Dragon Heart: Iron Will. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 2 Page 28

  “Don’t touch it!” the scholar shouted quickly, before she could move.

  He took a bowl and poured its contents over the puddle. There was a loud clap and liquid soaked into the floor, leaving cracks and black stains on it.

  All three of them let out a long sigh of relief.

  “What's happening?” a soft, faint voice asked.

  Nero blinked twice and looked down at his blackened veins. However, even as he was doing so, they slowly began to return to a healthy, blue hue.

  “Idiot.” Serra sobbed. “Moron. Barbarian. You clueless dork.”

  She hugged him, and the wounded man, groaning in pain, hugged her back as he buried his face in her thick, black hair.

  Hadjar, glancing at the healer, took a few steps back and pushed the screen back into position around the pair. The General would have time to talk to his friend later. He didn’t want to interfere with the lovers’ reunion.

  The scholar, wiping the sweat from his forehead, was going to bury the dirty knife and bowl as deep as possible to prevent the infection from spreading and destroying the entire camp.

  Nodding to each other, they went about their business.

  Once he was outside in the fresh air again, Hadjar sighed in relief and sat down on a large, flat stone. He tried to both calm the trembling of his hands and stop smiling like a fool. He couldn't do either of those things.

  For the first time in his life, his strength had really come in handy. He had finally been able to save someone with its help. And that was the most important thing to him.

  “Judging by your expression, General, your mission was successful.”

  Hadjar looked up. The old librarian stood before him, his hands clasped together. His smirk, though, didn’t promise anything good for the General.

  Chapter 126

  The Heaven Soldier looked like the cat that got the canary: happy, positively glowing with joy, and with a slightly shady look on his face. Hadjar suspected that the Darnassus Empire must’ve fully placed the responsibility for the success or failure of this operation on the librarian.

  It was a nasty, shitty feeling when you discovered that you were being used.

  The Empire had decided to start a war between the two states for the sole purpose of having a chance to find the entrance to the tomb. One small, vague chance had been enough of a reason to condemn millions of people to death.

  “I found the tomb.”

  “Then I’ll happily take the legacy.” The librarian extended his hand. “Be careful, General. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  Hadjar only smiled. Even the gods couldn’t even begin to imagine the pleasure he felt at that moment.

  “Alas!” He threw up his hands. “All I can give you is the map showing its location.”

  He handed the General a scroll on which, in addition to the red circle, a red X had been marked. That’s how Hadjar had marked the entrance to the tomb.

  “What is the meaning of this, General?” The cultivator’s voice hardened as all the joy vanished from his expression.

  “It means I didn’t receive the legacy.”

  Hadjar pondered the ambiguity of this phrase for some time. The librarian, despite the fact that they weren’t alone, and there were plenty of soldiers around them who were busy with their own tasks, let all his pent-up energy out.

  His true cultivator’s aura was so powerful that some of the nearby warriors clutched their chests and fell to their knees. Those who were stronger simply froze in place.

  Previously, this energy might not have been enough to incapacitate him, but it would’ve certainly made him take up a weapon. Now, however, Hadjar sat quietly on the stone and filled his pipe with tobacco. The strength of the cultivator pressed against his shoulders, but no more than the weight of the six logs with which he’d been running every morning.

  “Don’t play games with me, General,” the librarian whispered. “I’ll leave nothing behind but the memory of your army!”

  Hadjar sighed and shook his head.

  “You know, honorable adept, I’m sick and tired of all these stories about all-powerful Heaven Soldiers.” He took his pipe and struck a spark with a piece of flint. The flavored tobacco intoxicated him slightly, but it also served to calm his nerves.

  “Maybe I won’t kill you on my own, but you probably don’t have the ability to kill me, either. There’s about a couple of hundred soldiers at the level of ‘One with the World’ in this camp. They’ve already sensed your aura. You’d better get back to pretending that you’re nothing more than a good-natured grandfather before they locate you.”

  The cultivator gritted his teeth, but the pressure disappeared in an instant, and the nearby soldiers got up from the ground. Looking at each other, they hurried to get away from the pair. Once they were far enough away, they put their hands on their swords, and some of them ran to fetch officers.

  “The legacy,” the librarian hissed. “Now!”

  “Your Imperial problem is that you don’t believe a word I’ve said.”

  Hadjar took out his knife and slashed it across his palm. Crimson drops fell and Hadjar said passionately: “I don’t have the legacy. I chose the Flower over it, in order to save my friend. The shadow of the ancient cultivator wouldn’t let me into the Treasury because of the choice I made.”

  Hadjar’s blood glowed more brightly with each word, before catching fire after those final words; the cut immediately healed. He’d made an unbreakable blood oath, and if a single word that he’d uttered had been untrue, he would’ve immediately been burned from within.

  Hadjar had seen it happen once before. It wasn’t the most pleasant sight, watching a man turn to ashes, set ablaze from the inside right before your eyes. Not everyone was able to stand it. The dying man’s cries would haunt the people who witnessed such a thing in their most terrible nightmares for a long time afterward.

