Heavenly Lord Of The Blue Turban (6)

“Is this a fragment of Grimslone?”

Azadine recoiled at the warm, fleshy texture of the wooden shard.

“Yes. Grimslone has chosen you. You are now the new Heavenly Lord of the Blue Turban Party.”

“No, I didn’t exactly receive any divine revelation or anything.”

Azadine avoided the overly emotional Jiswa and tried to focus his mind.

The wooden shard in Azadine’s hand, a part of Grimslone’s body, began to morph and coil around Azadine’s Moon Horn Bow.

‘I figured this might happen, but I didn’t think it actually would.’

Azadine was startled as Grimslone’s body swallowed the bow.

When he drew the newly formed bow, he felt a pull stronger than even the steel limbs of a heavy crossbow. It was a power no wooden bow of this size should possess.

Moreover, the bow bent so smoothly that almost all the drawn force transferred perfectly into the arrow.

“I guess I don’t need this anymore.”

Azadine set down the heavy steel bow. He now had faith that Grimslone’s bow would not break.

But Grimslone’s power didn’t end there. Azadine’s Blue Turban ritual mace glistened with the tree’s sap.

“Looks like it chose the boss. Or maybe, what—after all that resistance, sending underlings to attack us, it got captured and surrendered before it could be burned by its master? I mean, submitting willingly sounds cooler than getting overwhelmed and dominated, right?”

“It may be a god of the Nether, but even as a fragment, it wouldn’t be that easy to tame. Must’ve taken a liking to me, huh?”

Azadine packed up the Grimslone-blessed bow and mace and looked around. The hostility that had filled the jungle had vanished.

“Originally, we planned to tear it away by force, but… I can’t believe this miracle happened.”

Jiswa still sounded choked up.

“You really carry miracles with you everywhere. Guess the gods like you?”

Though Shati sounded slightly jealous, Azadine remained indifferent.

“It’s not so much that the gods like me. It’s just that the so-called believers ignore their core teachings and bully others over petty things. Maybe that’s why.”

“You bully people too, you know.”

Shati recalled Azadine’s past deeds.

“Anyway, should we go talk to the Heavenly Lord of the Blue Turban Party now? He’s in Vthuma, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s head to Vthuma.”

Azadine turned back from the black jungle of Kimalhazi—the sacred forest.

Having safely secured the fragment of Grimslone, Azadine’s group decided to return to the County of Kimalhazi to head for Vthuma.

To reach Vthuma, one had to either follow the road or travel by river or sea. Everywhere else was overgrown with grass and trees so quickly it was impassable.

Perhaps that’s why Azadine’s group soon saw an elephant and armed men standing by the road.

“That doesn’t look friendly.”

Komosal and his men were there. About twenty stood by the road, while the rest were hiding in the jungle. Scott, an expert necromancer, estimated their numbers.

“About fifty or so. What should we do, boss?”

Currently, the supply cart wasn’t being pulled by the corpse abomination, but by a massive leopard they had found in the jungle.

But charging with the leopard wouldn’t help—they were outnumbered.

Of course, Azadine wouldn’t lose to them. But he came to Vthuma to persuade them to fight the Naga, not to cause internal bloodshed.

This was a time to unite, not to weaken themselves through infighting.

“Let’s start by talking. Hey, Komosal! Good to see you, brother!”

Azadine called out, and Komosal frowned.

“Since when was I your brother?!”

“Don’t they say that those who follow the Way of Azure Sky and wrap themselves in the Blue Turban are all brothers?”

“That’s…”

The doctrine said so, but even the cult leader, the Heavenly Lord, discriminated between Vthuma natives and outsiders.

But saying “our cult leader discriminates” would sound too petty, so Komosal was at a loss. He resorted to a different excuse.

“Hey, heretic! You dare trample upon our sanctuary?”

“I had permission from the Count and Lady Gimela to take this road. So what’s the problem? And heretic? I’m a priest of the Blue Turban Party!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You, a priest? You’re a Messenger Clan rat! Even if the Count recognizes you, I won’t!”

“Is that so? This doesn’t look that way, though.”

Azadine raised the mace imbued with Grimslone’s power.

“W-What is that? You picking a fight?”

“If your eyes aren’t just wood knots, you should recognize this, no?”

“That’s…?”

“A fragment of Grimslone. The ancient tree of the swamp chose me! I didn’t force it! Just like the Heavenly Lord, I was struck by lightning and survived!”

Jiswa stepped forward and shouted, leaving everyone stunned—none more than Komosal.

“Don’t make me laugh. Lies! He’s a Messenger Clan rat!”

“To a god of the Nether, human tribes and races must be trivial distinctions. Wouldn’t it prefer someone fluent in the Nether tongue?”

“You… You insolent brat! How dare you claim to be a false prophet!”

