Chapter 493 ·The Advance (4)

If one travels west past Baghdad, the capital of the Khalas Empire, they will eventually reach a vast sea.

Cross that sea, and you arrive at another land somewhere in Europe.

Men whom the Central Plains called Colored Eyes People had gathered around an impressive round table.

At the head sat an elderly man dressed in the pure white vestments of the clergy.

He was a Cardinal sent by the Papal Court to represent the Pope at this conference.

He surveyed the representatives of each nation one by one.

The atmosphere around the room was tense.

But then again, what did he expect? 

Neighboring countries actually getting along was basically a fairy tale. That was just human nature, even for countries that supposedly worshipped the same God.

And that very reason was why the kings and supreme rulers were absent from the meeting.

Nobody was stupid enough to send their monarch into a room full of their worst enemies.

And because they only sent their backups, the Papal Court sent only a Cardinal instead of the Pope.

After watching the silent standoff for a moment, the Cardinal carefully opened his mouth.

These people despised one another, but even mortal enemies could be made to work together.

All it took was the right kind of outside threat.

"As you've already been informed by letter, the Khalas Empire has launched a war of conquest."

And that threat was an enemy larger and more dangerous than any of them.

The moment the words left his mouth, several representatives narrowed their eyes.

Portuguese delegate snapped first.

"And whose fault might that be? Isn’t that entirely thanks to certain greedy fools who kept feeding the starving lion?"

Though he didn't explicitly name anyone, everyone at the table knew exactly what he was talking about.

The Republic of Venice. The Republic of Genoa. The Republic of Florence.

These nations had spearheaded trade with the Islamic world and made a fortune from the trade.

The middle-aged Venetian representative snorted. "Oh, please. Don't make me laugh. Who do you think buys the lion's share of the pepper and spices we bring back? Oh right, your nobles."

The representatives from Genoa and Florence immediately jumped in to back him up. 

It was actually pretty hilarious.

Those three republics shared borders and were constantly cutting each other's throats over maritime trade routes.

They despised each other, yet united as one the second someone else outside of their triad attacked.

"That's only because you people blocked us from using the Mediterranean!"

The Italians just rolled their eyes. "I don't know what you mean. Pay the fee and you can use our ports like anyone else."

"Besides, if you were trying to use the Mediterranean, doesn't that mean you were also trying to trade with the Khalas Empire? You are hardly in a position to criticize us."

As the Portuguese representative's face turned bright red, other delegates began to take his side one by one.

"Enough wordplay. It cannot be denied that your republics basically funded the Khalas Empire."

"Blinded by gold, you aided infidels. That makes you no better than infidels yourselves."

And another hilarious scene was that the reps from England and France actually joined in condemning the Italian republics.

Both kingdoms had been bled dry by their long war, but decades had passed since then, and they were slowly recovering their strength.

Plus, they also had their own reasons for siding with Portugal.

With Portugal blocked from Mediterranean trade, the nation had spent the last several years attempting an insane plan.

That is, sailing around the African continent to reach the east and trade directly.

Initially, everyone had dismissed it as a fool's errand.

But recent rumors suggested they had actually succeeded in bypassing Africa and were actively trading with a land called India. 

The reps from England and France saw an opportunity in this meeting.

By criticizing and holding the maritime republics accountable for empowering the Khalas Empire, France and England intended to improve their relations with Portugal.

Their ultimate goal was to purchase eastern luxury goods through Portugal at a lower cost, or even gain access to the new sea routes Portugal had pioneered.

While the delegates were busy calculating against each other by the hour, the Cardinal finally decided he'd heard enough.

"Assigning blame is not what matters right now. We can point fingers at each other later. Right now, our only focus needs to be stopping the Khalas Empire."

"Hmm. Sounds an awful lot like you're pitching another Crusade."

"And if it comes down to it, why shouldn't we?"

A myriad of complex emotions flickered through the eyes of the national representatives.

The Crusades.

On paper, it was all about God and holy righteousness, but the actual practice was not that far from a cash grab for national and personal glory.

