Whoosh— The body of metal ascended gently off the ground. A wall separated the first class. A separate sink and table came with each seat. The ticket was obviously expensive because of the spacious seat and differentiated service. It was five to six times pricier than economy class. Black Mamba closed his eyes and endured his bleeding heart. He didn’t know what would have happened if Samedi was seated in the economy class. Just bumping into a passenger in the next seat alone could dislocate their shoulder. If he got into a fight with a passing passenger, that would spell disaster. Samedi shifted in his seat. “Samedi, stay still,” Black Mamba warned, his eyes still closed. Samedi, who was about to stand, collapsed back onto his seat. Samedi was a moving bomb in modern society. On the way to Singapore in Air France, he had broken his seat belt from just standing up. Black Mamba hadn’t been able to relax at all after that commotion. Samedi glanced at Black Mamba, then slowly moved closer to the window. With his large head shoved between the panels, he spaced out while watching the clouds and distant ground. Bang— Bang— Soon, he started knocking on the window with his palm. The window by the passenger seat was made of triple-layered acrylic sheet panels. The nine-millimeter thick outer panel was made to withstand pressure. The six-millimeter middle panel was made for frost protection, while the six-millimeter inner panel was made to block sound and protect passengers. With a single blow of Samedi’s fists, the six-millimeter reinforced sheet would easily shatter. “Samedi, you can’t knock on the window.” Samedi, who was under strict restriction, gathered his hands together and spaced out. Samedi’s mental state was that of a child between three to four years old. Although he showed signs of intelligence from time to time, those weren’t actions based on accurate analysis. Samedi was a mindless weapon, a child with immense strength. The human brain learned through stimulation and response. Samedi had spent at least 25 years of his life as a zombie. Even ordinary people would turn into a zombie if they lived in isolation for 25 years without external stimulation. Black Mamba looked at Samedi with sympathetic eyes. Despite escaping the zombie status, Black Mamba wondered if Samedi could live an ordinary life. He could only trust his teacher. If his teacher couldn’t return him to his original state, then modern medicine wouldn’t work either. Bored out of his mind, Samedi loudly snored his way to sleep. “This brat!” He smiled at Samedi’s childlike actions. Samedi had to be scolded and dragged along since he refused to be separated from Edel. Samedi’s ability to instinctively distinguish between the strong and the weak was impressive. Perhaps, he had felt a maternal affection from Edel. He was determined to turn Samedi back into a normal human at the tearful scene. A cold-blooded human, who had sliced 100s of people, showing compassion for a zombie? Even a cow would laugh at that. Relationships were unpredictable. Somehow, countryside boy Mu Ssang of the bridge village became the mercenary, Black Mamba. Azrael, who had killed countless people, was Mu Ssang himself, and Ddu-bai-buru-pa, who had saved countless people, was also Mu Ssang himself. One for all, and all for one! “I should send Bonipas a box of ginseng.” Bonipas had shown him the real deal when it came down to bargaining for advantage. While Black Mamba remained in the DGSE’s headquarters dorms, Bonipas went around kicking the paper-pushers’ butts. At Bonipas’ whining, the paper-pushers ran around to the point of exhaustion, like a deflated balloon. In three hours, Samedi’s citizenship would be in his hands. Two hours later, Samedi was issued the second level officer ID by the French Embassy in Korea. With the power of the national treasure, the paperwork proceeded at the speed of light. The DGSE, Ministry of Interior, and Ministry of Foreign Affairs instantly approved Novatopia’s border and wrapped up the registration of Samaria farm’s ownership under his name. They also provided additional equipment and technicians for the construction of Novatopia. A miracle occurred. The heavy paperwork would be completed in three days. Normally, it would have taken at least a year. France’s paperwork process, which was criticized for its incompetency, wasn’t so bad at all. There was a reason why France was among the first-world countries. With diplomatic passports, Mu Ssang and Samedi did not need a visa. Once they got out of the gate, they immediately grabbed a taxi and headed toward Jeong Dong. They were planning to stop by the French Embassy to be briefed on Korea’s affairs. On November 18, 1984, Mu Ssang returned to Chun Sung Temple. It had been three months and a fortnight since he left the temple, 105 days in total. A whole season had passed when it should have only taken him a week. He had faced an unexpected turn of events—he had to organize Samaria farm, deal with the chimeras and zombies that had threatened Novatopia, and look for aquifers. “It’s late fall!” He let out a deep sigh. No matter how well-off a person was, they were nothing