Chapter 492 ·The Advance (3)

The legion of foreign cultists broke into tongues as they charged toward the walls. It was to the point where even the most devout cultists—zealots who had followed the doctrines of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult for years—could not understand a single word they were saying.

In fact, even the foreigners themselves had no idea what their comrades were saying.

Driven into a state of frenzy, each of them was babbling whatever came out in their own native language.

A handful of fire arrows dropped toward them from above.

It was a desperate counterattack from the few Khalas Empire soldiers who had somehow survived Il-mok's carpet bombing, but a flimsy shower of arrows like that wasn't going to leave a scratch on guys running high on Demonic Arts.

And from the very front of the battlefield, a savage roar cut through the noise.

"BWAHAHAHA!!"

Even with all the blood-pumping adrenaline and screaming, that monstrous laughter pierced their eardrums.

BOOM!!!

An explosion followed immediately after.

Dokgo Ryong had swung his greatsword wreathed in Sword Force and split the small city's gates clean apart.

The foreigners poured through the breach that Il-mok and Dokgo Ryong had opened and flooded past the gates.

Slash!

"AGH!!!"

From there, it was a one-sided massacre.

The Empire hadn't left many troops behind to guard this minor city. And to make matters worse, these psychotic foreign cultists were only one of their problems.

Behind the wave of the psychotic foreigners marched the main army of the Hong Dynasty forces.

It was a complete disaster for the Khalas Empire side.

Even though it felt less like a war and more like stomping on a hill of ants, the soldiers still screamed praises to the Heavenly Demon and blasted hymns in every direction. 

After tasting their first blood, the foreign cultists joined their seniors in praising the Heavenly Demon and belting out hymns.

“GLO~RY! GLORY! O ’ DIVINE CULT!!”

James entered through the gates at a leisurely pace, and he let out a wry chuckle at the spectacle unfolding before his eyes.

In that brief span of time since the battle had erupted, some of them were already drenched head to toe in blood from however many enemies they'd killed, while others sang hymns with bloodshot eyes and drool running down their chins.

They looked like a textbook mob of psychotic cultists.

But that wasn't what made James react.

‘If these guys ever caught a glimpse of the Grand Preceptor’s Death Beam, they might literally pass out while speaking tongues.’

Watching these noobs lose their mind over a basic skirmish was honestly endearing to him.

Meanwhile.

While the Hong Dynasty soldiers reveled in their victory, Il-mok roamed through the city’s streets with his usual companion.

"Haah."

It was wretched.

He wasn't talking about the Khalas Empire soldiers felled by Hong Dynasty soldiers.

Blood was splattered throughout the streets.

Some were new, and some were old.

It’s clear to him that these blood marks were less than two weeks old.

Worse, severed heads were mounted on pikes all down the main road.

Il-mok turned and issued orders.

"Have the men sweep the area. Make sure there are no enemy soldiers still alive. Also, grab our people who can speak the local language to calm down the residents and find out what happened here."

Jong-ri Chu clasped his fist in salute and moved to carry out the instructions.

"It will be done, Grand Preceptor."

The Hong Dynasty soldiers soon split into units and dispersed throughout the small city.

About two hours passed.

It wasn’t until they'd brought the city fully under control that Jong-ri Chu returned.

"All remaining enemy soldiers have been dealt with. We also ran a head count of the surviving locals, and there aren't many left. To be precise, there were almost none aside from women and children."

He explained that any man who tried to fight back was executed on the spot, and anyone who surrendered was forcibly conscripted and sent to other fronts.

They might technically be called Khalas Empire’s soldiers now, but everyone knew they were just going to be used as human shields. 

As for the women and children left behind, they were either forced into hard labor or made to 'serve' the Imperial soldiers. 

And that word, 'serve,' carried a lot of implications.

"Tsk.”

Il-mok clicked his tongue at the horrors of war.

It baffled him that men who supposedly worshipped the same God and supposedly believed in the same religion could do this to each other just because they read their holy book a little differently.

Actually, no. This wasn't just about different religious schools of thought fighting each other.

'How does it make sense that men who claim to believe in God would enslave and rape people?'

Il-mok just couldn't wrap his head around the sickening hypocrisy of it all.

