Chapter 176
Chapter 176
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 176
Chapter Title: Heavenly Lord of the Qinggan 4
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“I’ve got a bit of a thing for the captain too….”
Whenever Gimela and the count revealed their lust for Scott, Azadin—who had always brushed it off lightly—finally got a word in.
“Disappointed?”
“Nah, impressed. A man who can ruthlessly sacrifice his subordinates for his own goals anytime. That’s exactly what it takes to be my captain. And hey, it’s just a bit of muscle gain at worst.”
“That so?”
Orcs, who prized intellect above all, weren’t the type to blindly cherish their underlings out of sentiment. They saw it as wiser to sell them off at a fair price if the opportunity arose.
“But that’s separate from whether I’d do it. I hate muscle gain. And from an orc’s perspective, messing around with non-orcs is… kinda low-class. The moment you do, the whole tribe shuns you. They call you an idiot, talentless, and utterly charmless for stooping to hook up with outsiders.”
“Yeah.”
Meanwhile, Shati was shuddering.
“What’s with you?”
“That guy, the count’s lover, the one lugging around that creepy thing.”
“Yeah.”
“Naga gotta go.”
“Yeah?”
“Nagas have to go at it 24/7 just to maybe have a kid… and he’s got one as a lover?”
“…….”
An image naturally came to mind of Count Kimalaji tangled up nonstop with his naga lovers.
Insane stamina? Or just insatiable lust?
“Anyway, on the way here, I saw quite a few nagas. Bthuma lives up to its reputation.”
“Meaning…”
“If the nagas really start attacking Bthuma, it’s game over. But the count seems dead confident, and words aren’t getting through. Let’s just loot that Qinggan holy site or whatever.”
“Sigh. We always end up here. Hate it. Why can’t anyone get it through words?”
“You couldn’t convince your clan either, so now you’re suffering solo. That’s how it goes.”
“To convince others, you gotta hold a knife to their throat. Otherwise, with everyone thinking they’re hot stuff, good luck.”
“Tell me about it.”
Azadin stayed at the lodging Gimela had prepared in Count Kimalaji’s estate, taking some rest.
Gimela still couldn’t shake her greed and tried seducing Scott, but he firmly rejected her advances, averse as he was to muscle gain.
“After rejecting her like that, what if she holds a grudge and poisons the food?”
Azadin remarked as he watched Scott casually eating the meal Gimela had provided.
“It’s fine, Captain. Simple spell detects poison easy enough.”
So saying, Scott ate.
In Bthuma, where rice and beans were staple crops, the food was a mix of rice and beans seasoned with various spices.
To Azadin, from the north, it was exotic and intriguing, but surprisingly palatable.
“Actually pretty good. The meat inside has no fishy or gamey smell—those strong spices mask it perfectly.”
“And it packs on muscle surprisingly well. Not great for me.”
Even as he said it, Scott scraped his bowl clean.
*********
The next day, Azadin’s group prepared to depart.
Jiswa donned chainmail and armed himself with a long club fitted with a metal beak tip—a beak club.
Shati picked out a naga curved sword and naga chainmail veil, draping the chain veil over her face too. She looked every bit the naga.
“What’s the point of disguising as human then?”
“I’ll transform into naga when we fight.”
“Whatever, Scott’s Scott.”
“Let’s go, Captain.”
“Hold up a sec…”
Azadin asked the servants of Count Kimalaji’s domain about news on Corasr.
If the count truly planned to invade Corasr Kingdom, they’d be hyper-vigilant about kingdom intel. Sure enough, their info was swift and precise.
“Fresh report from last night. The king’s church mobilized to save Corasr from the Herald Clan’s takeover, but their bishop got captured, and the holy knights routed.”
“If this keeps up, the king’s church will soon issue a formal subjugation order on Bthuma. That’s our chance to establish the Bthuma-Corasr United Kingdom.”
Swallowing Corasr was a long-held dream; they tossed around “United Kingdom” without hesitation.
By the king’s church doctrine—which branded the emperor’s conquest of the Eight Kingdoms as horrific history—“United Kingdom” was a taboo term that’d paint them as imperialists.
But Bthuma’s ambitions had grown beyond the church’s control, and the church would sooner cede a corner of the Eight Kingdoms to Bthuma than to the Heralds.
“What about Judge Zekt?”
When Azadin asked about Zekt, the servants replied.
“Zekt the Judge vanished after defeat on the Corasr front. They’re watching all holy knights closely in case he slips into Bthuma.”
“I see.”
Azadin was surprised yet relieved at Zekt’s defeat.