“…You mean I pretend to be a prophet? That wording means I myself claimed to be a false one.”

“S-Shut up!”

Komosal, enraged, gestured to his men.

“Yaaaah!”

Komosal’s men charged, but Azadine hurled his mace.

It flew through the wind and slammed into the head of the lead attacker. As he raised his shield in shock, the mace spun nimbly, vaulted over the shield, and smashed into the skull of the man behind him.

He wore a helmet, so he didn’t die—but even so, the shield-bearer collapsed face-first into the dirt from that single blow.

“No?!”

And that wasn’t the end. The mace flew through the air like a living creature and was sucked right back into Azadine’s hand.

“Wow…”

Azadine marveled and threw the mace again.

He’d clearly hurled it with the force to crush a skull, yet the mace spun just enough to lose its power in midair… and struck with just enough force to knock someone out, then returned to Azadine.

“What a strange ability. Normally, that would’ve torn the upper body apart.”

“What did you say?!”

One man, thinking Azadine was joking, charged at him with a spear.

“That was probably serious.”

Shati grabbed the spear that was thrust toward Azadine. The man ignored her and continued the attack—until he realized Shati was a Naga. Even in human form, she was a massive creature weighing over twice that of an adult male. Naturally, her strength was immense.

“Huh?”

Shati brandished her curved Naga blade and disarmed the attacker.

“D-Don’t be afraid! They’re just—”

“Messenger Clan, right? Don’t tell me you guys don’t even know what that means.”

As Azadine said this and flung the mace again, it indeed knocked out opponents without killing them—striking them unconscious with precision.

And every time it was thrown, it returned to Azadine’s hand. It was no ordinary enchanted weapon.

Even more, both the mace and the bow emanated a powerful aura. It was a kind of presence that even high-ranking members of the Blue Turban Party couldn’t ignore.

“My god. That really is… the Ancient Tree of the Swamp?”

“He’s a real priest—no, the Heavenly Lord!”

The Blue Turban Party members gave up resisting and dropped their weapons, kneeling before Azadine.

“A miracle!”

“We were wrong!”

“Huh?!”

Komosal was bewildered as the members he brought with him began kneeling before Azadine.

Once a few knelt, the rest followed. Even though Komosal had brought around fifty men, it was all for nothing.

“H-He deceived us!”

“What should we do?”

The spear-wielding members turned their weapons toward Komosal.

“Seize him and make him kneel here. Don’t kill him.”

At Azadine’s command, they rushed in, beating Komosal with spear shafts and trampling him before forcing him to his knees in front of Azadine.

“Urgh…”

“Now, Komosal. You dared to drug your fellow Blue Turban brothers and drive them into a rampage?”

“I told you that wasn’t my doing—that was an order from the Heavenly Lord!”

“Didn’t you just see the mace fly? Grimslone was merciful enough not to bash your heads in. Do you really think such a merciful god would allow such cruelty?”

It wasn’t fair to judge a Nether being by this one act, of course.

Grimslone’s mace may have been non-lethal, but if shot with a bow, a person would surely die. The mace likely became non-lethal simply because a non-lethal weapon was needed.

Yet Azadine spoke with deliberate gravity about Grimslone’s mercy, and then rebuked Komosal’s actions.

Even though these Blue Turban members had once preyed on the weak, they were moved to tears as Azadine scolded Komosal in a righteous tone.

‘Maybe it’s because so many here have recovered from fatal illnesses… but their loyalty to this religion is astounding. If I can establish myself here, it’ll help when fighting the invading Naga. But dragging them straight to Vthuma might be too dangerous.’

Bringing a large force to the capital would certainly raise suspicions with the king.

So Azadine wrote a letter.

“There will be great tribulation within two weeks. When the Naga army strikes Vthuma, gather these supplies and this number of troops. Mark this sigil on your banner, beat the drums, and come through the eastern gate of Vthuma Fortress.”

Azadine handed them the letter as if it were a prophecy, then helped Komosal back to his feet.

“If you defy this order, Komosal, you will surely be killed, and your soul will wander the frozen wastelands of the Wendigo for all eternity.”

“…Uh.”

Komosal suddenly felt a chill crawling through his body and shivered in terror.

In truth, Azadine had flicked the Wendigo dagger as he spoke of the frozen wastelands, subtly releasing its magic toward Komosal.

The icy aura and presence of the Wendigo amplified Azadine’s words, making them feel like a true vision of a frozen hell.

“Well then.”

Azadine, just in case, left a letter with the Blue Turban members of Kimalhazi and set out on the journey to Vthuma.

‘If Komosal was this aggressive, persuading the Heavenly Lord won’t be easy either. But if he too was struck by lightning like me… we might share a lot of techniques.’

Azadine steeled himself—if persuasion failed, he was ready to seize the position of Heavenly Lord for himself.