  Practitioners and cultivators alike would never dare make such vows lightly. The universe was ready to punish anyone who dared to lie using such a method.

  “We had a deal, General!”

  “Yes, we did.” Hadjar nodded. “But there was nothing in our agreement that said I had to deliver the legacy to you.”

  The librarian tilted his head to the side, and, narrowing his eyes, he squinted up at him. For a while, they just stared at each other, neither wishing to look away first.

  Hadjar lost.

  While he was sure that he could survive a battle with the old man, that didn’t mean he was going to start one.

  “You are too good at playing court games for someone who came from a mountain village, General.”

  “I’m a fast learner,” Hadjar replied, exhaling a cloud of thick smoke.

  “I noticed.” The cultivator nodded. “I remember our first meeting. You were the only person who ever refused to let me test their potential and pick the appropriate Technique.”

  Hadjar looked at the cultivator, or rather, he paid attention to the suspicion in his eyes.

  He didn’t want the Heaven Soldier to bore him with his doubts, in addition to all the other problems he faced, even if the old man was just a Heaven Soldier who’d been unable to advance beyond the initial stage.

  The old man must’ve almost felt like a god here in Lidus. He was quite an important man back home in the Empire as well, of course. But what was a Heaven Soldier really doing in Darnassus? Was he nothing more than a pawn moving forward a square?

  “What can I say? I don’t like old people touching me.”

  “Because of a childhood trauma, perhaps? I hear certain things happen to children in those mountain villages.”

  “Venerable adept, I respect you despite what’s happened. Please don’t disappoint me with your misplaced attempts to piss me off.”

  The cultivator only snorted again and folded his hands behind his back.

  When Helion, Lian, Tuur, and the silent spymaster approached Hadjar and the librarian, the Heaven Soldier was back to looking like a good-nature
d grandfather again.

  “I’m glad you’re back safe and sound, General.” The librarian smiled broadly, hamming it up for their audience. “And I’m glad you chose me to test your increased strength. I hope my aura hasn’t hurt you.”

  “Don’t worry, venerable adept.” Hadjar nodded and bowed. “It’s not that big of a deal to me now.”

  The old man smiled once more, but the desire to break Hadjar's neck was clearly visible in the depths of his eyes.

  Well, let him try. Many songs will be sung about our battle.

  There was a time when Hadjar had been terrified of true cultivators. Not anymore.

  “Taking into account that I always keep my word...” Hadjar took another scroll from his pocket. “I brought you all the information about the tomb that I could get to thank you for helping me save Commander Nero. Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I’m at war.”

  Hadjar emptied his pipe and shook hands with the stunned librarian before following his senior officers back outside.

  He didn’t need to turn around to feel the surprise of the librarian. He definitely hadn’t expected to receive such information. Hadjar hadn’t wanted to give it to him, but his honor had demanded it.

  All that Hadjar had was his sword, his word, and his honor. They were important to him, and he couldn't ignore them.

  Many young boys and girls who devoted themselves to the path of cultivation were sure that honor was something romantic and very difficult to grasp. But, as Hadjar had found out, honor was a very simple and straightforward concept. It was what allowed a person to both respect and like themselves.

  If Hadjar had left the Heaven Soldier empty-handed after the librarian had indirectly saved Nero…

  No. That wouldn’t do. Neither Hadjar Duran nor, especially, Hadjar Traves, would ever do that.

  “We’re glad to have you back, General.” Tuur removed the medallion from around his neck and returned it to Hadjar. “As always, you’ve appeared right on time.”

  “Have any new problems popped up?”

  “The exact opposite, actually,” Helion, who was constantly adjusting his eyepatch, said. “Very old and very far-fetched, but very frightening problems all the same.”

  Already forgetting about the old man and the tomb, Hadjar cursed mentally. The day he no longer had to deal with all these issues constantly plaguing him would probably be his last day in this world.

  Chapter 127

  Upon entering his tent, he smiled at the grumpy Azrea snorting in his direction. The white kitten sat on the map lying on the table, fanning herself with her tail as she rested.

  She looked like a disgruntled animal, which was precisely what she was.

  When the General reached out to pet his kitten, she resentfully bit his finger as hard as she could. Then Azrea mewed smugly and almost held out her paw. After receiving a piece of dried meat, she jumped down off the table and then onto the bed in one leap, where she disappeared among the animal skins and sheets.

  Moving on, Hadjar found he was already quite used to the General’s tent—the never-ending piles of papers on the chests, the hustle and bustle, and the myriad of urgent tasks he had to deal with. If only he’d taken care of it all earlier, he would’ve now had some free time to train.

  Hadjar touched the Moon Spear gently. He understood his predecessor, Leen, better now—how difficult it must’ve been to make decisions, to carry that burden on her seemingly fragile shoulders.

  “What’s this urgent news? Hadjar asked, sitting at the head of the table.

  The commanders, as a whole—with the exception of Nero—sat in their usual seats in front of him. Simon also attended the military councils now. He had proven not only his resourcefulness and love of excessive comfort, but also his great usefulness. In any case, after he’d begun managing the resources of the army, it had started climbing out of the abyss into which the war against the nomads had plunged it.