more than an uninvited visitor to the changes of nature. The greenery had turned red upon his return. The time that had stopped in the Sahara Desert started running when he walked on Mt. Chun Saeng’s path. Black Mamba stopped before the gates of Chun Sung Temple. The gates were rooted to the spot as always. The place where his teacher resided was his hometown. As he stood before those gates, mercenary Black Mamba turned into Mu Ssang, no, the monk-in-training, Mu Ah. “My teacher should be well. Maybe he’ll be driving around in a Fiat Panda?” When Mu Ssang stepped past the gates, Samedi hesitated. “What’s wrong?” “It-is-scary.” Mu Ssang nodded. Samedi was an existence with heightened survival instincts. He could recognize strong people like a ghost. “He’s a good person. He’s someone who’ll turn you back into a human.” “Still-very-scary.” Samedi slowly stepped back. “Samedi, you need to be a human first before you can have a woman like Edel.” Samedi’s eyes flashed. “I-will-go.” A male’s instinct to preserve their species was unyielding. Teacher! The temple’s prayer room was left wide open despite the cold weather. A small old man who was holding onto something came into view. It was his teacher, who couldn’t be any more ordinary. “Teacher, Mu Ah has arrived. Have you been well?” Mu Ssang greeted before the stone steps. Monk Dae Woo, who had been whittling away at wood with a pocket knife, turned. Samedi, who was standing, immediately kneeled on the ground when he met his gaze. “What’s the point of a b

  stard, when have you ever starved? Well, you do eat a lot, I suppose. I was planning to beat you to your bones, but I’ll only see blood trying to fight against those objects. I’m not doing it, not at all.” “What about the stick you haven’t finished carving?” “Brat, can’t you tell? You need to finish it. Once you finish making a good chanting stick, you can come out of the prayer room. Carve it without touching it. I’m going to go ride on my favorite pony.” “But teacher, I barely have a month left until the national examinations.” “Shut up. How can you take the exams when you can’t even get rid of your own worries?” Monk Dae Woo headed out of the prayer room while spinning the car key around his thumb. A smile slowly crept up on Mu Ssang’s face. Teacher, you can’t leave until you hug your grandson. You should be in charge of the Purifying Cleanse if I do have children. Mu Ssang spent three days in the prayer room. The half-finished chanting stick his teacher had thrown at him was made of palm tree bark. Even Mu Ssang, whose strength was unmatched, couldn’t carve a tree without touching it. There was only one way, and that was to replicate blacky’s extremely-low frequency attack. That ended up a failure. The molecular structure of the palm tree bark was incomparable to water. Despite concentrating until his head ached, he couldn’t separate the ELF into two waves like blacky, or shove air into the frequency. He almost collapsed and ended up acknowledging blacky’s greatness after struggling for three days. Although he failed the task, there was progress elsewhere. Because he had focused all of his attention on the wooden stick, all of his worries disappeared. The 1,000s of terrorists and Syrian soldiers who had died in his hands, the Vodou religion, the chimeras, and the zombies—they all disappeared. Even Edel remained as a distant longing, and Novatopia’s problems were slowly being forgotten. “Kuaaaagh-” A powerful scream shook the temple. Distracted, Mu Ssang opened the door and stepped outside. Samedi was hanging upside down on a thick pine tree bark in the front yard. Vrrrr— The buzzing of bees was heard. A black mass flew in from afar. As the mass got closer, the sound of rain was heard. “Uwooo!” Samedi’s face was tainted with fear. 100s of rocks ranging from the size of acorns to the size of a fist rained down on him. “Ha!” monk Dae Woo shouted. Splat— The rocks landed on the dark body relentlessly. “Kueeeee-” A long scream alongside the sounds of impact rang. “Woah, it’s Psychokinesis!” It was his teacher’s specialty, Psychokinesis. Mu Ssang, who had experienced Psychokinesis before, shook his head. His teacher could easily shatter a tank with it if he wanted to. “Hui!” Rumble— The rocks wrapped around the dark body as though it was massaging it. The sound of blood splattering and bones shattering continued. “Kuoooo!” Samedi’s head dropped to his chest. Blood stopped flowing, and his torn skin started to heal. Mu Ssang nodded his head as he watched. The response was similar to the chimeras he had destroyed at the Lakes of Ounianga. “Did you finish carving the stick?” “Not at all. There’s no reason to continue the task since teacher’s aim is your disciple’s mind and not the wood. Hehehe!” “Never have I seen such a brat. Are you trying to read my mind now that your head’s grown thicker? You want to try out this level of Psychokinesis, hm?” Monk Dae Woo glared. “Ugh, teacher, don’t work yourself too hard.” “Shut up. What’s the point of telling me that when you’ve given me a task? B

  stard.” He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve as though he wasn’t joking at all.