Chapter 36

In the cave, firelight flickered.

Saisile leaned against the stone wall, using the firelight to tend to his wounds. Dozens of injuries, large and small, crisscrossed his body—some had scabbed over, others still oozed blood. As he bandaged himself, he winced and muttered curses at the Radiant Church. His movements were skilled, but age told: when he bent over, the wound on his ribs pulled taut, drawing a sharp hiss of pain.

"Those bastards chased me for three full days. If I hadn't been prepared, I'd be dead meat in the Magical Beast Mountain Range." He sprinkled gray-brown powder onto his wounds; it carried a sharp, pungent medicinal odor. "This medicine was bought in Fenlai Cheng—cost over a hundred gold coins. Works decently, but damn if it doesn't hurt like hell."

Linlei sat at the cave's entrance, back turned to the others, his gaze fixed on the night outside. Beibei crouched on his shoulder, nodding his small head, nearly asleep. Occasional night breezes drifted in, carrying the damp, forest scent. Linlei remained utterly still, as if merged into the darkness.

Aikesi sat beside the fire, adding a few dry branches. They were pine, crackling softly as they burned; the flames painted his face in shifting light and shadow. He appeared casual, but his peripheral vision never left Saisile—the old Undead Mage, a morally ambiguous figure in the original, ruthless yet loyal. If he could be won over, he'd be a powerful ally. Right now, the old man proved he had real skill.

"How much do you know about the Radiant Church?" Aikesi suddenly asked. His voice was quiet, yet crystal-clear in the silent cave.

Saisile's eyes narrowed; his hands paused for a moment before resuming bandaging. He knew this was the real question. The old fox had lived half a century—he could read intentions at a glance. These two youths had saved him, but surely not out of simple righteousness—these days, who still did such foolish things?

He sat up straight, his tone serious: "A fair bit. For years I've been investigating them—from Fenlai Kingdom to the O'Brien Empire, from common believers to the Red Cardinal. Their dirty deeds—I know most of them." He finished wrapping the last wound, then straightened his clothes, making himself look more formal.

"For example?"

"For example: angels require a Vessel." Saisile lowered his voice; the fire cast deep shadows across his lined face, making his expression seem sinister. "For example: they secretly kidnap children with pure souls across the continent. For example: they have a key outpost in Bazier, the provincial capital of the Northwest Province, tasked with screening and transporting these children."

Linlei turned his head. Moonlight streamed in behind him, outlining his tall silhouette. His gaze was calm, but Saisile noticed his fingers tightening slightly.

Saisile's heart tightened.

He paused, then spoke even lower: "The man in charge of Bazier is Count Peili. Publicly a noble, in truth he's a dog of the Radiant Church. This old bastard is officially a Count of Fenlai Kingdom, overseeing affairs in the Northwest Province—but secretly he does the Church's dirty work. He handles the entire Northwest Province's 'supply'—dozens of children are sent yearly from his hands to the Church's secret bases."

"How do you know this?" Linlei asked. His voice was quiet, yet carried undeniable weight.

Saisile instinctively sat up straighter. He had a strange feeling—not speaking to a youth, but to some superior. He steadied himself: "I tracked their escort teams. Three times. First time I lost them—they were too alert. I got too close and was spotted; nearly died there. Second time, I observed from afar—confirmed their route and personnel. Third time…" He gave a bitter laugh, touching his rib wound. "Third time, luck ran out. They caught me. Those fanatical escorts chased me for three full days. I lost seven or eight of my undead puppets. Only escaped because I'd pre-planned escape routes. Otherwise, I wouldn't be in this state."

His face twisted in visible pain. Those undead puppets were the fruit of decades—each crafted with special materials, some bought at great cost. Losing seven or eight meant years of effort vanished.

Linlei fell silent. Firelight danced on his face, casting shifting shadows. Then he asked: "Where are the children taken?"

"I haven't found out yet." Saisile shook his head, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. "Only the general direction—Hunluan Zhi Ling. The Radiant Church has a secret base there, but I don't know the location. I once followed an escort team deep into Hunluan Zhi Ling—but they vanished at the edge of the Magical Beast Mountain Range. I searched that region for two months. Nothing. Too many beasts, too complex terrain—my undead puppets couldn't penetrate."

"What are you planning to do next?" Linlei asked.

Saisile glanced at him, then at Aikesi, weighing his words. He knew this was critical—what he said now, how he said it, would decide whether he lived or died, whether he could bind himself to these two. He'd lived half a century—he had the eyes for it.

"My life is yours. If you don't reject me, I'll follow you." He paused, choosing his words carefully, watching their reactions. "I'm weaker than you, but my Undead Mage arts have uses. And my intelligence—useful to you. Also…" He lowered his voice, as if revealing a secret. "I've gathered a few assets over the years—hidden safehouses, all remote, secure. And connections—every kind of underworld contact. All can be leveraged when needed."

He watched them carefully.

Linlei didn't answer immediately—he looked at Aikesi.

Aikesi knew he was seeking his opinion. He thought a moment, then said: "Having someone familiar with the terrain is better than stumbling blind. And his Undead Mage arts have clear advantages in reconnaissance and tracking." He spoke truthfully—undead puppets never tired, feared no death—perfect for scouting.

Linlei nodded, turning to Saisile: "Fine. But I warn you—if you harbor any schemes, I won't hesitate."

His tone was flat, but Saisile felt a chill crawl up his spine. He had a gut feeling—this youth wasn't bluffing. He was deadly serious. He waved his hands wildly: "No no, this old bone still wants to live a few more years. Rest assured—I'm no saint, but I know gratitude. Besides…" He gave a bitter laugh, pointing to his wounds. "The Radiant Church is hunting me too. We're on the same rope. Where would I run?"

