Chapter 483 ·East Wind (東風) (3)

"RAAGGGH!!"

With ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍war cries tearing through the air from every direction, Il-mok was busy painting the frontlines red.

Flames ‍​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍of Qi raged around the Ascension Sword in his right hand.

With ‍​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍every arc of his sword, the men closest to him were sliced to ribbons, while the stragglers further back were instantly reduced to ash.

Every ‍​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍now and then, some glory-crazed zealot would use their comrades' corpses as stepping stones to dive at him.

"Allahu ‍​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍Akbar!!"

But whenever Il-mok extended his free left hand, those who had charged met the fate of being turned into an ice block.

With ice on his left and fire on his right, Il-mok right now was the very picture of a transcendent master.

In reality, the internal process was far more complicated than it appeared.

Although his mastery in the Raging Demon Sword Art and the White Hand Demonic Art had skyrocketed since the last war, he was still one or two steps away from achieving Transcendence in either.

If those two extreme energies collided inside his meridians, the results would be catastrophic.

To keep himself from blowing up, he used the Qi of the Soul-Stealing Heartless Sword as a makeshift buffer so the two opposite extremes wouldn’t meet.

So, while he looked like a master of Yin and Yang outside, he was actually juggling with his life.

‘Not bad. Guess I’m not that rusty yet.’

He’d had two peaceful years back home, but he wasn’t stupid enough to slack off.

The Hong Dynasty's deranged habit of settling political disagreements with death matches was more than enough to keep him on his toes. And the fact that some deranged cult-inspired policy almost became the law of the land actually made him train harder than he usually would.

Because of that, it’s not rare for the officials of the Hong Dynasty to spot the Grand Preceptor cultivating his art little by little whenever time allowed.

He was just feeling a tiny bit sluggish because it had been a while since he’d been in a real combat.

Clang!

"Tch."

Right after carving through dozens of men, Il-mok swatted away a javelin that shot out from the crowd and clicked his tongue.

Compared to his prime wartime days, his reflexes were definitely lagging a fraction of a second.

Il-mok turned his head toward the source of the attack and found the attacker beyond the countless enemy soldiers surrounding him on all sides.

"!?"

The guy who threw the spear jumped in fright.

Il-mok decided to return the favor.

He cocked his arm back and then hurled the Ascension Sword at the man.

Swosh!

Wrapped in Sword Force, the blade tore through the air while obliterating anyone and anything stupid enough to be in its flight path.

Crunch.

Not just that, it blew right through the spear-thrower's chest and took his heart with it.

"Well, nothing fixes rusty reflexes like a good old-fashioned bloodbath."

As Il-mok retrieved the Ascension Sword using his Sword Kinesis, those watching him while waiting for an opening immediately charged in at once.

"He threw his sword!"

"Now's our chance! Get him!!!"

"Haah."

Il-mok let out a sigh and danced.

Ice blossomed in the wake of his hand, and anyone who even grazed them was instantly frozen into ice blocks.

After turning twenty charging men into brand-new ice sculptures in a matter of seconds, Il-mok shook his head.

“Back home, showing this much would have sent them running in terror."

But these guys were fanatics; logic and self-preservation clearly weren't in their dictionary.

Smack.

In the meantime, the Ascension Sword finished its round trip and slipped back into his grasp.

Blood scattered through the sky along the arc of his next swing.

Il-mok was not the only one rampaging at the battlefield.

Jin Hayeon was likewise freezing soldiers to death and turned her section of the battlefield into a winter wasteland.

"Haaht!!"

Jong-ri Chu and Hyeokryeon Seon-ah were also slaughtering foes with their Demonic Arts.

"What are you standing around for?! Kill them ri—!"

Thwack!

"Gakh…"

And further away from them, Jeong Hyeon was diligently sending arrows into the gaps between enemy soldiers to snipe mid-level commanders.

And while the top-tier powerhouses of the Hong Dynasty were busy acting as terminators at the front—

"The Heavenly Demon Descends!!"

