Novel Name : Mercenary Black Mamba

Mercenary Black Mamba - Chapter 192

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He washed the rice and settled it over the fire before mixing a namul. The sweet smell of sesame oil greeted his return. What was the associative thinking that made Koreans feel like Koreans? Mu Ssang was certain that it was sesame oil. There weren’t many Korean dishes that didn’t include sesame oil.

French dishes, to his limited knowledge, didn’t use sesame oil. Instead, they used olive oil as a substitute. Sesame oil was an additive that satisfied both the scent and taste. It tasted like a mixture of cloves and olive oil.

The baby raccoon began to chitter as though it was excited from the smell of sesame oil. When Mu Ssang turned around, the mother raccoon hurriedly turned its head.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

The raccoon b**** wasn’t shameless any more. It glanced at him with the child in its arms.

“There. You s***. I won’t chase you out since my teacher’s acknowledged you. Raise your child well.”

He sliced a piece of the beef he had bought in the market and threw it over. When the baby raccoon approached the lump of meat, the mother raccoon slapped the back of its head with its front paw.

“That b**** is really stubborn.”

It was like any other mother who would restrict its child from eating a stranger’s offerings. Mu Ssang enacted his becoming one with nature skill. It was hard to maintain becoming one with nature for long periods.

A human couldn’t become a natural matter on purpose unless they had a weightless soul like his teacher. According to his teacher’s critical judgment, becoming one with nature was nothing more than a low-level replication of a fraud.

“It’s not working.”

Despite his efforts, the raccoon b**** didn’t lower her guard. It only glanced at the human while slapping the two children’s heads, as they whined for the meat.


Mu Ssang finally realized that his entire body was drenched in blood. He was astonished and became sad.

I’ve become used to the smell of blood!

He’d considered his blood-drenched form to be normalcy! He automatically sighed. He’d been covered in blood every day, that it’d become comparable to sweating.

Then, what of his teacher?

Had he watched on as his student entered the praying square reeking of blood? Well, he was someone who had axed the Buddharūpa to light the temple’s fire, so he wouldn’t be bothered by what he had seen. The student and his teacher were alike, as the same dish to the same rice.

Mu Ssang jumped like a startled elk and sprinted out of the temple kitchen. He took a set of a practitioner’s uniform and ran to the river.

His teacher called him right after he had finished preparing for the pujana.


“Yes, I’m here.”

He had to be respectful when his teacher called him by his Buddhist name. His teacher only called him by his Buddhist name when he was about to teach him something. He had preferred the time when he was called a b*stard. Mu Ssang entered the main room and kneeled.

An announcer was reporting the news as though she was reading the Declaration of Independence from the TV set above the wood. The president was in the background, plastered with an arrogant expression. Others were standing nervously, with their buzzed side hair. With glaring eyes and a pressed mouth, his aura was overwhelming.

“Through the autonomous clean-up of media organizations, he gained a great achievement from removing fake media companies and criticizing news reporting agencies. The media was able to consolidate due to the president’s decisions…”

That was followed by an explanation of how the society had been renewed with the expansion of housing improvement projects in new villages and the Samchung re-education camp.

“That f****** b*stard!”

Bloodthirst flashed in Mu Ssang’s eyes. Things like autonomous closure and consolidation were all bulls***. They were calling the government’s violent control of the media to shut down the criticisms as an achievement. Praising a matter which had already been concluded in 1980 was the media’s way of sucking up to the most powerful.

The housing improvement project had been enacted by covering perfectly fine tile roofs with tin plates and replacing stone walls with cement blocks. Farmers had to suffer economically and endure the following storms in that duration. There had been endless corruption during the implementation of the project too.

What about the Samchung re-education camp?

He recalled an awful memory of when he was beaten up by metal bats and rifles’ butts. The citizens, who had their ears and eyes covered by the controlled media, didn’t know the truth. Foreign countries were more informed of the country’s situation. He recalled the Chad locals who couldn’t even breathe with a gun right before them.

That f*****, I should cut his head off!

A desire to kill suddenly reared its head.



His teacher swatted the chair with his bamboo stick. Mu Ssang hurriedly composed his mind.

