C12 In The Battlefield

Those words echoed in his mind as Jagat Wengi reentered the room of the main building. The condition was chaotic. Blood was scattered on the floor, with the bed and wardrobe shifted from their original positions.

To provide illumination inside, he reluctantly reignited the torch with a lighter brought by one of the Poison Kala gang members.

Sangkih mentioned that the book was under the mattress. If that was true, there must be some sort of small opening to store it.

He slowly moved the mattress aside, this time without fear or worry of being discovered. Jagat Wengi paid no attention to the creaking sound of the four legs of the bed scraping against the floor.

He picked up the machete left by the Poison Kala gang. Tapping its handle on the floor to distinguish its sound. He pressed his ear against the floor, ensuring his hearing wouldn't fail him.

After several taps, he finally noticed a distinct difference. This spot on the floor sounded hollow, not solid as if there was a cavity inside.

With strength and speed, he swung the machete, driving it into the wooden floor repeatedly, creating a wide-open hole. Jagat Wengi reached his hand inside, feeling around and sensing something moving.

"Ouch!"

A drop of blood trickled from his fingertips. He double-checked by slightly extending his eyes downward.

"Damn it!" Jagat Wengi cursed his own foolishness. The bite came from a small mouse underneath.

The hole he made was still too small to retrieve the item inside. He swung his machete again, tearing the wood apart to enlarge the hole and reveal its contents.

There was a brown square box inside. Apparently, earlier, Jagat Wengi had reached into the wrong hole, explaining why he didn't find anything.

He lifted the box, as long as his hand to his forearm, slowly to avoid damaging its contents. Paper is delicate when stored in an improper place. It can be devoured by termites or decay due to age. However, it seemed that this wood was made of termite-resistant material, perhaps teak or ironwood.

He then opened the box and found several rolls of paper and a neatly stitched book, combining the papers within.

As a cover, thick paper made from wood pulp was chosen to hold the papers inside.

Written on the cover was "Book of Sawung Bumi."

So this is what Poison Kala was after, sending dozens of members. At first glance, he opened it and saw various martial arts techniques taught in the Sawung Bumi school.

However, Jagat Wengi was more interested in the scroll next to it. He opened it and read a long inscription, perhaps belonging to the grandmaster of Sawung Bumi.

Jagat Wengi began to read.

"Power always finds a replacement, but the ruler will never be replaced. They are like a river that flows from its source to the estuary until it meets the vast ocean.

Even though the power has ceased, even if the river's flow stops, it doesn't mean the ruler has died. They create a new flow and form other tributaries until they reunite with the vast ocean.

Majapahit is the vast ocean of these tributaries scattered in various lands. Kediri won't survive. It is merely mud that will dry under the scorching sun."

After finishing reading the contents of the parchment, he opened another scroll. It turned out to contain messages and impressions from the grandmaster of Sawung Bumi regarding the recent situation in the kingdom.

These were like personal notes and, of course, confidential and secretive. Otherwise, these scrolls wouldn't have been combined with the sacred book.

Jagat Wengi couldn't determine where he should take these book and scrolls, but he had to leave this place immediately. He opened the wardrobe and took a piece of cloth, transferring the contents of the box into it.

The day was already progressing towards midnight. He had to leave as soon as possible and rethink his future plans. From the Sabrang Panuluh book to the Book of Sawung Bumi, these two dramas in his life had troubled his soul and mind.

If only he hadn't saved the commander's wife and rescued Sangkih, he wouldn't have experienced these events. Captured by the Mongols and now becoming an enemy of Poison Kala.

His steps hurriedly chased after time. After being bitten by the small mouse, his emotions continued to stir. There was a lingering discomfort that he knew too well. But it seemed to happen when, two steps after leaving the main entrance of the building, his back was struck by a hard beam, causing him to lose consciousness.

His vision instantly blurred. Before everything turned dark and black. His eyes briefly captured two human figures approaching his body.

He felt the jolting of a horse-drawn carriage and heard some conversations from the coachmen in front of him. But his eyes were too weak to open, and all the joints in his body were sore and immovable.

Jagat Wengi once again lost consciousness, and time seemed to move quickly for him as he woke up amidst a pile of human corpses. His eyes opened, startled by the sight around him. The number was countless. His head still felt dizzy trying to comprehend the situation.