"Ten Thousand Demons Obeys!!!"

The remaining forty thousand soldiers poured in behind them, widening the breach they had opened at tremendous speed.

The slaughter was so one-sided that the enemy’s resolve completely broke down.

"FALL BACK!"

Shouts erupted in succession from the enemy's rear command, quickly followed by the frantic pounding of drums and blaring of horns.

"The enemy is retreating, Grand Preceptor!!"

Il-mok was already way ahead of Jong-ri Chu’s warning. He immediately launched himself toward the sky and gave chase to the enemy.

Though his posture was as relaxed as a man taking a scenic stroll, his body was blurring forward at breakneck speeds.

"Shoot him!"

"Stop him! Don't let him get close!!"

The enemy brass had absolutely lost their minds, and moments later arrows and various other weapons hurtled toward Il-mok as he walked in the sky.

Most flew wide of their mark and rained down back upon their own men's heads in a pitiful spectacle, but some weapons did fly accurately toward Il-mok.

Clang!

Unfortunately for them, he simply deflected them with the Ascension Sword or sidestepped them with his lightness skill.

"Die, you monster!!"

BOOM!!!

With an ear-splitting roar, a massive iron cannonball tore through the air.

"It's just a lump of iron that doesn't even explode. Cute."

Il-mok condensed Sword Force in rapid succession around the Ascension Sword and formed a Sword Sphere.

KWANG!

The iron ball that met the fiery arc of Qi was cut apart with ease.

Immediately after, the faces of the command staff came into Il-mok's view.

And they looked like they had just seen a ghost.

Thud.

With a few final steps across the sky, Il-mok landed lightly on their command platform.

Slash.

And just like that, he turned the platform into a living hell.

***

Up on the half-crumbled walls of Andkhoy, the coalition soldiers who had barely survived the siege there could not believe their own eyes.

The seemingly invincible army of the Khalas Empire was being wiped out as if a natural disaster had hit them.

"A m-monster." A soldier muttered under his breath.

Funny enough, every single man on that wall knew exactly who he was talking about.

Because right in front of their eyes, the flying monster was busy turning the enemy command into shredded meat.

To the eyes of ordinary soldiers with low-level martial skills, the massacre was nothing more than a violent blur of motion. But it was painfully clear to them that that monster had entirely wiped out the enemy command.

The enemy's command platform had been stained entirely crimson with blood.

Moments later, the Khalas Empire's soldiers began scattering in every direction.

It was not a coordinated withdrawal, as there was no one left to give orders.

They were simply running for their lives.

"Cut them down!!"

“The Envoy of God is with us!”

And behind them was a terrifying mob of unknown fanatics with manic gleams in their eyes,

"…"

All of these bizarre events left them stupefied.

So was Salman, the leader of Andkhoy and the man responsible for its defense.

He had been staring at the carnage in numb disbelief when a new dread seized him.

The mysterious army that had wiped out the Khalas Empire’s army was marching straight toward the walls of Andkhoy.

Gulp.

As he swallowed his terror, a man stepped forward from the approaching force and bellowed.

"We are reinforcements from the Hong Dynasty, here as your allies! We carry dispatches bearing the seals of the lords assembled in Bukhara! Open the gates!"

Hearing the shout, everyone around Salman turned to him.

Salman issued his order without a moment's deliberation.

Salman didn't hesitate for a moment. "Open the gates immediately!"

"But we have no proof they're actually allies!"

"We must at least verify the dispatches they mentioned first!"

At the voices of concern from around him, Salman snorted.

Salman snorted at the protests. "And if they're not? Do you really think we can stop them by fighting to our death with these half-destroyed walls?"

"…"

No one had an answer to that.

The gate hanging off the broken wall opened with an unpleasant grinding screech, and the forty-thousand-strong force filed into Andkhoy.

When Salman and Andkhoy's key figures approached to greet them, the forty thousand parted to either side, and several individuals pushed through the ranks to step forward.

