Chapter 59: The Knight Order

The Mist Knights, as the strongest combat force within the monastery, established their base in the Mist Mountains beyond the monastery grounds.

Some members of the knight order venture out on missions, acting as swords thrust against evil.

Others remain stationed at the monastery, spending their days rotating guard duties within its walls or training in the Mist Mountains.

They either enter the mountain’s depths in small squads to fight ferocious demonic creatures, or endure grueling techniques to forge their bodies and spirits.

They never maim their own flesh, yet their refinement of spirit and body is unquestionably that of ascetics.

And now…

Herbert is about to become one of them.

“…”

He followed Bishop Rust Nail up onto the ramparts, watching the knight order members training below, his brow twitching repeatedly.

Herbert watched as a middle-aged holy knight drove his sword tip into his own forearm, withdrew it, then began practicing slashing motions with his bleeding arm.

Self-mutilation?

No.

This wasn’t just self-harm—he slashed while simultaneously healing his wounds with divine magic.

He even deemed it insufficient, thrusting his blade again to pierce his own calf, then coordinated his staggered steps with his strikes.

So, he’s training to fight while injured?

“Sss…”

He turned his head and saw two martial monks standing in horse stance, facing each other—alternating kicks to each other’s groins.

Thwack!

“Ugh!”

Thwack!

“Aaah!”

Thwack!

“Ha!”

Each kick landed with brutal force; their eyes bulged as if they meant to devour each other alive.

Beneath the blazing sun, dust flew from their crotches, veins throbbed on their temples, and their bodies trembled like leaves in a storm.

So, are they training Golden Bell Armor?

Hmm… more accurately, enhancing resistance to strikes on vital points?

“Sss…”

Herbert felt phantom pain in his groin and averted his gaze, unable to bear watching.

Over here, a martial monk fought ten holy knights barehanded—already half-buried under a flurry of kicks, turning into a rolling piglet.

Holy shit, this kid!

Over there, a silver-haired holy knight jammed his blade into the ground, gripped the hilt with one arm, and held his entire body’s weight aloft with just that single arm.

Holy shit, this old man!

Over here…

Herbert glanced around briefly, his expression a riot of shock; he exhaled slowly, shaking his head in awe.

Who would’ve thought such a small monastery housed so many hidden dragons and phoenixes?

Immortals here, lined up like hemp stalks!

The entire knight order training ground gave Herbert a strange, overwhelming sense: “This is the knight order’s grand stage—if you’ve got guts, step forward!”

Here, you don’t have to live—but you absolutely must live.

Is this the Buddhist Province?

As Herbert winced and sucked in a sharp breath, Bishop Rust Nail spoke ahead of him: “Herbert, you know your request is unrealistic.”

“Regardless of whether the heretics have truly changed as you claim, their inherent extreme danger remains unchanged.”

“I cannot agree to your demand.”

Herbert nodded silently—he understood his request had little chance of success, bordering on fantasy.

After all, he himself could not guarantee safety.

Even if he believed they had reformed, others would never trust them—and… when the moment came, would Valentina and the others truly behave?

It was hard to say.

Don’t test your hand near the mouth of a hungry beast, nor reach your dirty little fingers toward cooked food while your mother cooks…

Don’t keep hopping along the edge of danger!

Unless you’re truly prepared to pay the price afterward.

But Herbert wasn’t disappointed by the refusal, for Bishop Rust Nail’s words clearly weren’t finished.

Indeed, after a few breaths of silence, the bishop continued: “But… it’s not entirely impossible.”

“If you can firmly suppress them, no one will oppose you.”

He turned back, his expression solemn as he gazed at the boy before him: “So, Herbert, do you know what you most need right now?”

“Strength.”

With the bishop’s meaning so plainly stated, Herbert dropped to one knee without hesitation and pleaded earnestly: “Please, Master of the Knights, guide me on how to proceed!”

Bishop Rust Nail nodded approvingly at the obedient boy and murmured in a hoarse voice: “Good.”

“You’re clever. Once you realized I meant you no harm, you already guessed my intentions.”

“Correct—I do wish for you to join the knight order.”

Herbert, head bowed, raised an eyebrow slightly—he’d already seen through him?

This Bishop Rust Nail was far less oblivious to human nature than he appeared.

“As a noble, you know how to communicate with others—that’s good.”

“Many monks are rigid in social conduct, clueless how to interact with ordinary people.”

The cardinal’s lips curled, causing the rivets on his robe to clink faintly.

“Nobles see us as heartless madmen, fearing we’ll purge them along with evil.”

“And sometimes, even commoners regard us as nobles’ hounds, afraid we’ll charge exorbitant fees… hah.”

Bishop Rust Nail’s gaze settled on the monks training below; he shook his head silently, sighed, then shut his eyes in pain.

No more looking…

Just seeing it gave him a headache.

“What they lack… hmm… is precisely your smoothness.”

Bishop Rust Nail turned back, studying the white-haired boy once more, nodding approvingly: “But that alone isn’t enough—you need sufficient strength.”

He extended his hand toward Herbert, issuing an invitation:

“Quit your work at the Inquisition. Join the knight order. I will train you personally.”

“I will not waste your talent. I will forge you into a true holy knight who defends justice.”

Herbert did not answer immediately.

To be honest, the bishop’s proposal was appealing—he did need a systematic way to enhance his strength.

But…

Quit the Inquisition?

Herbert frowned, feeling this wasn’t an invitation—it was a demand to renounce his pleasures.

You’re making this hard on me!

“I…”

CRASH!

As he opened his mouth, the door behind him burst open; a massive figure stormed in without grace, blocking the two men from each other.

“HERBERT!!!”

Bishop Thorn’s booming voice echoed across the entire training ground, drawing every eye.

Everyone heard a desperate, shattered cry:

“Don’t agree to anything he says—AHHHH!!!”

(End of Chapter)