Chapter 301: Identity (42K)

Lord Fa Ao: Huh?

I can't accept this!

This this this… this is!!?

At this moment, Lord Fa Ao's mind was in chaos.

As a knight who wished to follow Herbert, he desperately wanted to accept the item bestowed by Lord Herbert, but this thing… it couldn't possibly be a ring.

This object carries special meaning!

As an ultra-traditionalist among traditionalists, Lord Fa Ao, whose thinking was overly conservative in every aspect, still could not accept this gift.

"My lord, I, uh, you… this simply won't do!"

Lord Fa Ao took a deep breath and struggled to speak: "My lord, this truly won't do!"

Due to his prior impressions, Herbert didn't overthink Lord Fa Ao's panic, assuming only that he didn't want to accept such a valuable item.

So Herbert winked轻松ly and smiled: "Take it. Don't refuse. It's merely an identity."

But Lord Fa Ao, already overthinking, became even more panicked after hearing this.

Huh?

Identity?

No no no.

An identity is even less acceptable!

Lord Fa Ao had heard rumors about nobles' peculiar tastes: some preferred the opposite sex, some preferred the same sex, and some liked both…

He couldn't even comprehend such preferences, let alone respect them.

"My lord, uh, this… this really won't work!"

Though Lord Fa Ao deeply respected Herbert, he simply could not accept this demand.

Traditionalist knights don't do this sort of thing!

Just as Lord Fa Ao was about to spell it out clearly, Herbert's voice drifted softly over.

"Resettling these people requires not only firm conviction and sufficient strength—you also need a convenient identity to operate under."

"This is the outer region of the Shadowlands; most factions here belong to the Evil Alliance."

Herbert said lightly: "The monastery's identity is inconvenient to reveal; even if we truly unveiled it, some might not recognize it… but a noble's identity is different."

"Nobles have money, and few evil factions will turn down money."

What is the purpose of evil factions?

Some are the evil god's earthly pawns, secretly carrying out His subtle schemes.

Others merely gather to indulge their dark desires, banding together to resist pursuit by the Justice Alliance.

But most evil factions have only one primary mission—making money.

Make money! Make money! And damn it, make money!

They earn profits through all kinds of dark means, then spend those profits to grow stronger, thereby earning even greater gains… endlessly cycling.

The world isn't simply black or white.

People aligned with Justice or Evil don't automatically brawl to the death when they meet—don't count the high-ranking knights.

Even pure Justice sometimes turns a blind eye for special reasons.

Even if, hypothetically, your identities were exposed, it wouldn't matter—as long as you pay!

Knights are thorns in the eyes of evil factions, but if the money is right, they're perfectly happy to pretend nothing happened.

Once you understand the rules and logic of the Evil Alliance, they're actually quite easy to "deal with."

The ring Herbert gave Lord Fa Ao was a symbol of his personal identity, representing the son of a duke.

There's no need to worry that someone might doubt the ring or crest's authenticity due to ignorance of the Frost Crystal Kingdom—it's a minor nation; the Evil Alliance has its own methods of verification.

Appearing as a "Duke's Son's Retainer," and using gold coins to clear the way, many problems become easy to solve.

"As for strength—with the five of you, they're unlikely to act rashly."

Lord Fa Ao's team is a high-level squad; as long as they don't encounter a Legend, most situations can be handled easily.

"Take this ring—it will spare you countless troubles. So… hmm? Why are you staring blankly?"

After explaining, Herbert was about to say more when he suddenly raised an eyebrow.

Before him, Lord Fa Ao was gazing blankly upward, lips slightly moving, as if muttering to himself.

Didn't get it?

Well, for Lord Fa Ao, a commoner by birth, these subtleties were indeed complicated.

Herbert kindly forgave him.

Yet Lord Fa Ao was indeed confused—but for an entirely different reason.

Lord Fa Ao: Identity?

Oh, so it's this kind of identity!

Phew!

I thought it was some other kind of identity… cough!

"Cough! Cough!"

