Nine Venoms Sect Founder

Chapter 141: Disciplining the Troops

As she purged her demoralizing emotions on Harun's chest, Jiyan's drumming heart relaxed. With a stroke of his thumbs, Harun wiped off her tears and placed a tender kiss on his beloved's forehead. Soothed, Jiyan raised her eyes, fixing them on Harun's heterochromatic hues which still glimmered like a starry sky. Ignoring the ash-gray, pulsing veins spreading from the purple eye and scarring half of Harun's face, Jiyan stood on tiptoes, taking his lips into hers—their heartbeats meshed instantly, becoming a melodious echo of their blooming affection. 

For an instant, engrossed in one another's embrace, both forgot their surroundings, and for several minutes, smooched with impunity. Watching from the sidelines, Mukri and Birandar had drastically different reactions. Whereas the bull nodded in approval, the three-eyed youth frowned, as if the more connected the two appeared, the more fearful he became. Casting a sidelong glance at the youth, Mukri spotted the apprehension flashing in his eyes and narrowed his eyes at him. josei

"What, don't tell me that you really swing that way. Fuck, I knew it! Can't have no man drop from nowhere and go 'PLEASE ACCEPT ME' without some dick-grabbing plot in mind. Sorry pal, but we are not liberals here. Restrain yourself!" Mukri rattled off, catching Birandar off-guard.

Birandar wanted to say that Mukri misunderstood his intent, but not knowing how to speak those words without incriminating himself further, he just stood there—mouth agape and blinking in confusion. But taking his silence as an admission of guilt, Mukri stomped his hooves and turned sideways. 

Pulled back to the boring world by the duo's racket, Harun and Jiyan broke their kiss. By now, the smoke clouds had long dispersed. The 120 Desolate Corpses formed circles around a calcined Weeping Soul Tree. Having taken the 120 chained Solar Desolations point-blank, the treant's eyes burned till nothing remained. Its body, however, survived as a blackened tree from which scalding vapor oozed out. Akin to an army of deathly loyal zealots, they stood straight like arrows, but fixed their lord with intense, flaming gazes. After absorbing the three Sanguine Dolls' abilities, each of those corpses' fleshly bodies had reached half-Anasrava level. If they could go through Heavenly Tribulation and refine a bolt mark, Harun would instantly get 120 God-level undead. With Mehran to bind them in offensive formations, those undead would allow Harun to promptly conquer the Second Range and snatch all its tokens. 

Unfortunately, to say nothing of lightning refining, the Desolate Corpses had little to no mental abilities. Unless he stole the secrets within Dolma's broken soul, Harun would have to guide their progress step by step. With a hand gesture, Harun beckoned for Mukri and Birandar. Without delay, the two rushed toward him—almost as if competing for merit.

"Boss, what an outstanding performance! How awe-inspiring! Across this world's billions of lives, no, in the past present and future, none will ever be able to match your resourcefulness," recalling that he almost attempted to blast Harun with Heavenly Tribulation, Mukri broke into cold sweat, and attempted to use his flattering tongue to make up for this life-threatening blunder. At his right, confident in his handling of the situation, Birandar appeared stoic, but inwardly sighed at Mukri's misfortune. 

Ignoring Mukri's sycophancy, Harun observed the two for a minute, lingered on the bull, then heaved a sigh. 

"Ha, I'm so fucked. Why did I have to play the fool? The boss finally has an excuse to turn me into a T-Bone steak," Mukri lamented, broke into tears, and wept at Harun's feet.

"Boss, please don't eat me! I wasn't thinking straight! I swear I will never rebel again!" Overwhelmed by fright, Mukri closed his eyes and made a desperate pledge. But ignoring him, Harun raised his right hand, and as both Birandar and Mukri believed that the bull's life had come to an end, Harun patted Mukri's muzzle. "There is still hope for you. After we return to the clan, I will give you your due," he said with a gentle smile, taking the duo aback. 

Confused, Mukri blinked at Harun. Though this plague boss of his didn't belong to the murderous blood-thirster type, he was no tender lad, either. Mukri didn't believe that Harun would let the seed of rebellion grow under his nose, and was at least prepared for the thrashing of his life. More radical, Birandar was about to advocate harsh punishments, but once Harun's eyes locked on him, the youth choked on his words.

"There is one thing I need to understand. You had no prior knowledge of the tricks I played, so when you prevented Mukri from summoning the tribulation clouds, what gave you the confidence that I could turn things around?" Harun asked in a calm, serious tone. In Birandar's limpid eyes, Harun could see a gentle and caring soul with enough warmth to shelter the world.

On that point, perhaps due to age and experiences, the two stood on drastically opposed ends. Yet, despite his gentle nature, whenever Harun's name was involved, it seemed that Birandar forgot all principles and beliefs to make Harun's security his sole priority—the herculean youth's following words proved him right. 

"I had no clue. But I hold the firm belief that Master can outfox all experts and tribulations. In the meantime, I can't allow anyone to harm you—regardless of the cost," Birandar straightforwardly replied. An unbreakable conviction laced the boy's words, convincing all that heard him that even if Harun asked him to die, he wouldn't hesitate.

"I see." Here, Harun paused. Something at Birandar's back grabbed his attention, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

"Holy crap, what is a three-legged goat doing behind you?" Like a startled fawn, Harun leaped back, and while Mukri and Jiyan narrowed skeptical eyes at him, Birandar spun 180—seeking the goat that alarmed his master. No goat appeared, and before the youth could make sense of this situation, Harun smacked the back of his head—sending him flying toward the ground. 

"Aaargh!" As hurt as perplexed, Birandar shrieked, stroking the growing bump on his head.

"Belief, my ass! Unbelievable! If one day I truly go mad, will you murder all those that attempt to save me while hoping that I will miraculously figure out a way to snap out of it? You are my disciple, not a blind zealot I picked up from the streets! If you only have blind devotion to offer and cannot adapt to the circumstances you face, what purpose does your talent serve? I might as well grant you the crown of puppet king!" Harun snapped at his overzealous disciple, and to Mukri's shock, started kicking his disciple's butt in the most literal of senses. 

It didn't take one minute of ass-kicking for poor Birandar's swollen butt to look uneven. Yet, Harun didn't stop, and with ruthless efficiency, disciplined his boy. 

"Master, master! I was wrong! I was wrong! Please forgive me!" Birandar pleaded, and Jiyan, who for some reason found the ass-stomping quite pleasurable, clapped in approval. On the contrary, Mukri was scared out of his wits, unable to stand why the roles were reversed so fast.

"Can't believe it. I actually dodged a bullet. Hahaha, the Devil must owe me money!" Mukri suppressed a burst of laughter. But as the quartet's disciplinary session neared the finish line, blackened branches sprouted from the ground, aiming for their hearts.