Chapter 280

In the semi-plane filled with ancient texts, silence descended all at once.

The Ash Bishop fell silent, pondered, doubted, then grew bewildered.

Huh? Hmm, oh… Huh?

She lifted her head, her eyes beneath the hood's shadow fixed on Herbert, questioning whether she had misheard.

Is this guy serious?

"Cough… yes."

The Ash Bishop cleared her throat forcefully and added: "Child, perhaps you didn't hear clearly—I said I can answer any question you have."

Worried Herbert didn't grasp the weight of those words, she could only reluctantly explain:

"That means you may ask me any question—any at all. Do you understand?"

"Whether it's ancient legends lost to the river of time, obscure knowledge whispered in hidden corners, or secrets even the gods refuse to speak of—if I know it, I will tell you."

As the eldest Cardinal of the Mist Monastery, she guarded its most precious treasure—knowledge.

Compared to tangible objects, intangible knowledge was the truest wealth.

Outsiders did not know that within the vault inaccessible to all, the Ash Bishop—who knew every single piece of knowledge inside—was the greatest treasure of all.

Now, she stared at Herbert and spoke slowly:

"Child, you must have many things you cannot understand, riddles in your heart that refuse to be solved, doubts you cannot let go."

The Ash Bishop clenched her teeth, exasperated: "You… you're really sure you want to ask that?"

Ask me why I walk without sound… isn't this nonsense?

Ask me about knowledge!

Ask quickly!

After hearing this earnest explanation, Herbert remained unsurprisingly silent.

"…"

He frowned, lowering his head, as if pondering how best to use this precious opportunity.

Herbert remained silent for a long while, then slowly raised his head and gave the Ash Bishop a gentle nod.

"Phew… it seems you've finally understood." The Ash Bishop exhaled in relief.

Of course, this child was merely confused for a moment—he's still sensible.

"Yes, I've understood."

Just as the Ash Bishop believed Herbert had finally grasped it, he spoke decisively:

"I still want to ask my previous question—why do you walk without sound?"

The Ash Bishop:?

She clenched her fists, determined to see through every eye what chaotic thoughts filled this man's mind.

Herbert stood calmly before her, facing her glare with serene, unwavering resolve, his gaze unshaken.

The air in the semi-plane froze completely; only the faint glow of countless texts flickered, illuminating the silence between them.

Beneath the hood, the Ash Bishop's brow furrowed, the shadows deepening.

Her long fingers, clad in silk gloves, moved unconsciously, tracing the serpent-like engravings on the hilt.

The cold touch of her fingertips seemed to remind her that what unfolded before her was no illusion.

Over the years, she had discovered dozens of gifted children and granted them the same gift—a chance to ask her any question.

Among those promising saplings, though most perished along the way, some became legends, and even one crossed the threshold of epic.

The Ash Bishop had never encountered such a question—no, this wasn't even a question at all; it felt more like… a challenge?

Is he challenging me?

"... Hah."

Realizing this, the mysterious Cardinal shook her head with a faint smile, gazing at the calm, white-haired boy before her.

Though displeased, her voice now carried a hint of amusement as she asked slowly: "So this is your question? You won't change it? Are you certain you won't regret it in the future?"

The Ash Bishop's voice was soft, yet its vibrations stirred the very power within the semi-plane.

Rustle—rustle—rustle—

Tens of thousands of texts flipped open, their sound roaring like a storm's downpour crashing from the sky.

There was no wind, no rain in the semi-plane—but immense pressure crashed down like a tidal wave.

Legendary?

No.

Higher than that!

It was a rank only those worthy of leaving their mark in the annals of time could touch.

Though both were Cardinals, this ancient being far surpassed the ever-changing Inquisitor Generals and Knight Captains in power.

This one who had crossed into the Epic!

Beneath the crushing pressure, the boy's expression did not change; he gave a slight nod.

"Mm. I won't change it."

Herbert nodded seriously, his voice low: "Please tell me the answer."

Speak!

Reveal the truth to me!

In the semi-plane, the Epic powerhouse and the reckless boy locked gazes, the thunderous rustling of turning pages echoing around them.

Silent. Facing off… the storm was coming.

But just as the invisible pressure grew unbearable, threatening to bend the boy's spine and force him to bow his head, all sound vanished.