“Sha Mu-Ah, this isn’t the Sahel. If you’re going to cause a scene, leave at once.”

“Hehe, there’s no way your apprentice would do that. I just didn’t like seeing that human’s f****** face.”

“Hmph, you still—! He’s a human with his own role. Think of the chaos you’d cause if you pluck that man’s neck. He’s controlling the chaos, albeit through oppression, isn’t he? If the world becomes chaotic, the ones to suffer would be the powerless people.”

“Ah, I’ll be careful.”

It wasn’t surprising that his teacher had gained the sight of thoughts. What couldn’t his teacher do when he could easily create explosions out of air? Mu Ssang had so much to protest like the grains found on an island’s beach but swallowed it down.

He didn’t want to disturb his teacher’s peace. Well, compared to Chad’s horrible reality, South Korea was livable. To compensate his growing guilty conscience after sending Ombuti and Edel away, he had prepared an ointment.

“Have you prepared the Buddharūpa?”

“Yes. I’ve made it simple since it’s breakfast.”

“You b*stard, that is what I’m scared of. The smell of sesame oil is reaching the heavens.”

“Hehe, I only prepared some vegetables.”

“It is nice to have a capable apprentice. I’m tired of that human too. It seems like the Buddharūpa’s out of the question since the Buddha prefers a rebirth. Hahaha!”

The great monk laughed as he turned the TV off.

“Mu-Ah, you have something to do from today onwards.”

“I’ll execute it to the best of my abilities.”

“You s***, stop using phrases. It’s disgusting for someone so young. Look into the mirror.”

His teacher acted as though he was shivering when he gave him a mirror.

“What do you see?”

“A really handsome guy smiling.”

“Hm, that face isn’t too bad. The problem is your annoying personality. Look at those eyes, do you see the red bloodlust engraved deep inside them?”

Mu Ssang flinched. It was a fact that he had been aware of. He’d known since his transfer to the hospital after completing the mission in Chad. He saw the raging bloodlust deep inside his eyes. He hadn’t seen it with his eyes but with his brain instead.

“I know. It’s probably the result of my killings.”

“Amita Bul! The Earthly realms have their own flows and rules. Wars are one of the weights that maintains the Earthly realms. You’d have pulled the trigger many times as a mercenary while I beat my wood. I have no intention to lecture you on death. You’ve already suppressed evil with evil in the eyes of humanity, so there’s no good or evil to debate. The good and wrongdoings of humans are worthless in the perspective of the universe.”

“Are you worried about the weight of those souls?”

“Hum, murder is another way to increase debts. Karma weighs heavier in the wheel of Samsara. The heavier the karma, the more weighed down your soul becomes. A heavy soul would turn into insects or a smaller life. A buddha is a position that the lightest soul can reach. Clean your mind from today onwards and pray for the dead. You need to wash your soul, which is weighed down by these souls. Wash your soul that has been drenched in blood.”

“Your apprentice will do as you say.”

“Look. Even that stubborn b**** is trembling from the smell that you are emanating. It’s a mother raising its child, which makes it completely normal to react despite erasing your existence. Your body has become dulled by bloodlust unknowingly. If you leave a body murky, it will seep into your soul and increase the weight of your karma. Repeat the Sutra of a Thousand Hands and calm your body by praying for the dead souls.”

“Yes, I’ll do it to the best of my abilities.”

Mu Ssang agreed with his teacher’s words, 100 times over. How many people had he killed with his hands? The gifts from the Oecophylla Smaragdina had seemed worthless after meeting his teacher.

100 corpses were nothing to be proud of!

Simo Häyhä had killed the Soviets trying to protect his country, but he’d killed countless people in exchange for money. Between himself and the dead, there was no connection.

Had there been a time when one man had caused a genocide against 1,000 people? He’d become a representative of dying a thousand deaths, just as his teacher had said.

His experience and actions were gathered in his body. His body was currently drenched in blood. He was also suffering from a headache due to its strong smell.

He returned to the kitchen after finishing his prayer. The raccoon family had disappeared. It seemed as though they’d fled after a scary guy had shown up during their relaxing stay with a benevolent guy. Mu Ssang had felt neglected.