  “The Chief of the Council of Villages came to us,” Helion started.

  The cavalryman, instead of his usual leather half-armor, was dressed in a fur coat made from a polar bear. It was much warmer under the dome than outside, but it was still rather cold. In the world outside the dome, even the air was freezing.

  Hadjar saw blocks of ice falling out of the air among the remote mountain peaks with his own eyes. In places like that, there were no animals, no birds, and no sounds of life. Thank all the gods that the entrance to the tomb hadn’t been near one of those anomalies.

  Who knew if the General would’ve been able to survive the trip to save the commander of the Bear squad if that had been the case?

  “He’s some kind of local governor,” Lergon explained.

  “What do you mean by that?” Hadjar asked.

  He needed to have a better understanding of the Chief’s position and power.

  “There are about one hundred villages under the mountains.” Lergon picked up a pointer. “They are at an equal distance from each other, and they constantly face a variety of problems—from spring floods and mudflows to attacks from ‘The Black Gate’ sect’s disciples.”

  Lergon circled different regions with his pointer, and Hadjar tried to figure out in advance how and why this person had come to see them. Taking into account the weather, not a single disciple would be coming out from the pavilions any time soon.

  Masters and teachers of the sect were unlikely to spend their time intimidating the common folk.

  “They wanted to be able to resist all of this somehow; they united in a kind of commune. The Council comprising of hundreds of the most respected people governs it, and, in turn, the Chief is at the head of that Council.”

  Hadjar nodded and steepled his fingers.

  “Did they come to complain about Simon ripping them off?”

  “I’ve done no such thing!” The plump purchasing officer immediately protested. “I run an honest business! And if someone is unhappy with it, it’s not my problem, but theirs!”

  Hadjar wouldn’t have hired a guy like that at any other time, but... he’d had no choice. Either the army would be left without clothes and armor, or they would allow Simon to handle some of their affairs.

  Hadjar was responsible for the lives of several million people, so he would just have to allow Simon some small liberties along the way for their sake.

  “Why did he come here, then?”

  No one answered. Everybody, even the red-haired Lian, looked down at their feet, afraid to answer—just like students afraid of sounding dumb in front of their classmates and teacher.

  “He asked us for help.”

  “What?”

  “Well...” Helion said slowly, scratching his head. “I don’t know how else to say it, General.”

  “Tell me the truth...don’t keep me in suspense.”

  Lian was the bravest warrior, it turned out, or the bravest archer, to be more precise.

  “He told us about an invasion of monsters,” she said and then immediately looked down.

  The commanders weren’t sure what they’d expected to hear when the Chief had arrived—maybe a request to deal with a problem, but not these old legends. Monster invasions were often mentioned in children's horror stories and fairytales.

  A whole horde of monsters descending on the northern valleys, located behind the Black Mountains, was something that happened once every ten thousand years.

  No one knew why the monsters would be gathering. But all of them were running toward the south, sweeping away everything in their path. And Balium was south of them.

  Hadjar, to everyone else’s surprise, wasn’t at all shocked.

  “When was this?”

  “Three days ago,” Helion answered. “He came with his giant of a son. At first, I thought it was Dogar reborn, may the forefathers be proud of him.”

  “Three days ago,” Hadjar repeated as he pondered.

  Such news wasn’t foolish or unreasonable in his opinion. He had often heard mentions of such events in the stories of t
he Shadow of the Immortal and in the scrolls of the sect. There was nothing mystical about them. Any creature that reached a high enough stage of cultivation would emerge among the animals’ ranks sooner or later. Then it would set about trying to get rid of the previous ruler at the top of the food chain.

  Mountains shook and tsunamis appeared in lakes because of the battles that ensued. Naturally, ‘simple’ animals didn’t want to become collateral damage in a fight between these much stronger beasts, and so they ran toward the south or somewhere, anywhere else.

  However, the Black Mountains ended in a peninsula surrounded by seas on all sides.

  So, south was the only direction a horde of frightened beasts could escape toward, all of them driven by a sense of self-preservation. And, unfortunately, the Moon Army was in their way at that very moment, not just Balium and the villages.

  “How concerned did the Chief look?”

  “Concerned? He was extremely frightened.” Lian, recalling the old man's appearance, still hoped that he was just a good actor. “He was literally shaking all over, and he nearly fell out of his chair more than once.”

  “And what about his son?”

  The son looked skeptical, but strong,” Tuur explained. “He said that either a witch or a scholar had warned them about the invasion. The inhabitants of these small villages don’t distinguish between such titles.”

  “No one believes her, except for the chiefs,” Lian continued. “The last time such an invasion happened was no less than seventy thousand years ago.”

  “It might be a ploy of the sect,” the chief of intelligence warned.

  Hadjar sighed and massaged his temples. If not for his trip to the tomb, he'd have probably thought so, too. But then he’d seen a gigantic bird in the sky during his search for the tomb’s entrance. It had flown to the north, from where a horde of monsters would soon be arriving, according to this witch.