Chapter 50: Logtown
“First Squad Leader! Shim Bong-doo!”
“Second Squad Leader! Jo Won-deuk!”
“Third Squad Leader! Joseph Felton!”
Cheol-du nodded as he observed the three rigidly disciplined squad leaders.
“Good! Each of you will recruit nineteen members.”
“Yes, understood!”
Three squads of twenty members each—including the squad leaders—were formed, with three barracks buildings assigned as living quarters.
“Rest on your own. Training begins tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, sir!”
The newly appointed mercenaries scattered, while Cheol-du headed to the lone two-story building at the center.
The first floor served as the mercenary corps’ office, while the second floor appeared to function as private quarters.
“You’re taking that room.”
“Okay.”
The second floor had one spacious room and two smaller ones. Cheol-du assigned one of the smaller rooms to Jin-tae.
Clunk!
Unfastening his sword belt, he sat down with an odd sense of anticipation. The room contained one table, two chairs, and a bed. Though spacious, the bare furnishings gave it an empty feel—yet it wasn’t unpleasant.
Through the wide south-facing window, he saw the training grounds. The north window offered a view of the barracks where mercenaries filed in.
Ten barracks in total.
Filled with twenty each, this encampment could house two hundred.
“Heh.”
Was this the romance and thrill of a first home?
Cheol-du didn’t feel bad. No—he felt good.
“Cheol-du.”
“Yeah, come in.”
“Wow, this place is empty too.”
“How’s your room?”
“Same as yours. Just smaller.”
“Heh.”
“But seriously, what’s your plan?”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re bandits. Can we really trust them?”
Cheol-du snorted.
“The Odoli were gangsters too.”
“Ah, right.”
“What’s worrying you?”
“There should be camaraderie. At least enough to trust each other’s backs as mercenaries.”
“Heh. Jin-tae.”
“Yeah?”
“That comes naturally after training your asses off together.”
“Huh?”
“Which means you’ll join us starting tomorrow.”
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“Wait—what?!”
“Aren’t you the unit commander?”
“But…”
Was he supposed to abandon his commander role now?
Jin-tae’s face twisted as if he might cry, but he steeled himself and nodded firmly.
“Fine. Damn it. Can’t stay a loser forever. Needed training anyway.”
“Heh. Same here.”
Cheol-du still hadn’t absorbed all fifty stat stones.
Stat stones expanded one’s vessel—but without filling it through training, size meant nothing. Time alone would gradually fill it, but not fast enough. Training related to each stat accelerated the process.
Cheol-du had filled forty-three Strength stones but hadn’t broken through his current limit. Activating more stones now wouldn’t increase his power. He planned to train to his expanded limit before activating them one by one.
Don’t know the limit yet, but aiming for forty-nine.
He’d already surpassed thirty—the threshold separating ordinary human talent. Though unaware of barbarian averages, Cheol-du didn’t consider his talent lacking.
He inherited blood from a great warrior father and a renowned shaman mother.
Ordinary? Impossible.
“We train with the time left. Jin-tae.”
“Okay!”
A little over twenty days remained.
The year’s end would be spent forging bonds through training with Nova’s new mercenaries.
– Mercenary Corps Observation Report –
Day 1
Bandits fought among themselves before electing leaders and splitting into three groups.
Day 2
Supplies stockpiled. Training commenced. Three teams took turns beating each other.
Day 3
Kim Jin-tae and sixty others formed a team for a 61 vs. 1 match against Cheol-du. All were defeated. Continued endurance training with running and weapon drills.
Day 4
Three attempted desertion at dawn. Cheol-du captured them before perimeter guards noticed. Executed by beheading that morning. Spent day clearing land and constructing farm sheds.
Day 5
No further complaints. Cheol-du focused on personal training. Bandits began archery drills under Jin-tae’s command. Requested bow/arrow supplies from authorities.
Day 6
Jin-tae proved unexpectedly meticulous in managing drills: stamina, combat skills, formations. Later hunted five boars outside West Gate for meals.
Day 7
Discipline solidified. Bandits’ eyes gleamed with lethal intent. Guard rotations began at the encampment.
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Colonel Park Joon-pil slammed the report shut and slapped his knee.
“Brilliant!”
To turn criminals into soldiers in a week—this kid was something else.
“Status of the jailed ones?”
“Unchanged.”
“Tch. Headache.”