The fallen bodies resembled heaps of dry leaves. He tried to lift his head, but it felt so heavy that he could only manage to turn his prone body. He looked up at the blue sky, regaining his awareness to get up.

While waiting for his body to regain full consciousness, his eyes glanced towards the unfamiliar piles of corpses. The clothing looked familiar, but where?

These were not the battle armor of Kediri, but...

Mongol soldiers!

From somewhere, Jagat Wengi mustered the strength and found himself sitting, as if unable to believe what he was witnessing—the pile of Mongol soldiers' corpses.

He tapped his forehead as if trying to dispel the headache. How long had he been unconscious? Was it time already?

His head felt numb, but his mind kept recalling the conversation between two Majapahit warriors who had visited Sangkih.

In the blink of an eye, the horsemen suddenly leaped out from the dense foliage, passing by Jagat Wengi. Behind them, dozens of cavalry horses, laden with combat experience, moved in formation.

A rain of arrows immediately flew towards the horse formation, bringing down several soldiers. Jagat Wengi still couldn't fully grasp the events unfolding before him.

But he had already surmised that the previous formation belonged to Javanese warriors, based on their battle attire, and the arrows originating from a distant point belonged to their enemies.

The war cries mixed with the clashing of weapons echoed in his ears.

If the previous formation of Majapahit horsemen came from behind, now the ground beneath him trembled as the Mongol cavalry advanced to attack.

They came at high speed, attacking in small units that surrounded the Majapahit horsemen from behind. But soon, balls of fire erupted from the sky, targeting the Majapahit forces from the front.

Already besieged from behind by the horsemen, now they had to face Mongol cannons. The situation was terrifying. Jagat Wengi was not a seasoned warrior accustomed to warfare. With great effort, he stood up, intending to escape from this unfamiliar battlefield.

He staggered towards the left side of the pile of corpses.

"Ah!" There was a brief moment of pain, then no feeling at all, only a dizzy sensation as if his body was an incredibly heavy mound of stone.

Suddenly, a Mongol warrior on horseback charged towards him with a spear, aiming to finish him off. Jagat Wengi was too weak to defend himself, let alone attack. He had to act quickly to avoid dying foolishly here.

But once again, fortune smiled upon him. Blood gushed from the Mongol's chest, causing him to tumble down from his horse.

Jagat Wengi's rescuer came to retrieve his spear, which was embedded in the Mongol's chest. With a smile, he spoke to Jagat Wengi.

"Which unit are you from? Why are we separated like this? Get on the horse!"

Filled with fear and still dizzy, Jagat Wengi obeyed without question. The horse swiftly cut through the wind, heading towards the forefront of the battlefield.

Balls of fire continued to rain down from the sky, emanating from the tubes mounted by the Mongol forces on the shore.

What?? Jagat Wengi couldn't believe what he saw for the second time. He was indeed at the seaside.

"Sir! Where are we?" Jagat Wengi dared to ask his rescuer.

"You must be crazy if you don't know where we are. We're in Tuban. We can't let those Mongols escape to their homeland. Hiyah!"

Some of the Mongol forces appeared disorganized, leaving the land to reach their boats, which would take them to the large ships at sea.

The remaining forces had to endure the searing pain of sword slashes and spear thrusts into their bodies.

The right flank of the Mongol cavalry that had advanced earlier fought valiantly, breaking through the barricade of the Majapahit forces.

"Hold on!"

Fearlessly, Jagat Wengi's rescuer pursued the cavalry forces. It was as if he ignored the burden of the person he had saved, sitting behind him on the horse.

He continued to run and run, spear raised high in his right hand, targeting one of the Mongol warriors.

*Wuuth!

The spear swiftly flew through the air. Jagat Wengi could sense that this spear was not propelled by ordinary human strength. There was a gathered inner power behind it.

His rescuer was no ordinary person. He was not just an ordinary warrior, not merely a Bekel. Perhaps he was a Panewu or even a Rakryan Tumenggung.

"Hiyah!"

Suddenly, his rescuer leaped up, engaging three Mongols who had run ahead, leaving their horses behind. Jagat Wengi was pushed forward because, from the beginning, his body had been leaning against his rescuer's back.

He was left alone on the horse, in the midst of a war he never understood the origin of. Danger lurked as three Mongols approached from behind, ready to take his life.