Who threatened Cheonma Hara with a knife - Chapter 209



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Who threatened to call me Cheonmahara with a knife? Episode 209

Hero (2)

Late at night.

To report on the progress of the educational reform, Wei Jin-hak left Gyomagak and headed to Cheonma Hall.

“Meet the master of Manma.”

When Wei Jin-hak showed his utmost respect to his teacher, Cheon-ma nodded with a pleased smile on his face.

“Heh heh heh. Just get up.”

Wi Jin-hak noticed that although he was already a kind teacher to his followers, he was especially gentle today and asked.

“Do you have any good news, Master?”

“A letter has arrived from the youngest.”

“From the youngest priest?”

Although he had only heard that he was the youngest, a pleased smile appeared on Wei Jin-hak’s lips.

“Hahaha. I really wonder what kind of great things our clever youngest will accomplish next, Master.”

“Hahaha. That’s what you’re talking about. I was also really surprised after reading the letter.”

While the two priests were laughing happily.

‘What kind of aftershock will the youngest prince bring again…?’

Only Eunwigakju was hiding his worries while pretending to be expressionless.

Those two are in a position to direct work, so they must be clever in bringing about various changes.

From the perspective of the one being served, the youngest prince’s snout was the cause of disaster.

Although the situation at Gyomagak was the most serious, other places were also suffering from the sparks that had been lit by Ilmok.

Starting with the Black Ghost Group, which suddenly changed its name to Dohwa-ryeong and ended up living there to take care of the elderly with dementia, and several armed groups that constantly travel back and forth between the school and their hometown to provide for the children.

Some of the armed forces were absent from the area to guard children and manage Xinjiang, so the remaining armed forces were short on manpower and had to patrol without rest.

In addition, there are the An clan and the Bagua shamans who wander around Xinjiang all day long, exploring water veins for work such as the Xinjiang Green Development Project.

In addition, other organizations that had lost manpower due to work-related issues such as the Gyomagak or the Armed Forces were also struggling to survive.

Fortunately, Eunwigak was close to Cheonma’s direct personal guard, so he didn’t have to worry about anything.

In the past, there were people who secretly looked down on Eunwigak, saying that it was just a chore, but these days, they were desperate to enter Eunwigak.

And today, the letter sent by the mastermind behind all these disasters reached Cheonma’s hands.

“Hehehe. The youngest is said to be promoting a new religion under the fake name of ‘Mireukmyeonggyo’ in Goranghyeon and recruiting new believers.”

“Are you talking about a fake name?”

Wi Jin-hak, who had been smiling gently, asked back in a somewhat timid tone.

“No matter how smart the youngest is, he hides the name of the great religion. I think this is not the right thing to do, Master.”

In response to Wei Jin-hak’s advice, Cheon-ma told him what was written in the letter.

“When you first encounter unfamiliar foreign food, it’s natural for anyone to be reluctant to eat it. So, Ilmok plans to dress it up to look like food familiar to the people of the Central Plains, so that they can adapt to our doctrine.”

It was the so-called ‘food theory’ that Ilmok talked about while trying to persuade Dambin and Jin Hayeon.

In addition, he also revealed the methods that Ilmok used for missionary work.

He even used a method that combined ‘Do you know the way?’ and the beautifying technique, and even punished evildoers to save sentient beings.

“Master. Shouldn’t we spread the youngest’s missionary methods to the other Central Plains clans as well?”

When Wi Jin-hak said this, greatly moved by the unexpected method of missionary work, Cheon-ma also nodded with a satisfied expression.

“I plan to do so. However, there is an order to things. The youngest is trying to take control of Gansu Province first, starting with Nanju, so it seems like we should send additional personnel there first.”

“Are you already targeting Nanju, the capital of Gansu Province? As expected of a youngest sibling.”

The two were smiling with anticipation about how the youngest would take over Nanju and how he would carry out his missionary work.

* * *

A few days later.