The imprisoned bandits grew restless. Their combat skills made them too dangerous for labor—guarding sixty required more manpower than their labor was worth.
“Wish we could dump this problem too…”
Pity they couldn’t recruit them all.
“Hey! Anyone here?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Ah, Chief Ahn?”
Captain Ahn Seung-woo, the senior supply officer doubling as deputy, bowed.
“Sir.”
“Let’s inspect the mercenary base.”
“Understood. What about the Special Task Force withdrawal request?”
Damn, he still hasn’t signed the paperwork.
“I’ve verified everything. Recall them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s go.”
“Yes.”
After Colonel Park and Chief Ahn left, Major Lee Eun-young—the “Swordmaster of Joseon”—entered the vacant command room.
Thud.
Rummaging through drawers, she frowned.
“Where’s the seal?”
She needed the commander’s seal to forge orders. To confront the Marauder Faction, she required at least three battalions—even the “Swordmaster of Joseon” couldn’t solo them.
“Looking for this?”
“Huh?!”
Lee Eun-young jerked back, gripping her sword hilt.
“Captain Choi?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Choi Joon-seop saluted mockingly. Lee scowled.
“Hand over the seal.”
“Just kidding. The old man keeps it glued to him—wouldn’t leave it here.”
Despite his eccentric persona, Colonel Park meticulously reviewed every report. He’d never delegated approval authority—not even to trusted Chief Ahn.
Ten years of flawlessly governing New Seoul proved his competence.
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“Tch.”
No reason to stay. As Lee turned to leave, Choi asked:
“Competitive streak?”
“What?”
“About crushing the Marauders.”
“…No.”
Competitive streak my ass.
“It’s just time to eliminate them.”
“Hmm.”
“Leaving.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After she left, Choi chuckled, stroking his chin.
“Definitely competitive. Heh.”
Lee Eun-young’s pride must’ve been pricked. Thunder Bareback—a nobody who wasn’t even a ranked fighter—had destroyed four ranked opponents and a mountain stronghold overnight.
“Must’ve gotten under her skin.”
Choi stretched.
“Better fetch my team.”
He’d come to expedite the Task Force withdrawal approval but stumbled on better entertainment.
Choi hurried through the artisan district. Fifty meters north, past the last houses, lay the encampment.
The surrounding land—once reserved for future development—now bore stakes marking mercenary territory.
“Huh? Those stakes?”
“Land granted to the mercenary corps.”
“What?!”
Colonel Park gaped. The stakes encircled a one-kilometer radius around the encampment.
“Greedy bastard.”
“Remove them?”
“No. If the city expands, we’ll build new walls outside.”
The river blocked northern expansion, but other directions were viable. Having the mercenaries guard the west would save military funds.
If budget tightens, just assign them missions. Mercenaries stationed here, taking requests—what’s not to like?
You watching, Jang Mi-ran?
This was frontline command adaptability. The regular report had likely reached headquarters by now—he wondered how she’d react.
“Heh.”
Teasing his junior never got old.
“You seem pleased, sir.”
“Why not? Traded some land for talent.”
“Haha, true.”
“Let’s dump the prisoners on them too.”
“Assigning the Marauder purge?”
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“Exactly. If you’ve got flowers, throw a festival.”
“Wise decision.”
The jailed bandits—mostly minor accomplices—were too troublesome to execute or release. Perfect cannon fodder for eliminating New Seoul’s last major bandit group.
Cheol-du, who’d single-handedly raided a mountain stronghold, would survive. Afterward, maintaining good relations while employing the mercenaries would be ideal.
“Hahaha!”
Everything unfolded perfectly.
Then Colonel Park spotted the log cabin beside the cleared land.
“Th-that!”
He pointed speechlessly.
“Sir? That’s the farm shed from the report.”
“No!”
He roared.
“Why isn’t it a tiled house?!”
“Well…”
New Seoul required construction permits adhering to urban plans—including Joseon-era architectural styles like tiled roofs.
The supply officer pointed at a stake.
“This is mercenary autonomous territory.”
“…”
Colonel Park clenched his fists. His decade-long vision!
“…Damn.”
A log town in his perfected Hanseong?
He couldn’t blame anyone—he’d signed the autonomy permit himself.
“Let’s return!”
He’d renegotiate this. Undermining cultural aesthetics? Unforgivable.
