Chapter 265: Episode 6: I Should Gain the Rewards of Labor

“Yes, you’re right. The Wahhabis are madmen who interpret the Quran to their tastes. They even publicly executed someone for entering the masjid with his left foot. They’ve expanded on the phrase ‘what your right hand possesses’ in the Quran. If an adult woman above the age of 16 didn’t wear the hijab or niqab or falls in love with a heathen, they’re exiled to the desert or stoned to death by the villagers. This is their expanded interpretation of the ninth chapter in the Quran, ‘You must not regard your father or brother as a friend if they choose to become an atheist. If there is an atheist among you, the person is of an unholy group.’ The Arabian Peninsula of the seventh century was a polytheistic society where conflicts between tribes never ceased. They were foolish people who accepted the century’s interpretation of the Quran up until the present day.”

Bakri criticized Islamic fundamentalism fiercely. From an outsider’s perspective, Wahhabism was a monster that revealed the genuine face of a twisted religion.

“Woah, they really are mad b*stards. Is the heathen involved with that lady a Christian?”

“Yes. He is the son of Malik Marwan under my care, Ahmad. He is a kind man who protects our fellow Christians.”

“What happened to the daughter of the executed man?”

“She should be locked up in the public hall. Islam considers marriage with a heathen sinful. The fundamentalists regarded a woman as a devil after a night with a heathen. They will make her pray for repentance for three days and tie her up on an olive tree outside the village on the fourth day. Then, the villagers will throw rocks at her until she dies.”

“Ha, how crude. Do the villagers agree with such actions?”

“People of the Levant are prideful and place great importance on their respectability. They believe that her actions have diminished the village’s honor. Few pitied her, but they cannot share their opinions. If they’re reported for going against the religious laws, the Islamic warriors will attack them. Perhaps they lost the ability to sympathize with someone else’s pain as a result of suppression from dogmatism.”

“How ironic. Assad is turning his enemies against one another. There’s a saying that one must do as the Romans did when in Rome. Syria is an Islamic country. Jamal, as a follower of Islam, what do you think?”

Jamal’s face turned pale at the piercing question. How many people had he killed with his hands in the past eight years? The ANO’s thoughts and code of conduct were based on the fifth verse of the ninth chapter in the Quran that went, “capture the heathens, besiege them, and lie in wait for them in every way. However, if they repent, then set them free.” Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa’s question was an accusation. He felt like his heart was bleeding, as though it had been stabbed by a knife.

“I wish to die from the embarrassment of my actions. Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa has lifted the darkness that was covering my eyes. Hadritak Bakri showed me my foolishness. There’s no way that Allah, the all-loving, would desire such cruel methods. ‘Refrain from killing others, even for revenge. There shall be Allah’s guidance.’ is a phrase from the Quran. The Quran teaches one not to take the lives of enemies. Wahhabism justified murder sprees with religious laws.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t make sense that religious laws, which reflected the seventh century’s society, are made applicable to modern society. They are b*stards who look at the pointing finger instead of the moon that they’re told to look at. A religion that should be healing the soul cannot be chaining it. Holding onto a doctrine without commonality is not by Allah’s will but of mankind’s greed.”

“Bismillah, Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa’s words are right.”

“It’s wrong to sentence a young man and woman in love to death. Didn’t the young man receive any punishment?”

“It isn’t a crime to rape a woman who doesn’t wear the hijab or niqab. All blame falls on the woman who looks at a man’s naked body and seduces him.”

“Ha, gosh, should this place be called a paradise for men or the choir of psychos?”

Black Mamba clicked his tongue at Jamal’s reply. It was a land of barbarians and no different from the Sahel.

Ring ring—

The bell rang.

“Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa, it looks like the bathwater is ready. We’ll prepare some food and new clothes for you while you wash.”

“Thanks. Call Malik and his son over.”

“Ah, then you’re…?”

Bakri’s face grew bright. Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa believed in humanism. If the apostle decided to interfere, the problem was considered solved.

“What kind of law prevents one from loving another because of different religions? Stoning a woman who hasn’t even bloomed to death, what kind of absurdity is this? I can’t stand still, can I? Damn b*stards!”

Black Mamba headed into the house after Bakri’s son, fuming.

