Heavenly Lord Of The Blue Turban (4)

“I also have some respect for the captain…”

Scott said this to Azadine, who had casually dismissed the greed shown by Gimela and the count regarding him.

“Disappointed?”

“No, impressed. A man who can ruthlessly sacrifice his subordinates for his own goals—someone like that is worthy of being my captain. And calling it a sacrifice is overstating it—just some intense muscle harvesting, really.”

“Is that so?”

Among orcs, who valued intelligence above all, it was considered wiser to sell a subordinate at a reasonable price than to cling to them sentimentally.

“But still, I won’t go through with it. I hate muscle harvesting. Also, from an orc’s point of view, getting involved with another race is… disgraceful. The moment you do, you’re ostracized by your entire race. They’ll say, ‘How stupid, untalented, and unappealing do you have to be to get with another species?’”

“I see.”

Meanwhile, Shati shuddered.

“What’s with you now?”

“You know that man who walks around with that bell and is the count’s lover?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s a Naga.”

“Really?”

“Nagas have to go at it 24 hours straight just to maybe have a child… And he’s got a Naga lover?”

“……”

It was easy to picture the Count of Kimalhazi entangled with his Naga lovers for 24 hours nonstop.

Was it tremendous stamina or overwhelming lust?

“Anyway, I saw quite a few Nagas while moving around. This really is Vthuma, huh.”

“So you’re saying…”

“If the Nagas really start attacking Vthuma, we’ll be screwed. But the count seems full of confidence and won’t listen to reason. Let’s just raid that Blue Turban Party sanctuary or whatever it is.”

“Sigh. So this is the conclusion. I really hate it. Why can’t anyone just understand words?”

“You’re the one going through hell alone because you couldn’t convince your clan. That’s just how it is.”

“When convincing people, you need a knife to their throat. Everyone thinks they’re smart—words alone won’t work.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Azadine rested at the lodging Gimela had prepared in the Count of Kimalhazi’s mansion.

Still harboring desire, Gimela tried to seduce Scott, but Scott, who disliked muscle growth, firmly rejected her.

“After that blunt rejection, what if she laced the food with poison out of spite?”

Azadine said this while watching Scott eat the food Gimela had prepared without a care.

“It’s fine, Captain. Whether it’s poisoned or not, I can detect it with simple magic.”

Scott said this and kept eating.

Since rice and beans were staple crops in Vthuma, the food was a mix of rice and beans with various spices.

To Azadine, who hailed from the north, it was exotic and strange—but surprisingly edible.

“Actually, it’s pretty good. No gamey or foul taste in the meat. The spices are so strong, they mask any bad smell.”

“And it’s surprisingly good for building muscle. Not that it’s good for me, though.”

Even as he said that, Scott licked his bowl clean.

The next day, Azadine’s party prepared to depart.

Jiswa donned chainmail and armed himself with a long club tipped with a metallic bird’s beak—a beak mace.

Shati chose a Naga curved sword and Naga chain-face armor, even wearing a veil of chainmail over her face—clearly dressed like a Naga.

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of disguising yourself as a human?”

“I’ll transform back into a Naga when it’s time to fight.”

“Well, Scott is just being Scott.”

“Let’s go, Captain.”

“Hold on a moment…”

Azadine asked the Count of Kimalhazi’s servants about news from Korasar.

If the Count really intended to invade the Korasar Kingdom, he would be highly alert for any updates from there. As expected, their information was fast and accurate.

“This is fresh information from last night. The King’s Church dispatched forces to rescue the Korasar Kingdom, seized by the Messenger Clan, but the bishop was captured and the holy knights were defeated.”

“If this continues, the King’s Church will officially declare a subjugation order against Vthuma. When that happens, we might establish a Vthuma–Korasar United Kingdom.”

It seemed swallowing Korasar had been a long-held dream—they didn’t hesitate to mention a “united kingdom.”

According to the teachings of the King’s Church, which recorded the Emperor’s conquest of the Eight Kingdoms as a horrific history, even the term “united kingdom” reeked of imperialism—blasphemous and ominous.

But the ambitions of the Vthumans had already surpassed what the Church could contain. Even the Church might allow a united kingdom with Vthuma rather than lose a piece of the Eight Kingdoms to the Messenger Clan.

“What about Ject the Arbiter?”

When Azadine asked about Ject, the servants answered.

“Apparently, that Arbiter Ject was defeated on the Korasar front and has vanished. We are closely monitoring all holy knights in case he tries to infiltrate Vthuma.”

“I see.”

Azadine was both surprised and relieved to hear Ject had been defeated.

That horrific presence he’d felt upon seeing Ject wasn’t ordinary, but it seemed he still couldn’t match Aldis, who had claimed the throne.

‘Still, it’s a complicated feeling. I’m someone who opposes the Senate for treating human lives lightly and allying with Nagas or other Kurt God Clans, yet I also hope the Aragasa won’t lose.’

To Azadine, the Senate was a potential enemy, but that didn’t mean he wished them to be easily defeated.