Dozens of secretly selected Tianma Cult members began to move across Xinjiang toward Gansu Province.

The fact that Ilmok was active in Gansu Province was a top secret known only to Cheonma, his disciples, the Silver Guardian, and a few other key figures.

Within the Shinto sect, it was simply known that Ichimoku had left the headquarters on a special mission and was heading somewhere.

It was natural if it was obvious. Just as the Cheonmasingyo gathered information from the Central Plains through the branches they had planted there, they had to keep in mind that the Central Plains were also gathering their own information.

And as Cheonma had expected, the cultists planted by the Murim Alliance were active all over Xinjiang.

Among them, as always, there are those who simply quietly observe the movements of the Cheonmasin Church.

“It seems like everyone’s expressions have brightened up these days.”

There were some who moved a little more actively.

“Oh my. Isn’t this all thanks to Prince Pal?”

As the middle-aged man spoke with a bright smile, the Murim Alliance’s Sejak, who had spoken to him, asked while controlling his expression.

“What are you talking about? Hahaha. Hasn’t the eight princes done so many things?”

“A well was built in the village, so we no longer have to worry about dying of thirst, and the children are even learning to read and write. Could we be happier than this? Hahaha.”

“He is truly a wonderful person, but it is truly regrettable that I have never seen his face.”

“Oh. That’s too bad. I’ve only seen you from afar.”

At the middle-aged man’s answer, the eyes of the Murim Alliance’s Sejak sparkled for a moment.

A small number of Murim Alliance members are actively taking action. They are the ones who received special orders from Biryonggakju.

These are people who have been given the special task of gathering as much information about the eight princes as they can.

“By the way, can you tell me what Prince Pal looks like? We may meet later, but wouldn’t it be nice to know his face so that I can express my gratitude right away?”

“Hahaha. If that’s the reason, then I guess I can tell you.”

Conversations like this were going around in various places in Xinjiang, and by compiling the information gathered in this way, the scholars succeeded in drawing up the accounts of the eight Confuciuses’ appearances.

The three artists looked at the completed Yongmo Pagi with serious expressions on their faces.

“His mouth is generous and he always has a hearty and refreshing smile on his face, his skin is like white jade, his chin is sharp like a blade, his nose is as high as Mt. Tai. And above all, his eyes are full of determination and have the aura of a hero, and they are eyes that naturally overwhelm his son-in-law.”

If I were to describe in words the face they had completed, it would look something like this.

If someone who knew the original version of Ichimoku had seen that Yongmo-daegi, he would have made a subtle expression.

If I were to describe it at a glance, it would be, to put it nicely, an indifferent gaze, and to put it badly, a dull gaze that was tired of life and had become annoyed by everything. It was the so-called rotten, fishy gaze.

The chin was also ‘kind of’ sharp, but not blade-like as depicted in the portrait, and the nose was also relatively high, but not like a mountain.

Also, he wasn’t the type to laugh heartily in the first place, so the corners of his mouth were subtly different.

The eyes, nose, mouth, and shape of the face. Everything was similar to Yongmo-pa-gi’s, but slightly different.

All of those things were slightly different, so when you put them together and compare them, they were almost like different people.

If we were to compare Ichimoku’s face, he had the appearance of a rather handsome man.

However, thanks to his rotten, fishy eyes that make everything look annoying, he looks more like a handsome neighborhood punk than a hero.

The reason why such a huge error occurred was very simple.

Humans naturally see what they want to see.

Those who have actually seen the face of Ichimoku have distorted their memories.

I was so moved by Ilmok’s great achievements that I looked at him with amazement.

‘There’s no way our 8th prince would look like this!’

‘Of course! The eyes of the Confucius sparkle with fire!’

It was an opportunity to capture the spirit of a hero and a gun that had never existed before in Ichimoku’s eyes.

In addition, rumors tend to grow in size proportional to the number of people who pass through them.