The young man at the very head of the group offered a greeting in an incomprehensible language.

"Well met. I am Il-mok, Grand Preceptor of Hong."

Though their leader was remarkably young, no one found it strange. Everyone there had witnessed the miracles he worked on the battlefield firsthand.

A man standing beside him immediately translated his words.

"He is the Grand Preceptor of the Hong Dynasty. Ah, in our homeland, the position of Grand Preceptor holds the second highest authority below His Majesty the Holy Emperor.”

"I am Salman Razai, leader of this city of Andkhoy. We are deeply grateful that you have brought us aid."

"How could we turn a blind eye to innocent souls suffering under a mad tyrant?”

When Il-mok answered with a faint smile, Salman Razai returned the smile.

It was a bizarre situation for him.

He had spent decades as a leader and considered himself reasonably adept at diplomatic pleasantries, yet forcing this smile made his jaw feel numb.

"Y-your soldiers must be exhausted from the b-battle, so w-we shall prepare a place for you to rest comfortably."

"Hahaha. I am grateful for Lord Salman's consideration."

Salman immediately ordered his attendants to prepare housing for the Hong soldiers.

Weeks of heavy fighting had left no shortage of vacant homes in Andkhoy, and these were turned over to the Hong troops, who scattered in small groups throughout Andkhoy.

By the time things had more or less settled, Salman came to see Il-mok once more.

Fear weighed heavily on his mind, but he still had duties to fulfill as this city's leader.

"Since you are the reinforcements from the Hong Dynasty, will you be marching west tomorrow?"

Salman needed to know what this formidable army intended to do next.

When Jong-ri Chu interpreted Salman's question, Il-mok answered with a faint smile. "Not quite. We plan to stay here for a while to rest and resupply for the time being."

In truth, Il-mok had no intention of pushing deeper into enemy territory, at least not until reinforcements arrived.

***

Meanwhile, in the imperial palace in Baghdad...

Sultan Muhammad ibn Abdallah al-Khalas of the Khalas Empire listened as a stream of reports arrived from the front lines. Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked, "Come to think of it, what became of the Hashashin we sent to Bukhara?"

"We have received no word, Your Highness... It appears there were no survivors."

"A pity."

Yet despite his words, the Sultan looked utterly indifferent.

"I was really hoping to hear how those filthy apostates screamed when they struck."

Truthfully, he didn't care in the slightest that the Hashashin were dead.

Those sent to Bukhara had been nothing more than expendables from the very beginning.

They were just cheap tools manufactured through drugs and carnal pleasure.

The Brotherhood of Purity had true elites, but these were not them.

It would have been a different story if he had lost his true elites, but there was no reason for him to mourn the deaths of dozens or even hundreds of mass-produced pawns created solely to terrorize the commoners.

"Once we cross the Amu River, you will be able to confirm it with your own eyes, Your Highness," his subordinate said.

The Sultan grinned wickedly. "Indeed. The sooner we cross the river and purge those apostates, the better it is for us. And it would be better if we could do that before the western infidels can interfere."

When the Sultan turned his gaze upon the subordinate, the man quickly reassured him. "We still have plenty of time, Your Highness. The Christians frequenting the ports may have caught wind of our holy war, but it will take time for their fractured kingdoms to rally together.”

"They have caught wind of it, you say… Then realistically, we have at most a hundred days remaining."

The western infidels were just as fractured and greedy as the eastern apostates.

It would definitely take time for their respective leaders to convene and align on their agenda; that’s not even mentioning the conscription and dispatch of their armies.

"Fifty days should be more than sufficient to deal with the apostates."

Pleased by the man's confidence, the Sultan smiled.

And several days later. that same confident subordinate was pale with panic as he knelt before the Sultan.

"Your Highness!! The filthy apostates of the east have brought in infidels from the Far East! Tens of thousands of our troops have been slaughtered, and General Harun has been slain at Andkhoy!"