Regaining his composure, Lord Fa Ao forced a cough, then nodded firmly, feigning calm:

"So you've considered it this way—I understand."

Because of his usual seriousness, no one else thought anything of it, assuming he genuinely refused help.

Only Varro, who knew Lord Fa Ao's rigid nature better, twitched his brow, sensing something amiss.

But this loudmouth now kept his expression tight, teeth clenched, swallowing all his suspicions inside.

No, nothing can be said right now!

If I laugh out loud now, I'm afraid… pfft, cough cough!

"Hm?"

Herbert sharply sensed something was off, noticing Faou's unnaturalness and Varo's suppressed laughter.

What are these two up to?

But since there was still important business to attend to, Herbert did not press further.

At this moment, Faou fully regained his composure and asked about another concerning detail.

"However, my lord, if you hand this ring to us, won't your identity then…"

With this, they were safe, but the risk shifted onto Herbert's shoulders.

The hundreds of slaves sent to the Dark Lands had been carefully selected—they were the slave caravan's property, backed by various slave merchant guilds.

Minor thefts among thieves might be overlooked, but such a large-scale raid? The slave merchant guilds won't let this go easily.

"Don't worry, you needn't fear this risk—I'll take it upon myself."

"Besides, as Varo said… we can't let you steal all the spotlight."

Herbert gestured for the others to rise and retrieve their gear hidden beneath the prisoner carts.

Herbert waved casually, smiling: "Besides, if they come looking for trouble later, let them try."

To seek revenge, you first have to find me.

So, are you planning to go to Frost Crystal, or to the Mist Monastery?

Or to Elda?

I'm truly looking forward to their revenge.

"Also, take these coins with you—they'll come in handy."

In Herbert's hand, a storage pouch appeared as if by magic, casually tossed into Faou's hands.

"I know you may have taken the Oath of Poverty and own no wealth to speak of, but this money isn't for you—it's for them."

"Use it to smooth over troubles on the road, then distribute some to each person for their livelihood."

"These coins were taken from the slave merchants—they originally belonged to them."

"Lastly, if any remains, don't you dare embezzle it."

This last remark was, of course, a joke—Herbert had no doubt Faou and the others would use the money as intended.

Not only would Herbert never be so petty, but these men could never break their oaths.

Often, the title of Holy Knight alone offers no real aid, but the oaths they've sworn bind their actions.

In his past life, such self-restraint was merely a personal spiritual pursuit.

But in this world, self-restraint grants power.

After hearing the jest, Faou laughed, his expression noticeably lighter, and bowed slightly to Herbert: "... Understood. We shall follow your orders."

Herbert nodded, turned, and walked away, waving as he went: "Go. Do what you believe is right."

He left.

Taking the other monks with him, he headed toward the Dark Lands to continue the monastery's mission.

But Faou and the others chose to stay.

They would lead these pitiful souls out of this nightmare, guiding them toward a new life—a rebirth of freedom and dignity.

Moments later, after all other figures had vanished, Faou and the others exchanged silent glances, then burst into laughter.

"Didn't expect us to stay behind with you, did you?"

(gesturing)

"Don't worry—we'll do it together, for sure."

"Stop dawdling—start explaining the situation to them."

"Hah…"

Perhaps one day in the future, they might regret today's decision.

But not now.

At least in this moment, not a single ounce of regret lingered in their hearts.

They looked around and noticed the slaves, without realizing it, had relaxed and gathered close, surrounding them.

These people weren't forming a mob—they simply wanted to be nearer to these people.

After witnessing the entire exchange between Herbert and Faou's group, they understood these were their saviors.

Especially the boy with pure white hair—he inspired both reverence and fear.

Reverence, because the boy seemed the leader of this group, the one who had crushed the filthy slave traders!

And fear, because of his overwhelming power.

A single word had brought hundreds to their knees—this strength was incomprehensible to them, terrifying beyond measure.

Amid countless hopeful eyes, Faou stepped forward and spoke gently: "Friends, don't be afraid—we will take you home."

Home.