“Marhaban!”

Black Mamba raised his right hand and greeted. The men and women in the dining room immediately raised their right hands to their chests, bowed, and chorused.

“Marhabtain!”

No one raised their heads after the exchange of greetings.

Ugh, I’m going to be bald, bald!

Black Mamba sighed and gave his blessings.

“My God be with you. You will be safe from enemies and free from diseases.”

Only then did they rise and crossed themselves. An old couple with white hair kneeled on the ground.

“Bismillah, may Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa be praised. I am the father of Amud Jamal, Abi Barjani Jamal.”

Black Mamba immediately grabbed the old man’s arms and held him back from bowing.

“Nice to meet you, Barjani. Be at ease.”

“Thank you. Thank you for returning my lost child. Although I am old, I want to dedicate the rest of my life by serving you, Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa.”

“It’s fine. Since Jamal has returned, welcome a daughter-in-law, and live out the rest of your life in peace.”

“Thank you. May Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa be praised. Bismillah!”

It took 10 minutes for them to be seated around the table. The food had nearly cooled down from all the greetings. Black Mamba shook his head. He was tired from following through the complicated Arabic greetings and mannerisms.

Syrian food was heavily influenced by France and Persia’s traditions. Their vegetable and fish dishes were developed with variations of poultry, sheep, and camel dishes. People in the Levant[1] region took light futurs[2]. However, to greet a special guest today, a feast was prepared.

Harees was camel rib soup boiled with beans, similar to the Korean galbitang. Musakhan was similar to the Korean spicy chicken stew. Mansaf was bean grains on top of rice, with chicken and thick sauce.

There was a massive amount of food served on the table. The meals were prepared for Black Mamba, who had a large appetite. Only men sat around the large table.

“Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa, let’s eat.”

Old man Alli loudly gestured to start eating.

“Bakri, call the women in.”

Black Mamba didn’t pick up his fork. Bakri understood immediately and assembled the women.

“Tislam[3]! Let’s eat together.”

“No, sir. Women only eat after men.”

Old man Alli tried to stop Black Mamba. Bakri’s family was more liberal than others but couldn’t escape the Arab world’s deep-seated traditions.

“Alli, Barjani, Bakri, and Jamal, hear my words. I, Ddu-bai-buru-pa, have explained this before. There is no human above another human and no human below another human. This is the same for men and women. I am a Korean from the East. Koreans considered those they share food with as family too. A family consists of people dining together. From now on, all family members will dine together.”

“Bismillah, by the words of Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa,” four men chorused.

Black Mamba thought that his own words were cringy, but it seemed like they could understand if he spoke in such a manner. He had no other way to fix their deep-rooted traditions that placed men first and women last.

The head of the household, old man Alli, awkwardly called over his wife and daughter-in-law to the table. Black Mamba lifted Wael and seated her next to him. Only then did Barjani’s wife take a seat. The ends of Black Mamba’s mouth curled upward. He certainly had what it took to become the head of a cult.

The meal started off carefully. Black Mamba’s stomach rumbled. He lifted a large camel rib and engulfed it all at once.

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“Kyahaha, Dubi! You’re a pig!”

When Wael laughed, the entire table turned silent. Knife fights were prone to break out when one called another a pig. Moreover, she had called Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa, a pig! The adults froze at the child’s insolent words.

“Wahaha, you’re right. Ajussi is a pig. Grunt grunt.” Black Mamba laughed and tore off a small piece of meat before putting it in Wael’s mouth.

The women’s faces brightened up. The men who were holding their breaths exhaled in relief.

The dining table soon grew cheerful because Black Mamba didn’t hold back his hearty appetite. Syria had been under the influence of France for a long time. Most adults knew how to speak French. They mainly talked about the disposition and traditions of the Syrians. Black Mamba deliberately avoided discussing the politics and affairs of Syria. In the first place, it was customary not to discuss politics and religion at the dining table.

Black Mamba was delighted. For a very long time, he’d been desperately wishing for a lively family dinner. He didn’t consider them as outsiders. Anyone who came under his protection was considered his family.

The desperate wish that he had been longing for was granted 1,000s of miles away in a countryside house in Syria.

“Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa, Malik Marwan and Ahmad have arrived. ”

Black Mamba released himself from the lotus position at Bakri’s voice. The breathing exercises helped improve his natural healing capacity according to the degree of his internal injuries. His shattered clavicle and femur fused back stronger.

“Bring them in here.”

A middle-aged man in his 50s and a young man in his early 30s kneeled outside the study.

“Assalamualaikum! May Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa be praised. Malik Marwan and his poor child greet you.”

Oh, my God, why do they keep doing this when I told them not to.

Black Mamba clicked his tongue internally.

“Come in.”

Black Mamba stared at the middle-aged man with wrinkles across his face and the young man who looked slightly past his teens. His face looked haggard, as though he’d gone through severe pain. He was told that the girl’s age was 18. The man, no matter how much he lowered it, was around his mid-30s.

50 points!

Black Mamba scored the young man as though he was picking out a son-in-law.

Hm?

Black Mamba’s eyes twinkled. He could feel an ancient aura specific to masters of martial arts from the young man. There had been no proper martial arts inheritance in the Middle East.

The Levant region suffered through a series of uprisings and terrible battles against the Mongolian horsemen, who had invaded like a tide in the past. Their fighting methods and martial arts disappeared without a trace as years passed. The magical assassination technique taught by the Old Man of the Mountain was also lost. They were too busy trying to survive the numerous external invasions and fighting among their tribes.

Boom—

He forwarded a hint of bloodlust toward the young man’s legs

Rustle—

Ahmad’s legs flinched. Black Mamba forwarded a hint of bloodlust toward his right shoulder. His right shoulder moved back slightly.

This one’s good.

He was a guy with inborn senses.

Boom—

He raised his bloodlust. The bloodlust almost evolved into a physical attack. Ahmad’s entire body shook back and forth. His face had turned blue, but he was still kneeling.

That’s someone with a strong mentality and tenacity.

The scores immediately went up. Fear usually overwhelmed the people on the receiving end of the bloodlust. They turned into a frog before a snake, and they turned into a mouse before a cat. Ahmad had endured the fear. The bloodlust retreated instantly.

Ughh, what a scary person.

He couldn’t even breathe due to fear and pressure. Ahmad looked at Black Mamba as his face got paler. His eyes were filled with awe.

“Ahmad, did you learn assassination techniques?”

“Ah! How did you know? I learned the Mamluk’s secrets when I was little, sir.”

Mamluk referred to the white slaves who had created the military elites of the Islamic society since the ninth century. The white slaves were the Kurds, Slavs, and Byzantines. They were raised to be soldiers and freed from slavery when they reached adulthood.

The sultans and caliphs preferred Mamluks because they had no religious backgrounds. They became the core of the Muslim militaries from the eighth century to the 16th century. Leaders from each faction selected a handful of Mamluks and raised them as assassins. They were the infamous Mamluk assassins.

“Mamluk? Did you acquire the Circassians’ inheritance?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Give me both of your hands.”

He grabbed both of Ahmad’s hands and projected his resonance, alternating between right and left. While the left side of his body was clear, there were several blocked pathways on the right side of his body.

“Are you left-handed? Your right shoulder and hip are injured.”

Ahmad and Malik’s eyes widened.

“May Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa be praised! Ahmad was originally right-handed. However, the right side of his body became paralyzed after he was run over by a bull in his youth. A member of our family knew the Mamluk’s secrets and managed to heal his paralysis, but his right hand ended up being dull. My son worked hard to become a left-hander.”

“Ahmad, how old are you?”

“I’m thirty-two, sir.”

Damn, this sneaky b*stard!

There was an age difference of nearly 14 years. According to martial arts novels, it was like a toad aiming for a duck. Black Mamba changed the title from “young man” to “young b*stard.” Black Mamba retracted his additional points.

“Ahmad, what is the name of the woman you love?”

“It’s Idia, sir.”

“Good, are you willing to put your life on the line for Idia?”

“If it’s to save Idia, I willingly offer my life, sir. If need be, I’ll attack the village this very night to rescue Idia.”

[1] It refers to a large area in the Eastern Mediterranean region of Western Asia.

[2] Breakfasts.

[3] Thank you!

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