Chapter 55: The Knights' Olive Branch

The Mist Knights, as the strongest combat organization of the monastery in terms of overall strength, had established their garrison in the Mist Mountains outside the monastery.

A portion of the Knights' members would go out on missions, acting as sharp swords thrust against evil.

Another portion stayed behind at the monastery, spending their days either rotating guard duty to maintain security within the monastery, or training in the Mist Mountains.

They would either enter the depths of the mountains in small squads to battle ferocious monsters, or temper their bodies and spirits through various harsh techniques.

They never harmed their own bodies, but the process of polishing their spirit and flesh could absolutely be called that of ascetic monks.

And now…

Herbert was about to become one of them.

"…"

He followed behind Bishop Rusty Nail up onto the city wall, watching the Knights' members training in various spots below, his brow twitching constantly.

Herbert watched helplessly as a middle-aged Holy Knight thrust his sword tip into his own forearm and pulled it out, then began practicing chopping with that bleeding arm just like that.

Self-harm?

No.

This wasn't just self-mutilation — as he chopped, he was also using divine arts to heal the wounds on his body.

He even felt it wasn't enough, so he swung his sword and pierced his own calf as well, beginning to coordinate with a staggering gait.

So, was this practicing combat after being wounded?

"Hiss…"

He turned his head and saw two Wu Seng facing each other in horse stance — they took turns kicking each other in the crotch, one kick each.

Smack!

"Mm!"

Smack!

"Ow!"

Smack!

"Ha!"

Every kick from the two of them landed with considerable force, glaring wide-eyed at each other, their expressions looking as if they wanted to swallow the other alive.

Under the blazing sun, dust flew at the crotches of the two, veins bulged at their temples, and their bodies trembled like sieves.

So, was this practicing the Golden Bell Shield?

Uh… should I say they were improving the impact resistance of their vital points?

"Hiss…"

Herbert watched and felt a phantom pain in his own crotch, unable to bear looking as he shifted his gaze to the other side again.

On this side, a Wu Seng was challenging ten Holy Knights barehanded — he was about to be kicked into a rolling pig's head by the circle of people.

Holy crap, this young man!

On another side, a Holy Knight with graying hair planted his blade before him, gripped the hilt with one arm, and used the strength of that single arm to prop up his entire body's weight.

Holy crap, this old man!

On yet another side…

After a simple glance around, Herbert's expression was quite colorful. He let out a long breath and couldn't help shaking his head with emotion.

He hadn't expected that in this small monastery, there were so many hidden dragons and crouching phoenixes.

Immortals stand in rows like hemp — gnash your teeth!

The entire Knights' training ground gave Herbert a bizarre sense of impact: "The Knights' big stage — if you've got the guts, come on up!"

Here, you can choose not to live, but you absolutely cannot have no act.

Is this Florida?

And just as he was sucking in cold air through gritted teeth, Bishop Rusty Nail before him spoke: "Herbert, you know your request isn't realistic."

"Whether or not the heretics have truly changed as you say, the fact that they themselves are extremely dangerous won't change."

"I can't agree to the request you've put forward."

Herbert nodded silently. Of course he understood that the feasibility of his request wasn't high — it could even be called wishful thinking.

Because there was simply no way to guarantee safety on his side.

Even if he himself believed they were mending their ways, others couldn't possibly believe it — and even… when that moment truly came, would Valentina and the others really behave?

All that could be said was, it was really hard to tell.

Don't try reaching your hand toward a hungry beast's mouth, and don't reach your dirty little hands toward the cooked ingredients while mom is cooking…

Don't bounce back and forth on the edge of danger!

Unless you can truly bear the price paid afterward.

But Herbert wasn't disappointed just because he'd been refused, because Bishop Rusty Nail's words clearly weren't finished yet.

Sure enough, after a few breaths of silence, Bishop Rusty Nail continued: "However… it's not entirely impossible."

"If you can subdue them with absolute certainty, then no one will stop you any longer."

He turned back, his expression impassive as he looked at the youth before him: "So, Herbert, do you know what you need most right now?"

"Strength."

With the other side's words made so obvious, Herbert dropped to one knee without hesitation and said sincerely: "Please, Commander, guide me on exactly what I should do!"

Bishop Rusty Nail looked at the sensible youth and nodded in satisfaction, saying in a hoarse voice: "Very good."

"You're very smart — after realizing I bore you no ill will, you'd already guessed my thoughts."

"That's right, I do indeed hope you can become a member of the Knights."

Herbert, head lowered, raised an eyebrow slightly, somewhat surprised by the Commander's words — he had seen through it long ago?

This Rusty Nail Bishop, it seems, is not as oblivious to human nature as he appears on the surface.

"As a noble, you know how to communicate with others — that is good."

"Most of the time, cultivators are far too rigid in how they conduct themselves, not knowing how to talk with other people."

The cardinal's mouth twitched at the corner, making the rivets on top gently clink and emit a faint hum.

"Nobles will see us as heartless madmen, fearing that we will purge and purify them along with evil."

"And sometimes, even commoners will treat us as the running dogs of nobles, afraid that we will charge exorbitant fees… heh."

The Rusty Nail Bishop's gaze fell upon the cultivators in the training grounds; he silently shook his head, sighed, then closed his eyes in pain.

No more looking…

Just looking at it gives me a headache.

"What they lack… hmm, is precisely that shrewdness you possess."

The Rusty Nail Bishop turned his head back, looked at the white-haired youth, nodded in satisfaction once more, and said: "But these alone are not enough — you still need sufficient strength."

He extended his hand toward Herbert, issuing an invitation:

"Abandon your work at the Tribunal and join the Knights. I will personally train you."

"I will absolutely not waste that talent of yours — I will make you a true Holy Knight capable of defending justice."

Herbert did not answer immediately.

Honestly, the Rusty Nail Bishop's proposal was not bad — he did indeed need a channel through which he could systematically improve and train his strength.

But then again…

Abandon his work at the Tribunal?

Herbert's brows knit; he felt that this was less an invitation and more a demand that he renounce worldly pleasures.

You're making things difficult for me!

"I…"

Bang!

Just as he was about to speak, the great door behind him was smashed open, and a burly figure charged in with no regard for decorum, planting himself squarely between the two.

"Herbert!!!"

Bishop Thorn's booming voice rang across the entire training ground, drawing everyone's gaze.

Everyone heard a desperate, broken howl:

"Don't agree to anything he says — ah!!!"

(End of chapter)