"I imagine every place the Khalas Empire’s army has occupied looks like this."

"That is unfortunately the most likely scenario."

Jin Hayeon's face froze into a frigid tundra while Jeong Hyeon put a bitter look on her face.

Meanwhile, Hyeokryeon Seon-ah was practically leaking killing intent right now.

Off to the side, Dokgo Ryong threw his head back and his eyes gleamed savagely while he laughed.

"BWAHAHA. All the better. We can't let garbage like them keep breathing, so what do you say we go crush the next city right now, Grand Preceptor?!"

Faced with the battle-obsessed old man's proposal, Il-mok surprisingly agreed.

For the time being at least, it seemed best to let that mad old man run wild to his heart's content.

On a vast citadel built atop a basin lay the city of Merv.

It was a grand city of the eastern coalition that had begun to reclaim its former glory after opening trade with the mysterious merchants from the Far East.

That once-splendid citadel was now stained red.

Corpses and fragments of flesh filled the ground near the fortifications.

Everywhere you looked, it was nothing but pooling blood and raging fires.

"Allah, save us!!"

Screams and cries to Allah rang out everywhere.

In a twisted stroke of irony, the soldiers butchering their enemies were also screaming Allah’s name.

Just outside the city limits, a group of about a hundred men was sprinting toward the Amu River, but calling them a band of stragglers wasn't quite inaccurate.

They were the commanders who had led Merv's front lines.

When defeat became inevitable, they'd decisively abandoned Merv and fled the battlefield.

They planned to destroy the bridge crossing of the Amu River and reform their defensive line at Bukhara.

But their flight was cut short before long.

"Did you think I would let you escape alive, Ebrahim?"

Standing right before them was a middle-aged man.

Seeing him, the face of the commander named Ebrahim instantly went pale.

Ebrahim was the greatest warrior of Nishapur, teacher of Abdallah who served as bodyguard to Ma’mun, the city leader of Nishapur and the current supreme commander of the Eastern Coalition's armies.

And he’s also the Eastern Coalition’s greatest warrior.

But before that man, all those grand titles lost their luster.

The Sword of the Empire.

Khalas Empire’s Greatest Warrior.

Grand General Talib.

He stood blocking their escape route with several hundred subordinates at his back.

Gulp.

Before the coalition's greatest warrior could swallow his dry throat and form a reply, the enemy made his move.

"I will take Ebrahim's head myself. The rest of you, clean up the others."

Grand General Talib gave the order as if there were nothing left to discuss, and charged.

Slash.

Those who stood in his path and those who couldn't even dodge in time were cut apart like sheets of paper.

After carving through rows of humans, Talib’s curved blade flew toward Ebrahim.

BOOM!!

Scimitar clad in Saber Force collided, and an explosion tore outward.

"Kugh…"

Ebrahim choked back the blood surging up to his throat and desperately threw himself backward.

"Hmm."

After exchanging several blows with Ebrahim, Grand General Talib successfully grasped his opponent’s realm.

‘Not bad. He's probably right on par with Amir Bahram.’

Amir Bahram.

The most skilled warrior among the five Amirs.

The one who'd remained alone in the west to monitor the movements of the Christians.

'Come to think of it, only four remain now.'

Amir Zayd had been killed in battle, wiped out by those random infidels who had crashed their war out of nowhere.

Despite his wandering thoughts as he swung the saber, Ebrahim was already coated in dust and bleeding from the mouth.

"It's over."

Talib shook off the idle thoughts and began swinging his scimitar in earnest.

Slash.

Before long, Ebrahim's head dropped onto the desert sand.

As red blood spread across the sand, Talib casually drove the butt of a spear through Ebrahim's severed neck and hoisted his head into the air.

Crunch.

Soon after, every commander who had fled Merv was dead.

Talib returned to the city with the troops he'd brought.

"Tomorrow we cross the Amu River and advance east. Tell the men they have the rest of the day to cut loose and blow off some steam."

The moment Talib's order fell, a frenzied celebration erupted in Merv.

A celebration for the imperial troops. A living hell for the residents who remained.

As he continued issuing various orders to organize Merv and prepare for the eastward invasion, unwelcome news reached him.