A victory would mean an opportunity to plunder the wealth the Khalas Empire had spent years accumulating.

The conference ran for several more days.

To Crusade, or not to Crusade? 

And if they do, who’s going to cough up the troops and how many?

Defeat meant nothing gained, but even victory would be hollow if one kingdom bore the brunt of the fighting and its neighbors moved in to pick the loots.

There was no shortage of variables, and no shortage of nations to complicate them.

The conference could not end in a single day.

And each new piece of intelligence from the Islamic civil war pushed opinion further in one direction.

"Now is our chance. We have reports that Talib of the Khalas Empire has marched deep into the eastern territory. If we can secure the Empire's western territories before he returns, the gain to us would be immeasurable."

Some visited other delegations privately to discuss terms.

"Rumor has it they've already swallowed half the eastern lands. If we let them secure that entire region, it's only a matter of time before they turn their fangs on us. We have to wipe them out before they get the chance."

Others took the stage to loudly preach about the 'greater good' and defending their Christendom.

At the end of the day, all the plotting led to one obvious conclusion.

They will launch a Crusade and invade the Khalas Empire.

The representatives sent letters back to their kingdoms and duchies, and word began spreading to powers across Europe one by one.

***

While armies gathered far to the west for a crusade, Il-mok and the Hong Dynasty’s forces were filing through city gates into another settlement.

Mazar-i-Sharif.

Once the crown jewel of the region, it now lay half-dead due to the flames of war, especially after the imperial army got its hands on it.

"Just as bad as everywhere else."

Il-mok clicked his tongue quietly.

Blood had soaked throughout the city, and the streets were littered with the bodies of locals slaughtered just to make a point.

Once the Hong army finished clearing out the imperial troops, the surviving civilians slowly crept out of their homes.

They fell to their knees on the ground, bowing deeply and offering prayers of thanks to the Hong soldiers.

"Thank you. Thank you for saving us."

Life under the heel of the Khalas Empire had been hell.

To the locals, the Imperial troops were no different from demons, and the people who'd driven those demons out looked like angels sent down from heaven to the residents.

"Tell the men to gather up whatever supplies the Empire left behind and hand them out to the civilians."

Il-mok and his forces cared for the people of Mazar-i-Sharif, repaired the walls damaged in the fighting, and began spreading the Divine Cult's teachings over the following days.

Then, an urgent piece of news reached Il-mok.

"It appears the coalition's front lines are on the verge of collapsing."

Dokgo Ryong's response was immediate and jubilant. "What are we doing standing around here? To the battlefield, now!"

They left Mazar-i-Sharif and headed northwest for several days.

When they returned to Andkhoy, Il-mok received another update.

"Damn."

The news stated that Merv had already been conquered and the front lines had broken.

The only silver lining was that the coalition had destroyed all the bridges crossing the Amu River and was preparing to establish a new defensive line across the river.

Il-mok had been wondering why things had been so suspiciously quiet lately.

And now he realized why.

While they'd been busy in the south, the Empire had quietly abandoned that front entirely and concentrated everything northward.

"It seems we'll need to keep them occupied for a while and buy the coalition some time to get their line in order."

"Hahaha! Why bother keeping them occupied? Just slaughter them all away and be done with it."

"By all means."

"Hahaha! Now you're speaking my language, Grand Preceptor!"

That sarcasm was wasted on Dokgo Ryong.

***

Il-mok and the Hong Dynasty’s forces left Andkhoy and pushed toward Merv.

By this point, their total troop count had dropped to around sixty thousand.

This wasn't because they had suffered heavy casualties while clearing the area, but due to security reasons. They had to leave a few thousand soldiers behind as garrisons in every region they reclaimed if they wanted their rear lines to be stable.

As the sun began to set, the army discovered a small city.

They swiftly eliminated the remaining imperial troops and reclaimed the town.

After calming the local residents and formulating the night watch shifts, Il-mok let out a quiet sigh.

"Sigh."

Jin Hayeon was standing nearby and looked at him.

"Is something on your mind?"