The sound of turning pages vanished instantly, and the demiplane returned to stillness.

In the silence, only a sigh-like, weary chuckle echoed.

"……hehe."

The Ash Bishop shook his head, sighing with a touch of headache: "... you child, you're truly persistent—and bold."

Why are you so curious about me?

Is that any of your business?

Why dwell on such things?

Really...

After being asked this offensive question, the Ash Bishop was initially angry, thinking this fellow was a disobedient troublemaker.

But when she saw Herbert withstand her pressure without yielding, holding firm through sheer will, she began to appreciate his talent.

A obedient sapling is certainly delightful, making one eager to water and fertilize it, helping it grow strong.

Yet the future of such a nurtured sapling is limited.

A genius with self-will, steadfast in his beliefs, has far greater potential to achieve unexpected results.

Even if... this genius's beliefs are misguided, it doesn't diminish his precious quality.

If others are rare treasures, Herbert is a once-in-a-millennium masterpiece.

The Ash Bishop values talent.

She would never destroy such a precious jade and fine timber in her own hands.

Especially after she once glimpsed in Herbert a future that intrigued her, she looked forward to his future more than anyone else.

As for Herbert's future choices... she was curious!

For a genius like this, a few small quirks are utterly harmless.

If the child wants to ask, let him ask.

After all, it's not a big deal.

The Ash Bishop shook her head in resignation for a while, then turned to Herbert, who was waiting expectantly.

"Regarding your question, I can indeed tell you the truth."

"The answer is... I have no legs."

She took one step forward, yet no footsteps sounded, only the soft rustle of her red robe.

"No legs, naturally, means no footsteps."

Footsteps?

If you have no legs, naturally there are none.

Like a magic rod that doesn't need to worry about vibration without magical energy, or a bald chef who has no trouble with a chef's hat, or an athlete without sportsmanship who needn't follow certain rules...

Some things, once gone, simply don't cause trouble anymore.

After saying these two sentences, the Ash Bishop fell silent.

Herbert:?

He blinked, signaling her to continue, but she paid him no mind, still waiting quietly.

He waited a moment longer, then couldn't help asking: "... uh, that's it?"

That's all?

I took off my pants, and this is what you show me?

Say it in more detail!

Why don't you have legs?

You're not a eunuch, so where's the rest?

Then let me ask you—where's the rest?

Why is the rest gone!

"Gone."

The Ash Bishop's reply was crisp and clean; she chuckled lightly, then asked casually: "What's wrong? Is my answer somehow problematic?"

Problem?

You're asking me?

Isn't this just asking a question you already know the answer to!!?

Though Herbert very much wanted to voice this accusation, pressured by her faintly sharp gaze, he chose a gentler approach.

Of course, Herbert chose this precisely out of love and respect for his elder—absolutely not because he feared being struck.

He cleared his throat twice, then ventured cautiously: "Um... you didn't quite finish, did you?"

No legs—I get it.

And then?

Fu Leimei has no legs either, but hers are a fish tail.

What about you?

Are you a legless ghost? Or some kind of creature?

This is the real point I'm asking!

Herbert was certain she understood his implication perfectly—yet she gave such a dismissive answer, clearly refusing to reveal the truth.

But the problem is—weren't you the one who said you'd tell me everything!!?

How can you lie to me!

"Hehe~"

The Ash Bishop chuckled, his voice brimming with delight, smiling lazily at Herbert.

"I did say I'd answer you, but… I never said I'd answer you completely, did I?"

"Moreover, I never guaranteed that my answer would be true, did I?"

The Ash Bishop meant—don't ask good questions, and I won't give good answers.

"You have a problem with that?"

What, you want to throw down?

???

Huh? Oh… ah?

Herbert raised an eyebrow, surprised—but not angry… rather, he felt a flicker of delight.

Good, good, good!

You want to play games, is that it?

He nodded, his lips twitching, murmuring softly with amusement: "So that's how it is… yes, you never said any of that… heh."

After wandering the world so long, I've finally met a worthy opponent.

This one is even more interesting than he looks!

Though the Ash Bishop is considerably older than the Inquisitor General and the others, his mental age may well be younger—not more mature, perhaps even much younger.

