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

by Kirill Klevanski

  “How can we contact him?”

  “Who?” Helion asked again.

  “Forefathers... the Chief!” Hadjar shouted.

  The commanders looked at each other.

  “General, you think…”

  “I think that our main problem won’t be the sectarians this winter.” The tent became deathly quiet, and all of them turned pale at once.

  Chapter 128

  The commanders left the tent, leaving Hadjar alone with his thoughts and the now sleeping Azrea. Looking at the kitten, Hadjar decided to forget his troubles for a while, choosing instead to lie down on the skins. Wrapped in them, he waited until the half-asleep kitten crawled up onto his side and curled up. She usually did that whenever she could.

  When Hadjar was not in the tent, she slept on the skins. But when the General was nearby, she would immediately choose him as her new bed. He fell asleep quickly, a warm veil of silence enveloping his mind.

  After sleeping for a few hours, Hadjar awoke during the most difficult period for the guards—between three and four hours after midnight. It was called Groundhog hour. A time when even the most responsible watchman could fall asleep for a few minutes, or even a quarter of an hour. This, Hadjar assumed, was due to the peculiarities of the human body and its perception of time.

  Hadjar gently moved the slowly-growing kitten onto the skins and stood. He stretched his neck, which had been getting numb from his awkward posture, sheathed his sword into its scabbard, took his pipe, and silently left his tent.

  The wet and very cool wind immediately brushed his skin.

  The fires lit by the patrolling soldiers were burning somewhere, and the sentinel lights shone on the rocks. Their light was similar to the glare of the moon.

  Hadjar moved his head back and gazed upwards.

  Stars shone in the night sky. A myriad of small, fiery diamonds scattered across the black velvet of heaven, as cold and impassive as the sunlight on the snow-covered Black Mountains.

  Perhaps the camp of the Moon Army looked the same from a distant star.

  A foolish thought.

  “General,” the soldiers greeted him sleepily.

  They rose, saluted, and then resumed what they’d been doing previously, discussing various things, sometimes singing, but usually just sharpening their swords and peering into their steely gleam. Such nights were ideal for contemplating not only the cosmic depths but also the much more mysterious depths of one’s own soul. This was especially noticeable in the expressions of the Lidus warriors Hadjar saw that early morning.

  They had followed their General, who had led them through battles and hardships, and they’d ended up fighting another's war. Lidus hadn’t declared war on Balium, and yet they’d still come to these foreign lands to fight against the sect—about which they’d heard only in legends.

  ‘The Black Gates’ had been a model of cultivation for Lidus no more than fifteen years ago—something monumental and undeniable in its omnipotence. Now, they weren’t just fighting that same legend, but they had also succeeded in capturing their sixth pavilion.

  The rumors about the approaching invasion of monsters spread around the camp like wildfire and made those already worrying fret even more. Would they be able to survive if the horde turned out to be more than a simple village fairy tale? Death was closing in on them from all around—they were between a rock and a hard place. They could die among the sharp rocks, from the storm and the cold, at the hands of the sectarians, or in the jaws of a hungry, ravenous beast.

  But this was the life of a person that had devoted themselves to the path of cultivation. They preferred the life of a mortal, like a leaf torn and carried by the wind to another life, one in which death’s cold breath was always present and grew closer to them by the second.

  And yet, millions of people still chose the path of cultivation. Everyone was guided by their own desires. Some sought freedom, some wanted eternity, and others coveted power.

  Hadjar took off his white cloak and placed it on a stone at the edge of the camp. He didn't want to get cold and sick. He raised his pipe to his lips and lit it, staring at the hilt of Moon Beam as he did so.

  Why did he keep fighting through these difficulties while reaching for the stars? He didn’t have a talent for cultivation, only the sword. Was it for the sake of revenge? And what would happen after he got his revenge—or justice, to be more precise?

  Would he need power after that? What would he even do with it?

  “I knew I’d find you here,” he heard a voice behind him say.

  Hadjar turned around. His white-haired friend limped toward him before pausing and leaning on a wooden crutch.

  “Ask Serra to give you back your normal color. You look like a ghost.”

  “Face it, buddy.” Nero sighed. He sat down and lit his own pipe. “I’m gonna stay like this forever now.”

  “Do you like it that much?”

  “It’s because of that fat halberdier.”

  “Halberdier...” Hadjar repeated.

  They paused and then laughed together for a long time, until Nero put a hand to his chest and struggled to control his breathing. Apparently, the wound hadn’t healed completely, and he was still having trouble with it.

  “I hope, buddy, that you didn’t forget to wear woolen pants while traveling through the mountains?”

  “You don’t have to worry about my underwear. You just be careful that your organs don’t wither and fall off.”

  “Ask Serra,” Nero replied with a huge smirk lighting up his face. “Everything works just as well as before.”

  “Stop lying. I saw you. You were writhing around like a virgin in the harbor.”

  “I heard you had sex with the dead. Damn necrophiliac. Tell the Patriarch of the Gates about it, he will make you his heir on the spot.”

  Hadjar poked his friend in the shoulder. Nero answered with the same gesture as they smoked and looked at the distant stars.

