YM778.TV Chapter 274 - Episode 5: National Treasure
Chapter 274: Chapter 31, Episode 5: National Treasure
The autonomous region he had planned in the Sahel was the size of Gyeonggi-do. He could obtain a larger land with France’s cooperation. It was a funny situation in which he had to negotiate with France to obtain land in Chad. President Habre, who was France’s puppet, didn’t have much power, nor was he interested in the North. It was a tragedy created by a country with s***ty politics.
The Sahel region was barren, but its value changed depending on how it was optimized. There were almost 40,000,000 Kurds who were persecuted for being countryless. There were 1,200,000 Syrian Orthodox. Countless other people were also wiped out because of their race. The Jews founded Israel with help from the U.S. There was no reason for him not to build a country with France’s aid. There was a land with countless people to fill it. It was also an idea that could expand the small and overcrowded Korean Peninsula. However, those idiot politicians in Korea would never understand.
The yard before the castle ruins was busily lit up with several bright lights. Three portable generators, which were prepared by Ecjose, powered up the bright lights.
He saw Mohammad, who was skillfully guiding the guards and embassy staff. The 540 locals were silently filtered out like flowing water. The guards inspected their luggage. Those found with large luggage had to reorganize on the spot.
Once their luggage passed the check, they were given small papers with warning notices before they were assigned to the buses accordingly to families. An embassy staff attached tags to their luggage while an operative agent moved them to the trucks.
“I gained an unexpected talent.”
He was impressed by Mohammad’s performance. There was no need for him to interfere. Mohammad, who had mastered administration, was capable of becoming his right hand.
“Well, it’s also my responsibility, I guess. It looks like I’ve got to bid this place farewell once Ahmad’s lover is rescued.”
Black Mamba smiled bitterly. After he had drilled a hole through the bottom of the lake, the lake’s water level started decreasing. Once Maydanki Lake dried up, it’d be hard to farm with an annual rainfall of only 300 millimeters. It would be a calamity to the Orthodox Christians and the Kurd tribe who relied on the lake to survive. Therefore, their relocation was his responsibility.
At two o’clock in the morning, the surroundings were enveloped in darkness apart from the bloated crescent moon. Ahmad led the Kurd tribe warriors and rushed down the hill without rest. The Kurds were agile like mountain sheep. They quickly caught up with Ahmad, someone who had mastered the art of assassination.
Black Mamba trailed behind the group without their knowledge. It was to prevent any unnecessary losses on both sides. There was one palm tree standing in the front yard of the council hall.
Flick—
Black Mamba flew up like a feather. He wrapped the Rakshasa around a branch that was 15 meters high and pulled himself up once more. While waiting for Ahmad’s group to arrive, Black Mamba seated comfortably on the top of the tree. He was going to observe how the rescue team moved.
Dogs started barking once Ahmad’s group arrived at Gobelaka Village. Humans couldn’t fool a dog’s senses.
Woof woof—
Bark bark—
When one started barking, the others followed too.
A house owner came out with a stick in hand.
“Did a lynx come down? Down, you, be quiet.”
The house owner looked around and patted the dog before heading back into the house. Ahmad’s group minimized the sounds of their footsteps as they entered the village. Their target was the council hall, where Idia was locked up.
In a village that was totally dark, only the council hall’s oil lamps burned brightly in the center.
“Those Wahhabi swine!”
Ahmad gritted his teeth. He was raging with bloodlust. There, his precious Idia was locked up. Idia would be executed when dawn broke. He wanted to kill everyone—the b*stards who wanted Idia dead, the warriors of Islam who killed her father, and the villagers. “Don’t kill rashly.” Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa’s warning pressed down on his beating heart, which was overwhelmed with the intention to kill. Ahmad turned to look at the Kurd tribe warriors.
“Brothers, Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa said we could kill those who are carrying guns. I’d like to kill those b*stards. Can you suppress the villagers who’re guarding Idia?”
“Yes.”
Five shadows blended with the darkness. A volunteer guard, who had his head bashed in from behind, collapsed.
“What?”
The guard’s friend turned his head in surprise and was attacked on his forehead. The Kurd tribe warriors moved in pairs and silenced the patrolling guards ruthlessly. The Kurd tribe warriors approached the council hall after silencing all six guards.
Ahmad glared at the council hall’s entrance. Those b*stards were guarding the entrance. Two masked b*stards were sitting on chairs while smoking. Unfortunately, oil lamps hung around the entire front yard. To approach them, he had to reveal himself in the light.
It took at least three seconds to close a distance of 20 meters. That was enough time for the enemy to raise their guns and pull the trigger. He was bound to turn into a beehive without a chance to wield his knife. The distance was too far for him to throw a dagger.