At least, Herbert could not imagine the Rust Nail Bishop teasing him with a smirk.

Damn it—just thinking about it made Herbert's skin crawl!

Do none of the old fools in this Mist Monastery hold to strict orthodoxy?

Huh.

Seems like none do.

"When the top beam is crooked, the bottom one sags…"

Though this old fool playing mind games with juniors was hard to accept, once Herbert thought of the elders above him, he instantly let go of his irritation.

With the Grand Bishop—a boundless joker of an elder—standing up front, the Ash Bishop's behavior… wasn't so hard to swallow after all.

This is ordinary, just monastery tradition—nothing strange about it.

"Cough. Cough."

After sorting it all out, Herbert cleared his throat twice, gritted his teeth, and nodded resignedly.

"Understood. I understand completely."

He stared at the Ash Bishop, who radiated "total victory" from every pore, and pinched his nose as he accepted defeat in this round.

Fine.

This time, I'll let you win.

I was careless, didn't dodge—it's my fault. But next time, you'd better wait.

Endure! (Dragon King covering face. JPG)

Herbert had planned to use this chance to uncover the mysteries surrounding the Ash Bishop, so he could decide how to treat her.

But he hadn't expected her to be nothing like the type he'd assumed—she'd laughed, patted his head, and mocked him.

Damn it.

Herbert took a deep breath, fixed his gaze on her, and said slowly: "You're truly unexpected, Your Grace."

The Ash Bishop clearly caught his implied meaning, grinning as she nodded: "Young man, same to you—you've surprised me too."

After this exchange, both had gained new insights into each other.

In Herbert's eyes, this mysterious Cardinal had been firmly placed in the "joker elder" category—a creature not to be taken lightly.

In the Ash Bishop's eyes, she saw in this promising youth something more intriguing than his uncertain future.

In that moment, as they locked gazes, both felt an inexplicable surge of battle lust.

Herbert gave a slight bow—yet it was, in truth, a challenge: This round doesn't count. Next time, we fight again!

And the Ash Bishop? She nodded lightly.

She accepted the challenge gladly.

Little one, you think you can beat me?

You're still too young, my dear~

If you want to try? Then come~ heh.

"Heh."

"Hehehe…"

They stared at each other, laughing strangely for a while, then simultaneously returned to normal.

"Your Grace, I do have a question I wish to ask you."

Herbert seemed to have entirely forgotten the previous exchange, asking seriously: "I'd like to know—if I wish to train in the Shadowlands, what should I watch out for?"

In response to this "unorthodox" second question, the Ash Bishop nodded calmly, not refusing his inquiry.

"You wish to go to the Shadowlands?"

She slowly repeated his words, her voice echoing through the empty half-dimension, sighing: "For you now, that place is far from safe."

Yet she did not ask why he wished to train there; after a moment's thought, she gave her answer.

"First, the Shadowlands are shrouded in perpetual darkness; except for a few areas where luminous plants thrive, most places are pitch-black."

"Raising a light source in darkness is tantamount to announcing your position—unless absolutely necessary, avoid exposing yourself; you may draw unexpected enemies."

"So you must first master blind combat techniques—this requires long training… but for you, this shouldn't be a difficult skill."

She never doubted Herbert's talent.

For others, blind combat is a skill requiring vast time and training to master, but for him… it probably wouldn't take a month.

Yet the truth was even more astonishing than the Ash Bishop had imagined.

A month?

One second!

Herbert had already solved the greatest problem for others.

Can't see in the dark?

What does that have to do with me, a handsome youth with night vision?

Seeing Herbert's confidence, the Ash Bishop assumed he was merely confident and didn't think further, continuing:

"Second, you need to prepare essential items for exploration."

"The Shadowy Region lies underground, composed of countless tunnels and caverns, with complex and ever-changing terrain; the vertical differences between layers are extreme. Outsiders without local guides who become trapped there will find it nearly impossible to find their way out."

"So, you need either a map, or a guide who carries the map in his mind."

As she spoke, the Ash Bishop pointed a finger, and the floating books above descended, landing before Herbert.

"These are the terrain maps from the past two hundred years down to fifty years ago; anything older holds no reference value."