Because the achievements of the Eight Confuciuses were so abundant, stories about them were constantly reproduced and expanded within Xinjiang.

“He seems to be a great hero and a peerless handsome man.”

Before he knew it, rumors had spread that Ilmok had a face that even a physiognomist would unconsciously bow to and exclaim, “Here is the face of a destined emperor!”

“Is there really such a face in the world?”

Of course, because it was such an absurd story, even the writers were initially skeptical.

“Isn’t everyone talking like this? If it’s just one or two, it’s probably the same no matter where you get the information in Xinjiang. Even if it’s not exactly the same, it’ll be a similar face.”

Since everyone said so, the three writers had no choice but to believe it.

“Huh. The moment we meet, you are a face I can’t help but recognize.”

“The prince of the trashy Demonic Cult has this kind of face.”

Just walking down the street, he had a face so huge that women would line up, and the eyes of the men were filled with jealousy and anger.

“If that devil has this kind of face, he must be a pervert!”

“Before the women get hurt by this guy, we must quickly tell the Lord about this guy.”

“Yes! If I tell the Lord, he will definitely take action!”

These were three works that burned with a strange sense of mission.

* * *

A few days later.

A small estate located somewhere in Nanzhou, Gansu Province.

A man born with the greatest heroic achievements of his time in the world woke up from his slumber.

“Whoaaah.”

Ho-geol woke up with a yawn and stretched his upper body.

And still, he was sitting in bed with only his upper body raised, his eyes blank and dull.

‘Should I just sleep better?’

Ilmok was lost in thought, like a bum, matching his eyes.

It has been a little over twenty days since the meeting where the leaders of the Open Society held a Q&A session.

There wasn’t much work for Ilmok.

To be exact, there were a lot of miscellaneous tasks, but they were taken care of by others. There was just nothing that required me to step forward.

After giving work and wages to the beggars and a few days passed, other beggars who had initially refused began to come to the Mireukmyungyo one by one.

And now, twenty days later, most of the beggars of Nanju were doing construction work in the Nancheonhoe estate.

The beggars who had not yet come to the Maitreya teachings were either the Open Way or the beggars who were physically disabled and could not do physical work.

Anyway, it was only a few days ago that I heard that the construction speed had been greatly accelerated thanks to the addition of beggars.

Since the common beggars who used to come to ask for information along with begging have all disappeared, it has become quite difficult for the Open Doors to obtain information in Nanju.

In addition, Haomen also seemed to be cautious, as if he was not taking Ichimoku’s warning lightly.

‘Well, there’s no way to stop rumors from spreading among the people of Nanju, so let’s move on from this.’

Since we held meetings once every ten days, it was inevitable that rumors would spread little by little.

And thanks to that rumor, the number of participants in each meeting kept increasing.

Naturally, it would become more and more difficult to manage, but Ichimoku showed no sign of caring at all.

‘It’s almost time to come. I’ll be busy by then, so I should get some rest today.’

The moment I was about to lay my head back on the bed with some appropriate self-rationalization, a voice was heard from outside the door.

“Have you coughed, Your Majesty?”

“Confucius. People have come from the headquarters.”

Ichimoku let out a deep sigh as he realized that today was that day.

“All the good days are gone.”

Ichimoku, who got out of bed with a very annoyed expression on his face, yawned again and began to collect his thoughts.

I was worried about how to use those who came over from the headquarters, but it wasn’t a very deep worry.

I had already planned out the big picture in my head.

He had to quickly hand over the work to them so that he could find peace again.

“Let only the representatives come in.”

After a brief instruction, the door opened and several people entered the hall.

Ichimoku found a familiar face among them and let out a sigh without realizing it.

“I am so happy to see you again, Your Majesty!”

A man entered the hall holding ink, a brush, and paper as if they were one body.

‘Ha. Why do the number of crazy people keep increasing?’

He was none other than Congressman Seo Jae-pil.