“Ahh, ah!”
A frail voice sounded while Ahmad was deep in thoughts.
“What sound is that?”
“It’s the sound of a woman moaning.”
“Really?”
He overheard the smoking b*stards’ conversation. Ahmad was confused. What kind of ghost was that?
“Oh, stop. Hmm—”
The moans lasted for a long time.
Amazing!
Black Mamba was impressed. A female Kurd tribe warrior was hiding around the corner of the building, behind a large wooden box filled with coals inside. Luring men with sexual sounds were skills used often by ninjas. It wasn’t a skill that a female Kurd in Arab would typically use. His boredom disappeared, and curiosity arose.
A b*stard, who didn’t get excited from hearing a woman’s moans at night, was a eunuch. One of the b*stard stood up with a gun in hand.
“It seems like a woman got herself in and over her head.”
“Catch her, and bring her here. Let’s execute them all at once tomorrow. Kill the guy immediately.”
Crazy b*stards!
Black Mamba was astounded. They were all kinds of mad, now that he was listening closely. He knew that Wahhabis were half-mad, but that was extreme madness.
Rustle—
Rustle—
Heavy footsteps approached.
“Ahh, be gentle.”
Aishe lowered her voice. She pulled her aba[1] to one side, revealing her shoulder, before grabbing a dagger that glowed in blue.
“Hehehe, are there only lusty women in this village? You dirty b*stards, come out of there immediately. I’ll bed the woman in your place.”
The man jabbed the exposed shoulder with the tip of his rifle.
Tap—
A white hand appeared out of nowhere. It grabbed the barrel and pulled.
“Huh!”
The man instinctively tightened his grip on the rifle. His upper body was dragged along.
Whoosh—
A dagger jumped out from the dark. The blade, which was the length of a palm, accurately dug into the area between the third and fourth ribs. That had been an accurate and quick hand movement. Even Black Mamba flinched.
“Kugh!”
The blade pierced the lungs and heart, leaving behind only its handle. The man glared at the woman who was wearing a black shalwar[2] and a loose aba.
“How dare a woman—”
Grth—
Blood frothed at the man’s mouth.
Bang—
Silently, he collapsed onto the floor like an empty sack. His death was instant.
Dirty b*stard, you’re not going to heaven anytime soon.
Aishe glared at the dead man.
Amazing. Black Mamba was rather impressed by the live scene playing out.
“Hey, what are you doing? Captain’s going to murder us if you try to have fun. Didn’t you hear him say we should guard closely?”
The b*stard, who had remained in his position, raised his butt off the chair.
Whoosh—
Ahmad flung his body forward.
“What the—?”
The masked man was completely distracted by the woman’s moans coming from the back. By the time he noticed Ahmad and raised his rifle, it was already too late. Ahmad’s shamshir flew into the air and descended from the crescent moon.
Splash—
The blade sliced the man from his head to his midriff. The man collapsed in his own pool of blood.
“That slacking brat, his practical skills are s***.”
Black Mamba clicked his tongue. It looked flashy, but it was all for nothing. He found it ridiculous that a guy equipped with assassination techniques would attack with a downward slash after a flying kick. Piercing was more accurate and quicker than slashing. If the warriors of Islam had learned martial arts, that would have given them time to counterattack. The brat had no real experience.
“Thanks, Aishe,” Ahmad whispered to Aishe, who had been following him and was plastered against the entrance.
“Hurry up, slacker,” Aishe replied coldly.
Ahmad awkwardly brought his hand up to the door when Aishe elbowed his side. She pulled out a small bottle from her pocket and poured it over the door hinge. A light olive smell wafted up.
Aishe gently pulled the door open. The thick wooden door opened without a sound. Ahmad’s face creased, and his pride was nowhere to be found.
In a village without a masjid, the council hall was built for the community prayer. The place was also utilized for the discussion of the village’s matters and for the village leader to evaluate those who violated religious laws.
Ahmad looked inside through the small gap of the door. A woman wearing a white niqab was seen in the corner. He recognized Idia instantly. His heart started pounding. Three masked men with rifles sat on chairs while talking to each other. They were the Wahhabi b*stards who called themselves the warriors of Islam. Three other identifiable volunteer guards were playing dice.
“How many b*stards?” Bakir, who had caught up with Ahmad, whispered.
“There’s three with rifles and three with sticks. Brothers, I’m leaving the ones with sticks to you.”
Ahmad and the Kurd tribe warriors exchanged glances.
Bang—
Ahmad kicked the door open and rushed in. The Kurd tribe warriors, who followed behind, rushed immediately toward the villagers carrying the sticks.