  These kinds of moments rarely happened in their lives. They simply couldn’t contemplate infinity without endlessly fighting for their life, a loaf of bread, or the chance to decide their destinies themselves.

  “Thank you.” Nero sighed. “Really. Thanks, buddy.”

  “You would’ve done the same for me.”

  “Yes, I would have.” Nero nodded. “However…”

  Hadjar chuckled and continued smoking.

  “You still screwed it up.” The General frowned, exhaling a few circles of smoke.

  “Go to all the demons with your discontent, General. I thank him, and he’s still not happy. Then he has the nerve to call me his friend. I bet you brought me back from the dead to give me all the dirty work that you don’t want to do yourself. Damn fancy pants General!

  “Pfft,” Hadjar snorted. “Sure. Do you think I’m going to do all this stuff with the monsters myself? No, buddy, this is your headache!”

  They dropped back into silence again for a long moment.

  “Do you believe him?”

  “The Chief?”

  Nero nodded and emptied his pipe before lighting a cigarette in its place. He was able to exhale smoke rings much more skillfully than Hadjar. They were denser and remained in the air a little longer.

  “Did Serra tell you?”

  “Yes, she did.” Nero didn’t deny it. “She said that a horde of monsters could be here any moment.”

  “It might come,” Hadjar agreed. “Or it might not…”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “What we always do.” The General shrugged. “Hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”

  “As a rule, the ‘worst’ usually happens.”

  “Don’t jinx it, my friend.”

  “I’m just stating the facts.”

  “Smartass!” Hadjar snorted.

  “Well, the good news is,” Nero said as he put out the cigarette and lay down on the stone, “if the monsters do come, they’ll be interested in the sect too, not just us.”

&nbs
p; “I doubt they’ll hurt them much. The first pavilion is high in the mountains. Unlike the sixth one.”

  “Nevertheless…” The hope was clear in the blond man’s voice. “Maybe they’ll do enough damage to make things easier for us. By the way, how will you contact the Chief now? I don’t think he’ll dare come up here again.”

  “We’ll go down to them in the morning.” Hadjar shrugged. “Besides they have some kind of festival going on. They promised to feed us, give us drinks, and bring dancers.”

  “Dancers…” Nero closed his eyes dreamily, and then he abruptly sat up, looking around. Thank the gods, Serra wasn’t nearby. “This is what’ll happen, buddy. If there are any beautiful ladies there, they won’t be interested in me.”

  “You have your own ‘beautiful lady’, so don’t incite the gods’ anger! The others don’t have such an amazing woman”

  “Yes, you’re right,” Nero agreed. “Yes.”

  He took a deep breath and placed the back of his head on his right hand, scratching his stomach with his left.

  “Well, man, life is good.”

  Hadjar didn’t argue with that. He only hoped that they’d be able to say that again in a few months’ time.

  Chapter 129

  Later that morning, Hadjar awoke with a head full of gloomy thoughts, although he’d slept well. He left his white cloak with Azrea, who was sleeping on it, and he left the tent in his shabby black robes and black cape he usually wore.

  The commanders were waiting for him at the camp’s exit. Remembering who got it last time, Hadjar entrusted the Medallion of the General to Tuur again.

  “I’m honored.” The engineer bowed.

  This time, he took it more cheerfully. After all, the General had important things to deal with, and the whole army depended on more than just one of them to keep everything in order.

  A small black mare was led over to Hadjar. Most other Generals probably loved to ride horses—this always looked very impressive to ordinary people. The General, dressed in brilliant armor, formidable on their mighty horse—but Hadjar didn’t wear armor, and he preferred carts or his own two feet over a horse.

  However, walking downhill would take a lot more time than riding downhill on a horse at the Awakening of Power level. It would handle this task much more quickly, and he was sure it would probably be useful in other ways too. He’d recently had enough of trudging through the snow on foot to last him a while.

  Helion and Lian joined Hadjar. The cavalryman, as usual, was dressed in his fur coat, and the archer had put on a fitted coat more suited to some noblewoman leaving to enjoy an entertaining hunt. It was blue, with hemmed ruffles and a fur collar.

  Lian looked beautiful enough to make men glance at her and then severe enough that they immediately pretended to look somewhere beyond the horizon, rather than continuing to admire her figure.

  All the other commanders had remained in the camp because no one knew what problems might arise during the General’s absence.

  Hadjar had even left his bodyguards in the camp. They’d wanted to accompany him down to the villages, but they’d still obeyed the strict orders of Hadjar. He wasn't going to take a big crowd with him. The three of them would get things done much faster, plus, the villagers wouldn’t be happy with a large number of armed soldiers arriving on their doorstep.

  However, the General had wanted to take Lergon with him. The Baliumian was a native of this country, but he had refused, explaining that he’d had issues with a specific village.

  When he’d been young, he had apparently slept with the daughter of one of the local chiefs.

  He was probably lying, but Hadjar didn’t try to find out the true reason behind his refusal to visit his countrymen. He didn’t have time to look into it when he had more pressing concerns to deal with.