A word that subtly shifted the slaves' expressions.

Whether or not they still had homes to return to, the very idea of "home" carried deep power.

"L-lord! You really… oh!"

A child pushed to the front to ask a question, but stumbled and fell.

"Don't call me my lord."

Faou knelt beside the child, helped him up, and shook his head: "I'm Faou—a simple Holy Knight."

The child had truly reached the front, yet now grew timid, lowering his head and whispering, "Thank you."

Fa'ao shook his head again, speaking to the child and all the other slaves: "You should not thank me, but rather that noble one—he is the one who saved you."

Had it not been for Herbert's idea, none of these people would have played the role of slaves, would never have encountered these people, and certainly would never have wiped out the slave traders root and branch.

Their salvation, at its very source, was truly Herbert's doing.

The slaves exchanged glances, falling silent for a moment.

After a while, one of the slaves who had earlier tried to forcibly "apprehend" Herbert raised his hand and asked sincerely: "My lord, could you tell us the name of that noble one?"

This was not just his question—many slaves nodded silently in agreement.

They wanted to know a name.

Who was it that saved them?

Their benefactor.

Who was this boy, who had descended like a god and then vanished so gracefully?

Who was he?

For this question, Fa'ao and the others hesitated.

"This…"

Since Herbert had not voluntarily left his name, did he not wish to reveal his identity?

If they revealed it擅自, would it trouble Herbert?

"... Alright, I'll tell you."

Fa'ao frowned, wrestling with his thoughts, then finally decided to give them a name.

He smiled at the pitiful group of slaves with pity and compassion, whispering that name softly.

"Herbert."

"The noble one's name is Herbert—a most merciful my lord."

He carefully omitted Herbert's surname, sensing vaguely that the noble one seemed to dislike his family.

"As for his identity..."

Fa'ao's gaze swept over the ring Herbert had tossed to him, upon which was engraved his personal seal—a white pigeon in mid-flight.

"The White Pigeon."

A flash of pride gleamed in his eyes as he declared loudly: "The White Pigeon—who brings salvation to the unfortunate!"

"The White Pigeon will show the world: no one belongs in a cage!"

…

…

Herbert did not know that Fa'ao had secretly adopted "The White Pigeon" as his title behind his back.

Had he known, he would have prepared something far more dazzling.

Something like—Great Sage Master, Wheel-Turning King, Great Western King… that's what's dazzling.

The White Pigeon?

Tsk, that's just not good enough.

"Hmm?"

When Herbert and the other cultivators returned to the tavern, it had already fallen utterly still.

More accurately, the tavern was gone entirely, reduced to flat ground by some force.

In its place remained a blooming, vivid thicket of flowers.

A crimson thicket grown from flesh and bone, watered with blood.

At its center, the girl wearing a black veil sat quietly, hugging her knees, radiating a thick, nauseating stench of blood.

"What is this!?"

The cultivators stared nervously at the terrifying monster, weapons ready to strike—but Herbert stopped them before they could move.

"You all go ahead. I'll handle this. Try to track Cyril. I'll catch up later."

They hesitated slightly, but after the earlier intimidation, they chose to trust him, nodded, and swiftly circled around the thicket, entering the shadowed region.

"... Understood."

After the onlookers departed, Herbert stepped slowly into the thicket, advancing step by step toward the "dangerous presence."

The crimson thicket, the terrifying vampire prince—these were the images others saw.

But in Herbert's eyes...

Elisabeth sat peacefully on the tavern's ruins, hugging her knees, gazing blankly at the ceiling above, her expression serene.

Clearly, she'd vented too hard and had slipped into Sage Mode.

So Herbert walked over to her side and asked with a smile: "You had fun?"

"Hmm?"

Elisabeth blinked, then nodded: "Mmm… yes."

The long-overdue release was truly intoxicating.

Just as Elisabeth was about to rise, Herbert suddenly spoke.

"Since you had fun, pay up."

"Mmm… hmm?"

Elisabeth:???

Pay?

What am I supposed to pay for?

(End of this chapter)