Chapter 2: Deceptive Paths
As if suddenly realizing something, the figure wrapped tightly in a cloak, with only a pair of bright eyes visible, suddenly turned its gaze toward the woods not far behind the knights. It was a dark oak forest, with unknown vines occasionally visible, clinging to the tall trunks of the oaks and emitting a strange aura. Even under such bright sunlight, the gloom and darkness of the forest could still be felt.
The sensitive middle-aged knight also sensed the foul stench coming from deep within the forest—a scent unique to undead creatures. For them, Holy Knights who believed in light, this scent was the most detestable and hateful of all.
The figure wrapped in the cloak quietly extended its left hand, which had been hidden beneath its clothes. It was a remarkably slender wrist, with the thumb tightly clasped around the index and middle fingers, resembling a finely carved jade artifact shining in the sunlight. A white glow, the size of a pigeon egg, began to form at the tips of the fingers, quickly turning into a sphere of light. The index and middle fingers snapped apart abruptly, and the light sphere shot like an arrow into the dark forest. With a dull thud, a sound came from deep within the forest, followed by a series of cracking noises as bones shattered. Eventually, everything returned to deathly silence.
Staring in astonishment at this tightly wrapped figure, the middle-aged knight was filled with awe. The Holy Sound Magic of this Inquisitor had reached such a level—capable of creating a tangible light sphere without even reciting spells. It seemed the Inquisitor’s mastery had reached the Furnace Stage. He really needed to work harder, otherwise he would fall further behind in his mastery of holy magic.
Having effortlessly dealt with those annoying undead creatures without any unnecessary actions, the figure moved like a silent ghost, disappearing from sight in an instant. Before anyone could even see its movement, it had already vanished miles away, leaving only the faint traces of its flowing robes visible.
The middle-aged knight gazed enviously at the figure soaring into the air. Such mastery of terrestrial flight required not only a high level of wind magic skills but also depended on one’s natural talent—not everyone could reach such heights. Lord Jiaye, who was rarely seen, truly had achievements in this area that could make anyone at the same level feel ashamed. The middle-aged knight thought he was no less powerful than the Guardian of the Faith, but he admitted he was far inferior to those holy warriors who dedicated themselves to spiritual cultivation. After all, he had many more important things to do, and the difference in strength didn’t lie solely in spiritual cultivation.
Seeing his subordinates still in awe, the middle-aged knight shook his head, mounted his horse, waved his hand sharply, and snapped, “Let’s go! Stop embarrassing ourselves here. If we all work hard, it’s not impossible to reach the level of the Guardian of the Faith!”
The roaring thunderhorse raised a cloud of dust, and in an instant, more than a dozen riders disappeared into the distance, leaving only two knights to handle the aftermath. They meticulously turned over the soil around, silently burying the troublesome body that had taken them nearly half a month of effort.
When the figures of the last two knights finally vanished on the distant horizon, everything seemed to calm down. The dark oak forest, the barren hills—even the scorching sunlight seemed gloomy. Everything appeared desolate and beautiful, as if not a trace of life existed.
As time passed, a sound finally came from deep within the forest. Through the dark gaps between the trees, it seemed possible to faintly see movement beneath a pile of decaying branches and leaves under a large tree. With a rustling sound, a human-shaped figure staggered to its feet and stumbled toward the edge of the forest.
As it moved closer to the forest’s edge, the true appearance of this human-shaped figure became clear. It wasn’t a monstrous humanoid but indeed a person—a young man with a fairly decent face. However, blood seeping from the corners of his eyes, mouth, and nostrils ruined his otherwise handsome features. His very luxurious but tattered robe was covered in dead branches, leaves, and dirt, indicating his dire condition.
Spitting out a thick clump of phlegm mixed with traces of blood, the young man finally reached the area outside the forest where the knights had been earlier. He stretched lazily and then spat contemptuously into the distance: “Damn it, are they just a few Ramaknight soldiers? Is it worth being so arrogant? I swear by any god other than the God of Light—someday, I’ll get back every bit of this insult a hundredfold!”
After taking a few deep breaths, the young man seemed to sense something. He brushed away the fallen leaves and dirt from his head and shook off his tattered robe before lowering his head to examine the pit in the ground that the knights had just filled in. It was at the forest’s edge that he had witnessed the Templars of the Holy Church killing the thief, now a corpse, buried in the soil—scaring him to death. He quickly fled deep into the forest. Fortunately, he had been careful enough to transfer his life force to his pet. Yet, that sound-wave magic attack was so powerful it nearly destroyed him despite his hiding in the soil. If it weren’t for his quick wits in using earth-dissolving magic to neutralize the aftereffects, he might have been trapped in that damned soil for life.
Even so, the internal injuries he suffered wouldn’t heal in a day or two, and he didn’t know how much it would cost to treat them. Thinking of this, he couldn’t help cursing himself for being as stupid as a pig for transferring his life force to his necrotic pet and suffering that holy sound magic attack. From that unseen envoy of the Light Church to his necrotic pet, and then to the corpse lying underground, he cursed endlessly before finally calming down. Due to his agitation, blood from his nostrils dripped down his lips, staining his already torn robe with colorful spots.
As if remembering something, the young man carefully took out an old-fashioned pouch from his pocket. Made of some unknown material, it was dark grayish-green, covered with faint runes, and tied shut with a rough braided string, looking extremely crude.
With a gentle shake and silent incantations, the pouch suddenly swelled to twice its size, and its opening moved on its own as if something was about to burst out. But to his surprise, the opening only trembled strangely without anything coming out. His face turned pale, and in frustration, he kept chanting spells, yet the pouch remained unchanged.
Despair appeared on the young man’s face as he had no choice but to reach into his bag and fumble around. He pulled out a shattered miniature skeleton, its bones broken into more than a dozen fragments. Seeing his most beloved pet reduced to such a state by that destructive sound wave, the young man staggered, nearly fainting. This was a treasure he had painstakingly unearthed from an ancient battlefield. Though it was old, it was still a high-level warrior, its body strengthened by his own magic, making it highly combat-effective enough to lead him into battle. But then again, thinking of this, he couldn’t help but curse that unknown guardian of the Light Church for destroying his most important pet and companion, forcing him back to square one. Even this highly valued warrior had been shattered into pieces, not to mention the two weaker skeleton warriors in the bag, who were likely completely destroyed. Feeling as if all his strength had been drained, the young man collapsed to the ground, staring blankly at the scorching sun in the sky. His body suddenly grew icy cold, as if unable to feel even a trace of warmth from the sun. He couldn’t move. All the skills he had painstakingly learned and the few victories he had achieved were now reduced to fragments by some despicable guy he had never even seen. Was his ability and strength really that weak? He felt as if his life was slowly withering away. How much money and effort would it take to find more capable warriors like these? Suddenly, as if remembering something, he got up from the ground and rushed toward a nearby pit like a fly drawn to rotting meat. Wasn’t this a perfect test subject? Although those Ramma knights said this guy was a thief, a thief who could make them all chase after him surely wasn’t some weakling. With renewed vigor, ignoring his severe injuries, he immediately picked up a branch and started digging frantically.
Perhaps the knights were too lazy, or perhaps driven by endless enthusiasm; in just the time it takes to smoke a cigarette, the soil and grass covering their bodies were hastily removed by the young man. The corpses lying face up in the pit appeared so peaceful, their originally fair faces now turned into a strange golden hue, and even the soil scattered on their faces could not conceal this peculiar gold color.