“Denta musinun!”
Surprised, the masked men raised their rifles.
Whoosh whoosh—
Ahmad consecutively threw his daggers forward.
“Agh!”
“Ugh!”
The masked men shouted after the daggers dug into their shoulder and stomach. Ahmad’s shamshir had missed its target. The blade lashed past the third man’s neck the moment he aimed the rifle.
Bang—
The rifle fired, and his head fell off.
“Damn b*stard, die!”
The man with the dagger embedded in his stomach suddenly geared up to fight. He raised his gun at Ahmad.
“Damn, you fool.”
The dagger in Aishe’s hand left.
Crack—
The dagger landed squarely on the man’s forehead right before he could pull the trigger. Surprised, Ahmad immediately sliced off the other man’s neck, whose shoulder was pierced by the dagger.
“Who are you, b*stards?”
When the strangers attacked, the Gobelaka volunteer guards freaked out. They immediately raised their sticks and got into a defensive position.
Crack—
Crack—
The guards didn’t measure up to the Kurd tribe. They swung their sticks all over the place and immediately turned into mush by the unexpected beatings.
Ahmad shook the blood off his shamshir. It was dangerous, but everyone was dealt with.
“Ahmad!” A piercing scream rang.
“Don’t move. I’ll kill this b**** if you do.”
Ahmad and the Kurd tribe stopped moving immediately. A masked man aimed a gun at Idia’s head. Red eyes glared at Ahmad. Those eyes burned with hatred.
“Eee, you dirty b*stard!”
Ahmad’s eyes darkened. He’d been arrogant. There weren’t five of them but six. He hadn’t thought of the wooden altar behind Idia. He wanted to beat his chest, but the milk had already spilled.
“Hehe, abandon your weapons.”
“Damn!”
Ahmad threw down his knife. Although slightly hesitant, the Kurd tribe warriors similarly lowered their sticks.
“You dirty f*****, let the woman go now.”
“Hehe, you killed my friends, didn’t you?”
The gun pointed at Ahmad.
“No!”
Idia resisted. The masked man slapped her ruthlessly. She fainted in a single blow.
“You dirty heathen, farewell.”
God, please, at least let Idia—
Ahmad started praying. However, the bullet didn’t come. The masked man flinched.
“Kugh!”
A groan escaped the confident man’s mouth. Blood accumulated underneath his feet. An unrealistic sight in which a body was sliced from bottom to top occurred.
Bang—
The man collapsed. He was nothing more than meat hanging on a hook in a butcher shop.
“Tha…that’s?”
Ahmad and the Kurd tribe warriors’ eyes widened to the point of tearing. They saw an arm pierce through the wall. The council hall was made out of mud walls. It was sturdier than cement walls.
“Ghuls!”
Bakir and the Kurd tribe warriors shivered.
Bang—
The wall collapsed. A man wearing a grey gandoura walked out of the gaping hole.
Whoosh—
Crash—
The Rakshasa, which fell while drawing a cycloid arc, sliced the wooden altar in half. There wasn’t even a scream. The masked man fell on the floor with his body cut vertically.
“Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa!”
Everyone’s mouths hung open.
“You idiot, did you learn from the Circassians Mamluk with your a**hole? Can’t you count the number of enemies?”
“I’m sorry, sir.” Ahmad lowered his head at Black Mamba’s scolding.
“You made seven mistakes today. I’ll beat you up to the point of death.”
“I’ll receive any punishment, sir.”
“Woman, what’s your name?”
Black Mamba turned to look at the quick-witted female Kurd tribe warrior.
“It’s Aishe, sir.”
“Aishe, you did well.”
“Thank you, Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa.”
Aishe’s eyes twinkled as they looked at Black Mamba’s face.
“We’re retreating. The gunshots should have woken the villagers up. Bakir!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Erase anyone who blocks your path.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ahmad carried the unconscious Idia on his back. The group moved out like the wind. Some villagers tried to stop them, but they were knocked down with a sound beating.
“Hooray, Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa!”
When Ahmad appeared with Idia on his back, the Orthodox Christians cheered. Mohammad’s slyness brought about results. There was kindness in the way that the Orthodox Christians looked at the Kurd tribe. Religious walls were nothing but falsities built on segregation and dogmatism.
“Depart, don’t speed!”
Black Mamba’s shout echoed throughout the abandoned castle ruins. He was announcing his departure to Syria, where he had involuntarily experienced all kinds of hardships and gained all sorts of things.
[1] An outer garment.
[2] Shalwar is a trouser that can be wide and baggy or cut quite narrow. They are typically worn by women and men in South Asia and Central Asia.