"The infidels are on the move again?"

The soldier who'd delivered the report shrank back at his reaction.

Talib watched him with that impassive face before waving his hand to dismiss the soldier.

Talib sank into thought.

Should he follow the Sultan’s order and push east with the Amirs to finish off the coalition first?

Or should he divert forces now and deal with those infidels?

Going himself would be fastest, but that would slow the campaign against the coalition.

On the flip side, just sending someone else sat poorly with him given that Zayd had already fallen.

After a moment of deliberation, Talib exhaled and spoke with an irritated expression.

"I believe I clearly warned you not to approach me unannounced."

Right on cue, an old man draped in black robes materialized out of thin air.

He wore a smile that could belong to a harmless next-door grandpa.

His entire demeanor was relaxed, and he was void of any malice whatsoever.

"Hehehe. Do forgive this old man. Unless it's someone of the Grand General's caliber, I can't even get proper practice. So I can't help myself."

Talib regarded the old man with blatant disgust.

The Leader of the Brotherhood of Purity.

The Pinnacle of Hashashin.

The one known by the alias of the Old Man of the Mountain.

Talib did not like him. 

But he didn't reach for his saber to kill him, either.

The man was the Sultan's prized dagger, and Talib understood well enough that he needed the old man for now.

Talib was nothing if not self-aware. 

He himself might have reached a lofty level in martial arts, but he knew he couldn't fix every problem with a saber.

God had given him an innate talent for martial skill and warfare, but in all else he was close to useless.

That was precisely why he followed a Sultan weaker than himself.

Talib could conquer the world, but he had no talent for governing territory or leading a people.

Moreover, he was grateful to the Sultan who had recognized his worth.

The Sultan was the one who spotted his talent for the blade when he was young and gave him his full support from a young age.

Not just that, the Sultan's method of spreading Allah's teachings through force rather than mercy also suited him perfectly.

Because at the end of the day, violence was the only thing he was good at.

The Old Man of the Mountain before him likely followed the Sultan for similar reasons.

Setting aside his killing intent, Talib asked, "What brings you here?"

"Why, I've finished my work and come to report. What else?"

"Hmm. Faster than I expected."

The Old Man of the Mountain and the Brotherhood of Purity's duty was to stabilize the territories the imperial army had conquered.

The Empire's front line currently stretched extremely long because of its unbroken string of early victories.

If revolts broke out in occupied areas during this push, it would cause all manner of problems.

To prevent this very problem, the Old Man and his Brotherhood of Purity had been tasked with roaming the occupied territories and hunting down anyone hiding who might incite rebellion.

In practice, this meant they slaughtered anyone actually planning a rebellion, as well as anyone who looked even remotely suspicious.

After wrapping up his latest mass-murder spree, the Old Man casually brought up a rumor.

"Speaking of which, I heard those infidels have appeared to the south."

"I was just mulling over that problem. The Sultan's orders are to prioritize finishing the coalition in the east, but it seems those infidels have started moving again."

"Hehehe. Then the Grand General should continue on his way. Leave the infidels to us. The Brotherhood of Purity will handle them."

The Old Man sounded like he was offering to go for a light evening stroll, but Talib gave a firm nod of approval.

Amir Zayd had failed against them, but Talib wasn't worried.

If that old man set his mind to assassinate someone, the only person in the entire Empire who could survive it was Talib himself.

Even the five Amirs couldn't escape the old man's grasp if he wished them dead.

Just as the Old Man of the Mountain began to fade back into the shadows, Talib suddenly remembered something.

"Hmm. Before you go, you should know there's a weird rumor going around. They say those infidels are being led by the Avatar of the Evil God. And this avatar wields terrible sorcery borrowed from that dark deity."

Hearing Talib's rare attempt at a warning, the Old Man of the Mountain just smiled.

"Hehehe. I've heard the rumor as well that they follow an evil god. Quite amusing in my opinion. If they serve an Evil God, then I shall personally become their Angel of Death."

A harmless smile appeared on his lips.

Once again, it held no killing intent.

And Talib still couldn’t quite believe himself that this old man with a grandfatherly smile had just killed thousands of people not long ago.

All the while wearing that smile.