"As for the most recent ones… you'll have to find them yourself. I recall the monastery has a knight squad that operates constantly in the Shadowy Region—they likely have more detailed maps."

At this point, the Ash Bishop hesitated; she was well-versed in ancient secrets, but recent events of the past century were less clear to her.

Was the knight squad formed twenty years ago? Or thirty?

Whatever, it was more or less around that time.

Whether that squad still existed, the Ash Bishop wasn't certain.

Anyway, in a few decades, she'd know the outcome.

"Also, the caves conceal various dangerous monsters: Dark Elves, Cave Dwarves, Dark Werewolves, Underground Spiders… they're accustomed to ambushing intruders in darkness—you must remain vigilant at all times."

"To guard against their ambushes, you first need to acquire knowledge about them, to understand their habits."

Whoosh—

Several more books flew in, automatically opening to pages concerning the Shadowy Region.

"Pay special attention to the Dark Elves—never enter their cities lightly."

"As a branch split from the ancient Elves, they still possess the skill to craft large-scale arrays… though most have been lost, their power remains formidable."

Elf arrays?

Upon hearing this, Herbert's heart sank, and he slowly nodded, thinking deeply.

He suddenly understood why Svanie could reverse-control the Sealing Technique array on the third level—because the Dark Elves themselves were masters of this art, with ancient lineage.

As for not entering Dark Elf cities… he'd treat it as wind passing through one ear and out the other.

In one ear, out the other.

After all, his own "ultimate goal" wasn't just to enter—they were to hunt down the city's lord.

Just imagining it, he knew the Dark Elves would never let him live.

After a moment's thought, the Ash Bishop raised another crucial point:

"By the way, the magical aura in the Shadowy Region is extremely chaotic, saturated with corrupt magic—it severely interferes with spellcasting."

"Except for native races, even legendary mages may fail to control their spells accurately, and could even suffer backlash from the magic itself."

"If you plan to seek companions, I advise you not to bring any spellcasters—there, it's an extremely dangerous place for them."

Herbert already knew this; the Shadowy Region was also called "the Spellcaster's Forbidden Zone."

Unless forced by dire necessity, spellcasters avoided it entirely.

This gave native races like the Dark Elves, who possessed spellcasters, a massive advantage over outsiders.

As everyone knows, noble mages are usually outmatched in close combat.

In the most tragic cases, melee fighters never even get close enough to reach the spellcasters, only enduring relentless ranged attacks.

But this wasn't really a major problem.

Herbert himself wasn't a spellcaster, and the accomplice he planned to bring—Young Lady Svanie—was a native spellcaster through and through.

The chaotic magic that troubled outsiders felt like home to her—literally home.

It was a pity the Mermaid Lady couldn't join this party; she'd have to leave in regret.

Herbert wouldn't let her risk it.

After waiting a moment to give Herbert time to think, the Ash Bishop delivered her final warning:

"And most importantly… your holy power is far too radiant."

She shifted perspective, viewing Herbert through a special sight, and couldn't help clicking her tongue, shaking her head slightly.

There was no denying—it was simply… too bright.

Though Herbert hadn't yet entered the legendary realm, the purity of his holy power rivaled that of ordinary legendary paladins.

Even surpassed them!

She saw at a glance that his holy power had long reached the level of Holy Mark Manifestation.

"To those hiding in darkness, your holy power shines like a torch—easily drawing the attention of dangerous creatures."

"Therefore, you need a method to conceal your aura—either a special magical artifact, a unique blessing, or failing that, some kind of seal or curse."

The Ash Bishop offered no specific method; she believed that if Herbert intended to go there, he'd already prepared accordingly.

"Lastly, food is scarce there—bring plenty of preserved rations. Water isn't scarce, though; paladins can purify water—just find any pond and drink."

After elaborating at length with many additional details, the Ash Bishop finally fell silent.

She gazed at the boy now frowning slightly, and smiled gently: "So, after hearing all this, do you still wish to go there for training?"

Upon hearing the question, Herbert slowly raised his head, gazing at the Ash Bishop—whose face he couldn't see, but whose smile he could feel.

The boy also revealed a candid, clear smile.

He said:

"I'm not telling you, heh↑ heh↓!"

Ash Bishop:?

(End of chapter)