That ominous vibe he’d felt upon seeing him meant Zekt wasn’t a contender for the Royal Throne against Aldis after all.
‘Complicated feelings, though. There’s me, scorning human life and rejecting the council for allying with nagas and other Kurt deities. And me, hoping the Aragasans don’t lose.’
From Azadin’s view, the council were potential foes, but he didn’t want them crushed pointlessly.
Maybe because he was Aragasan too. Mixed emotions.
“Then the lady wishes you good fortune. This is her gift.”
As a token from Gimela, the servants handed Azadin a pouch of gold coins.
“What’s all this…”
Azadin marveled at Gimela’s generosity. Five gold pieces—way too much for random visitors.
His finances were already strained from the refugees, so he gratefully accepted.
*********
With every step of Scott’s Corpse Abomination, the scenery whipped past. Azadin’s mountain goat sweated buckets chasing the abomination.
In Bthuma’s hot, humid clime, the Kerim goat was on the verge of collapse, so Azadin loaded it onto the abomination’s cart.
“We’re almost there.”
Jiswa said while guiding.
“You said ‘almost’ earlier. Thanks to you, my goat’s exhausted.”
“How about shearing the wool?”
“Kerim goats aren’t like regular sheep—shave ’em too close, and it might not grow back.”
“That so? Still, in this heat, shearing seems better.”
“The fat from Kerim wool is precious rust-proof oil for Herald Folk… For now, maybe trim the leg毛?”
Then the Corpse Abomination halted.
“Damn.”
Scott groaned.
“Holy site’s close. Undead won’t budge.”
“Undead refusing to enter?”
“Yeah. Autonomous control’s got limits. Gotta manual it now.”
Scott frowned.
The path had narrowed to a trail—too tight for a big monster.
“No good. Time to disassemble.”
“Disassemble?”
“That’s necromancy for ya. Corpses rot if idle, wear out if moved. Gotta craft fresh art every time—that’s the curse.”
Scott described necromancy like he was some hobbyist artisan. He disassembled the Corpse Abomination and reassembled it into smaller undead.
“Ugh.”
Azadin averted his eyes from the gruesome sight.
Good thing Zibek wasn’t here. He’d be fighting the urge to decapitate Scott.
“Anyway, Jiswa. If undead balk at entering, this must be near the holy site, right?”
“Yes. Nearly there. Pilgrims barred from here on.”
Jiswa hopped off the cart, pointing to ropes strung between trees.
“Gold cord marks the holy site.”
“Right. Time to prep.”
Azadin pulled out his New King’s Scripture copy, absorbing white mana and spreading it evenly through his body.
Before, one page sufficed; now he drained two or three at once.
Absorbing the white mana brought a storm raging inside him.
“Ngh…”
Azadin wiped his nose.
Nosebleed.
But in contrast, power surged fiercely through him.
“Captain. How about scrapping Kazas Hymns and starting magic from scratch? You’re getting stronger, sure, but…”
Scott earnestly urged conversion, eyeing Azadin’s state.
But for a Herald like Azadin, erasing the Herald grimoire Flower-Wind-Moon was absurd.
Let alone losing all built-up power.
“No can do now.”
With Herald plots threatening countless civilians across Corasr, Bthuma, and beyond, Azadin had no time to wipe his grimoire and restart.
Azadin stepped into the Qinggan holy site.
*********
The Qinggan’s founder, called the Heavenly Lord, was a wandering merchant who fled bandits and harsh taxes into this dark forest, where he encountered ‘Grimsrow, Gloomy Old Tree of the Swamp’—a Nether being.
More precisely, a chunk of its flesh. Grimsrow had once been banished from the mortal plane by the Three Great Archangels worshipped by the Salvation Knights.
The angels repelled Grimsrow, and a piece of its body fell here. Unaware, the Heavenly Lord camped atop the old stump, struck by sudden lightning, and fell into a coma.
Unconsciously, he drank Grimsrow’s sap and blood, gaining enlightenment.
“Sounds like a cult to anyone. That sparked faith? Jiswa?”
“Yes. By then, I’d already drunk Grimsrow’s sap and been saved.”
“Fair. Better than dying of malaria, I guess. So the Heavenly Lord tried extracting the fragment for steady sap…”
“Failed. Every monster in the dark forest swarmed him.”
“I see.”
As Azadin’s group entered the forest, wolf howls echoed from somewhere.
Even in daylight, before sunset, wolf cries rang out. Rustling bushes sounded like murmurs, mocking snickers.
Sounds circled them from all sides, toying with them.