"Two more days and we reach Merv. That means another major engagement. It's been weighing on my mind a little."

Up until now, their battles had consisted only of clearing out the remnants of the imperial troops guarding various cities. Truth be told, they hadn't faced any genuinely threatening battles since their defensive siege at Andkhoy.

Jeong Hyeon and Hyeokryeon Seon-ah both responded to his concern.

"E-everyone trusts you, Grand Preceptor. I-I do too. I'm certain you'll lead us to victory."

"Indeed. Those heretics are no match for you."

Their unwavering faith made him smile, though the smile was a tired one.

"Thank you for that."

He said what was expected, but his concern still weighed on his mind.

Victory was important.

But what mattered more was keeping his people alive.

And the larger the battle grew, the harder that became.

"We move at dawn, so everyone should get some sleep. I'll be doing the same."

The women slipped quietly out of the room at his dismissal.

—You're doing well, husband. Don't be too hard on yourself.

A soft smile touched Il-mok's lips at the message his wife slipped into his mind as she walked out. He wanted nothing more than to pull his wife back into the room and fall asleep holding her, but he held back from doing so.

Just like he said, they had a grueling march waiting for them at dawn. And if they were together, neither of them would actually sleep.

Even if they didn't spend the night engaged in intimacy, simply being together would lead to them staying up late talking.

"Tsk. This damned war just needs to end already."

Grumbling to the empty room, Il-mok blew out the lamp and hit the mattress. 

Maybe it was the comfort of her parting words, but his mind felt lighter than it had all evening, and he drifted off to sleep almost instantly.

He didn’t know how long he was asleep.

Snap.

Something was wrong.

A nagging sense of eeriness forced Il-mok’s eyes wide open.

Immediately after, the sound of flesh being pierced echoed from just outside his door.

Crunch.

He threw himself out of bed and into the hallway to find Seon-ah standing there with her face spattered with blood.

"Assassins, Grand Preceptor."

At her feet lay a corpse with its heart completely pierced through.

It seemed the assassin had chosen to strike during Seon-ah's shift as his personal guard.

"Assassins? Don't tell me—?!"

In this region, there was a specific local term that replaced the Central Plains word for assassin.

As if answering his dread, shouts began erupting from across the city.

"H-Hashashin!!"

"The Brotherhood of Purity is here!!"

Panicked shouting and terrified shrieks tore through the quiet night.

"Damn."

It looked like an entire small army of assassins had slipped into the city just before dawn to pull off a mass slaughter.

Awakened by the sudden chaos, Dokgo Ryong's furious roar shattered the windows of the house next door.

"You filthy little rats dare sneak into my camp?!"

He was already out of the door and sprinting toward the noise.

Il-mok glanced over his shoulder.

Jin Hayeon and Jeong Hyeon had both woken and were standing guard behind him.

He caught their eyes, then launched himself into the street.

Slash!

Sprinting through the chaotic city streets, Il-mok swung his Ascension Sword in a relentless blur. 

He beheaded the Hashashins foolish enough to step out into the open, and fired blasts of Sword Qi into the pitch-black alleys to obliterate the ones trying to hide.

"Tch."

Il-mok clicked his tongue at the sight of the Hashashins acting without a single ounce of self-preservation.

He was in the middle of hacking apart another Hashashin when that happened.

Slash!

Slash.

Two sounds of flesh being sliced open rang out in rapid succession. 

One was the sound of the Hashashin's head leaving his shoulders.

"Kugh—"

The other was the sound of Il-mok's own side being slashed open.

Luckily, the blade hadn't gutted him completely.

His instinct screamed at him at the very last moment and forced him to twist his torso just enough to avoid a fatal blow.

The cut that should have gutted him merely sliced across his ribs instead.

He pressed his fingers to the wound to seal the blood points to staunch the bleeding.

That was when he noticed the old man.

He just stood there with no presence whatsoever to his senses. It was as if he had materialized out of thin air.

The black-clad old man appeared from nowhere and stood watching Il-mok with curious eyes.

"Well now. You actually reacted to that."