Perhaps it was because Azadine himself was an Aragasa. His feelings were complex.

“Then the Lady sends her wishes for your good fortune. This is a gift from her.”

Claiming it was from Gimela, the servants handed Azadine a pouch full of gold coins.

“This is too much…”

Azadine was impressed by Gimela’s generosity. There were five gold coins—far too generous a gift for someone who had just visited.

Given that he had been financially drained by bringing refugees, he gratefully accepted the gold.

Each time Scott’s Corpse Abomination took a step, the surrounding scenery zipped past. Azadine’s mountain goat was drenched in sweat trying to keep up with the abomination.

In the hot and humid region of Vthuma, Kerim the goat was on the brink of collapse, so Azadine loaded it onto the abomination’s cart.

“We’ll be arriving soon,”

Jiswa said as he led the way.

“You said ‘soon’ earlier too. Thanks to that, my goat’s collapsed.”

“How about shaving off its fur?”

“Kerim goats aren’t like sheep. If you shear them too close, their fur might not grow back.”

“Really? Still, wouldn’t it be better to shave it in this hot climate?”

“The fat in Kerim goat fur is a valuable anti-rust oil for the Messenger Clan… I guess I’ll just trim its leg fur for now.”

At that moment, the Corpse Abomination came to a halt.

“Oh no,”

Scott groaned.

“Looks like we’re near the sanctuary. The undead doesn’t want to go any further.”

“The undead is refusing to enter?”

“Yeah. There’s a limit to autonomous control. From here on, I’ll have to manually operate it.”

Scott frowned.

Manually controlling the Corpse Abomination to proceed down a narrow forest trail wasn’t ideal—too cramped for a massive creature.

“This won’t work. I’ll have to disassemble it.”

“Disassemble it?”

“Well, that’s how necromancy works. No matter how well you preserve a corpse, it rots if left alone, and wears down if used. Necromancers constantly have to create new masterpieces.”

Scott spoke as if necromancy were merely a craft. He then began disassembling the Corpse Abomination and reassembling it into smaller undead units.

“Ugh.”

Azadine turned his gaze away from the grotesque scene.

Good thing Zebec wasn’t here—otherwise, he’d be struggling to suppress the urge to slit Scott’s throat.

“Anyway, Jiswa. If the undead refuses to enter, then we must be close to the sanctuary, right?”

“Yes. We’re almost there. From this point on, even pilgrims are not allowed entry.”

Jiswa climbed down from the cart and pointed to a rope strung between the trees.

“Beyond this golden rope is the sanctuary.”

“Alright, then I need to prepare as well.”

Azadine took out a copy of the Heavenly King’s Book of Truth and drew in white mana, distributing the energy evenly throughout his body.

Before, a single page’s worth was sufficient, but now he could absorb the mana from two or three pages at once.

After taking in the white mana, a shock coursed through him like a storm rampaging inside his body.

“Ugh…”

Azadine wiped his nose.

Nosebleed.

But at the same time, power surged violently through his body.

“Captain, how about erasing the Kazas Grimoire and learning magic anew? You’re definitely getting stronger, but…”

Scott seriously suggested Azadine switch paths after observing his condition.

But asking a Messenger like Azadine to erase Flowers, Birds, Wind, Moon, the spellbook of the Messenger Clan, was unthinkable.

More than that, it would mean losing all the power he’d accumulated so far.

“I can’t do that now.”

With the Messenger Clan’s schemes threatening countless civilians in Korasar, Vthuma, and other lands, Azadine didn’t have the luxury to start over from scratch.

Azadine stepped into the sanctuary of the Blue Turban Party.

The founder of the Blue Turban Party—known as the Heavenly Lord—was said to be a traveling merchant who entered this black forest to escape bandits and heavy taxes. There, he encountered a Nether being known as the Withered Tree of the Swamp, Grimslone.

To be precise, he encountered only a fragment of Grimslone’s body. This was because Grimslone had once been repelled from the mortal world by the three Archangels served by the Rescue Knights Order.

In other words, after the angels defeated Grimslone, a piece of its body fell here. The Heavenly Lord, unaware of what it was, set up camp on the stump and was struck by a sudden bolt of lightning, teetering on the verge of death.

At that moment, he unknowingly drank Grimslone’s sap and blood and is said to have attained enlightenment.

“Anyone would call that a cult, right? Hearing that, you still found faith, Jiswa?”

“Yes. Because I had already been saved by drinking Grimslone’s sap.”

“Well, if you’d already drunk the sap…”

“Better than dying of malaria. That’s why the Heavenly Lord tried to transport fragments of Grimslone to obtain sap regularly…”

“But failed?”

“Yes. Every monster in the black forest attacked, I heard.”

“I see.”

As Azadine’s group entered the forest, a wolf’s howl rang out from somewhere.

Though it was still broad daylight, the sound echoed eerily. The rustling in the bushes sounded like people whispering and laughing.

The noises surrounded them from all sides, jeering and mocking.