  “If we don’t return within three days,” Hadjar said. “Send a squad after us.”

  “You’ll only spend three days drinking and dancing?” Nero was outraged.

  “I’ve only been bedridden for five days and you've already become a bore, my General,” Nero said the last words with a pained groan. Serra’s elbow was very sharp, and she was quite strong. Her strike to his ribs had actually hurt.

  “Simon.”

  “Yes, General?”

  “A parade ground for the soldiers should be set up by the time I return. It should be large enough for at least three hundred thousand people to train there at the same time.”

  The purchasing officer froze with his mouth slightly open.

  “With all due respect, my General, what kind of demons do I need to hire to build something like this in such a short amount of time?”

  “If I knew the answer to that question, Simon, what would I need you for? As they say—the problems are mine, the decisions are yours. So, come on, work off your velvet clothes.”

  The logistics officer saluted and ran toward the camp. He grumbled and probably cursed the General along the way, but he did so silently. And while he obeyed orders, Hadjar was willing to overlook his minor indiscretions.

  He did the same with all his other subordinates. They might not be happy with the orders he gave, but they would obey them, and Hadjar was willing to pretend not to notice some of their petty... fraud.

  After all, a soldier who doesn’t want to be a general is a fool. And a person is even more stupid if they aren’t thinking about their retirement and how they will live after the army, and, most importantly—how they’ll pay for it.

  “Tuur.”

  “Yes, my General?”

  Despite the fact that the chief engineer was holding the General’s Medallion, he was doing nothing more than trying to look the part.

  “You have three days to make plans to strengthen our camp—that’s your number one priority. Also, we’ll have to accommodate at least four hundred additional soldiers…”

  “But that’s impossible, my General! We’re running out of room as it is! Where else can we put them?”

  “I’ll tell you what I told Simon.” Hadjar patted his horse’s neck. He didn’t know why, but everyone else seemed to do it. “I’m not the chief engineer, you are. So, I need you to solve this problem. And, yes, when I return, traps, mines, and anything that can slow down or destroy the approaching animals should already be placed around the camp.”

  The commanders fell silent.

  “So, you believe the Chief after all?” Lian asked, tucking her hair under the fur hood.

  Now she definitely looked more like a noblewoman than an officer. Like the daughter of some pompous lord or baron, at the very least.

  “It doesn’t matter whether I believe him or not, we must be prepared for any danger. And even if the animals don’t come, we’ll still have a good defense ready against any possible attempts by the sect to win back the pavilion.”

  Hadjar was still considering the possibility of an uprising within his army. He had no doubt that spies and disciples of the sect had already infiltrated the ranks of his soldiers along with the common people. Perhaps there were no more than a hundred of them, but even so few of them could cause great harm. Sabotage was always a possibility. And taking into account what Serra, Nero, and Hadjar had been able to do before the battle with the nomads…

  The “Secret police”, if some of the people overseen by Hadjar’s spymaster could even be called that, worked day and night. But so far, they had managed to find no more than ten spies in their ranks.

  Hadjar had ordered them to get all the information they could by any means necessary. He didn't care about honor; he wanted to keep his people alive. If they had to, he’d given them the order to torture people to get the information they needed out of them.

  “I’ll have the plans and the blueprints ready for you, my General.” Tuur bowed and went after Simon.

  Serra went to Hadjar and put a strip of yellow paper with hieroglyphs inscribed on it in his hand.

  “To activate the talisman,” she explained, “you’ll need to fill it with
power. After the hieroglyphs light up, you’ll have about a minute to escape.”

  “How fast will I have to run?”

  Serra frowned and then smiled; her expression slightly predatory.

  “Very quickly indeed, General.”

  “Then let’s hope I don’t have to use it.”

  Serra nodded and waved her hand. A gap, which soon widened to the size of an arch, appeared in the golden glow of the barrier. Hadjar waved his hand, saying goodbye, and guided his horse toward the pass. Helion and Lian hurried after him. They looked much more excited about the prospect of attending the festival than the General did.

  Hadjar hoped with all his heart that the stories about the monster invasion would turn out to be nothing more than a simple fairytale. Perhaps they were worrying over nothing.

  Chapter 130

  Hadjar rode along and watched the carpet of lit up lanterns hovering above him. His hood covered his head, and it was currently his only protection against the snow. The blizzard had faded slightly, but the strong wind that brought snow with it was still moving the lanterns around.

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  Hadjar hid his sword behind his back. He didn’t like to carry the scabbard over his shoulder because he couldn’t use the third stance of the ‘Light Breeze’ Technique when he did. And that particular stance was his best defense.

  The three of them moved down the road to the pass, where hundreds of small villages were located. Each of the villages had no more than five hundred houses, but otherwise differed little from the larger settlements.

  On the eve of the holiday, the residents had launched the lanterns into the sky. They looked like a carpet under a mountain path. Lost in thought, Hadjar gazed toward the northwest. Perhaps the battle between two supremely powerful beasts was taking place right now, beyond the forest that stretched between the mountains. A battle of two monsters that could transform into humans and walk freely among the cities and countries.