Mu Ssang’s days were peaceful since his life had returned to that of a monk in training. He would practice the 36 forbidden practices and the five disjointment methods upon waking at four in the morning. After that, he would jump into the river to wash before he began to meditate. He would begin his prayer at six and sing the soul-refining chant.

After the morning routine, he would practice the five combined movements for two hours. Once it ended, he would gather herbs and plants. He would study for the university entrance exams after lunch. Fortunately, he’d finished his GED before leaving for France. He would serve dinner at six and pray for the evening service at seven. He would give a soul-refining service for two hours afterward. Once he had left the temple, he would study until midnight and go to sleep. His life was filled with leisure to the point of disbelief.

Mu Ssang was surprised to learn that the original exams had disappeared. The original exams had turned into an education achievement exam.

This is unfortunate.

He had felt dizzy upon knowing he’d have to enter the university after taking the education achievement exam. His study had been based around the original exam.

There were rumors of how the president had gotten rid of the original exams after forcefully threatening the educational department. It was said that the president’s son was stupid to the point that he couldn’t pass the original exam. Mu Ssang had laughed when he heard that. It was a rumor, but the president was capable of doing more than that.

He had finished preparing for the exam by buying two types of education center textbooks. Studying one textbook several times was better than flipping through several textbooks. Usually, people who didn’t know how to study had several references.

He couldn’t immediately leave to look for his mother, either. There was always a reason behind his teacher’s orders. 14 years had passed, so one month was nothing. His teacher had said his mother was alive before he had left for France.

Obviously, he had believed his teacher. No, she had to be alive. It was also disrespectful to look for his mother when his body was soaked in blood.

There was a cotton farm located next to a meander Pende lake on a greased land in Doba, Chad Oriental. The Gazelle had left Sun WooHyun adjacent to the Pende lake at a blind spot, leaving without turning back.

“Hm!” he automatically exclaimed.

The field of white before him was a cotton field. It was white all around, as though a snowstorm had passed. It was white to the horizon. Even the trees were different. Cotton had strong stems but were seasonal plants. Those were maidenhair trees. Its height was nearly two meters tall.

There were also many cotton fields in his hometown, Gaesung. They would usually plant cotton in the remodeled mountain fields. Even that was barely 30 pyung. Arranging the small fields in seven rows would cost below 100 pyung. The entire mountain would turn white in August.

Sun WooHyun became lost in his memories as he stroked the cotton tree that was as thick as his arm. The cotton that Sun WooHyun had seen was Indian. Its growth was short as it was an annual plant—short, rough, and tough. Asian cotton would grow in North Korea while upland cotton would grow in South Korea. Everything was seasonal.

His awe of the grand scenery lasted for a moment. He didn’t know how to take care of the task that Wakil had entrusted him. Wakil had told him to do well. Well, he didn’t know how to do “well.” Sun WooHyun wanted to finish Wakil’s task to impress him, but his expectation was the problem.

“It would have been nice if he had sent Ombuti along. Should I just kill them all?”

That wasn’t it. That wasn’t how Wakil did it. Negotiate? Not that either. It was hard to guess his Wakil’s intentions and why he had been sent instead.

“Aha!” Sun WooHyun exclaimed as though a ghost had possessed him amid his struggles.

He’s basically telling me to do whatever I want since he trusts me!

He could also guess the reason why he had sent Edel along with Ombuti. Wakil was hinting at him to see blood if needed. Sun WooHyun realized that his entire life had revolved around the orders of others.

“As expected of Wakil, he’s wise for his age. I, Sun WooHyun, am impressed. I’ll figure this out well since Miss Edel’s involved.”

Sun WooHyun was impressed and moved by the words that Black Mamba had thrown out of annoyance.

“I should start moving. The minister’s one of them. Well, Wakil should be able to suppress him once he returns.”

A small girl came into his view just then. She was wearing khaki-colored pants and a loose t-shirt. Her feet were bare. She was holding two water cans the size of herself.

“Bonjour, enchanté!”

The girl hesitated. She looked warily at the strange man.

“Pouvez-vous m’aider, s’il vous plaît?”[1]

[1] “Can you help me, please?”
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