signal flare. I'll give the coordinates. Move the archer unit to the 3 o'clock hill, aim catapults at 45 degrees. Range: 300 paces."
Mesmerized, she snatched the communication magic stone. Relaying orders as he called them out sent chills racing down her spine.
"Fire!"
With her shout, arrows and boulders launched from the allied camp on the screen.
Boom boom boom!