Beibei woke, leapt from Linlei's shoulder, bounced to Saisile's front, and stared up at him. Saisile felt uneasy under that gaze. The rat's eyes were too alert—this wasn't a beast's look. It was human. He forced a nervous smile: "This young brother is…"

"Beibei," Linlei said. "My partner."

"Partner…" Saisile nodded thoughtfully, asking no more. But his gaze toward Beibei grew cautious—he'd seen many beasts, but never an Ying Shu so sentient. And for such a beast to willingly follow—Linlei's identity was far from ordinary.

Heilu lay at the cave entrance, motionless except for occasional tail flicks. Saisile glanced at it, wisely keeping his distance. A Level 9 Magical Beast. From its size and fur, he knew his old bones wouldn't survive one bite.

The matter was settled.

The next morning, the group continued their journey.

Morning mist still clung to the trees, damp and heavy. Dew clung to leaves; insects chirped from the grass. The air was fresh, scented with vegetation—but for travelers, the dampness was uncomfortable.

Aikesi led the way, Heilu following behind, occasionally sniffing the roadside grass. Linlei and Beibei walked in the middle; Saisile limped behind.

Saisile's wounds hadn't fully healed; walking was painful. He gritted his teeth for a while, but after less than half an hour, sweat broke on his brow. Age had robbed him of youth's recovery.

Linlei noticed his condition, stopped, and signaled Heilu. Heilu glanced at Aikesi, who nodded.

"Get on," Linlei said.

Saisile froze, then waved his hands wildly: "How could I—this is too much, I—"

"Your wound will worsen if delayed," Linlei cut in. "We need you healed quickly."

Saisile opened his mouth, then fell silent. He climbed onto Heilu's back. The wolf disliked carrying strangers, shaking its fur—but settled. Saisile sat atop, muttering "Ashamed, ashamed," yet his face held quiet wonder.

He'd lived half a century—always alone. Fellow Undead Mages schemed to steal his puppets. Radiant Church agents hunted him on sight. Common folk fled at his approach. Now, two strangers had saved his life, taken him in, and let him ride a Magical Beast.

His heart stirred with complexity.

At noon, the group halted by a small stream.

The water was clear, revealing pebbles and small fish below. Shallow—knee-deep at most—its gentle flow murmured softly. Sunlight filtered through leaves, dappling the surface.

Beibei crouched by the stream, pawing at fish. He missed every time, squeaking in frustration. Finally, he dove headfirst into the water, splashing wildly—but still caught nothing. He crawled out, drenched, glaring at the fish with bared teeth—utterly ridiculous.

Saisile dismounted from Heilu, stretched his limbs, then knelt by the stream to drink. The water was cool, faintly sweet. He drank several handfuls, then sat on a rock, watching Aikesi and Linlei.

"I'm curious about your strength," he suddenly said. "Might I ask?"

Linlei glanced at him, said nothing.

Saisile didn't flinch, continuing: "Linlei—you're Nine-level Peak after Dragonblood transformation, aren't you?" He'd seen the aura—no ordinary Nine-level could match it.

Linlei's eyes sharpened.

Saisile waved his hands wildly: "Don't misunderstand—I'm just guessing. I know a bit about the Four Ultimate Warriors families. Dragonblood, Undying Warrior, Purpleblood, Tigerstriped—all ancient bloodlines. You're a Dragonblood descendant, right?" His eyes held curiosity.

Linlei paused, then nodded.

Saisile's eyes lit up: "Of course."

His expression turned grave: "I must warn you—the Radiant Church's true power far exceeds its surface. Fenlai's branch is just a minnow. The real giants lie in the O'Brien Empire, the Holy Union, the Judgment Tribunal's headquarters. Each fanatic was selected from countless believers, trained from childhood, utterly loyal. Minimum Level 7."

He paused, then added: "And you, Aikesi?" He turned to him. "Your aura is restrained—you're also Nine-level. And that flame…"

"Nine-level Initiate," Aikesi cut in. "Fire-type Mage."

Saisile nodded, not pressing further about the flame. He was clever—he knew what to ask and what not to.

"With your strength and my Undead Mage arts, we can handle ordinary Radiant Church squads," Saisile said. "But I warn you—their true elites haven't moved yet. The Judgment Tribunal members? All fanatics. Minimum Level 9. And their Inquisitor-General—Wusennuo—is a Saint Domain." He whispered the words, as if fearing to wake something.

Linlei's expression didn't change, but Aikesi noticed his fingers twitch slightly.

Saint Domain.

He is currently Level 8; after dragon transformation, he reaches Nine-level Peak, yet there remains a heavenly chasm between him and the Saint Domain. This chasm may take an unknown length of time to cross. Some people are stuck at Nine-level their entire lives, never even touching the threshold of the Saint Domain.

"So we must proceed with caution," said Saisile. "No direct confrontation—only cunning. All these years, my experience dealing with them has been this—ambush whenever possible, poison whenever possible. After all, they're no good either; any method is justified."

This was indeed true.

Aikesi recalled how Saisile acted in the original novel—he was indeed someone who spared no means to achieve his goals. But such a person, if used well, becomes the sharpest blade. Moreover, Saisile knew his limits—when to advance, when to retreat. This seasoned veteran was exactly what they needed.

"Where to next?" asked Aikesi.

Saisile thought for a moment: "First, Basil City. I previously learned that Count Peili is about to ship out a batch of goods—likely within these few days. If we hurry, we might catch it. I still have a few informants in Basil City who can help us gather intelligence." He paused, then added, "Those informants are minor figures, but well-informed: Lao Zhou, who runs a general store; Da Liu, who sells buns at his stall; and Sun Fatty, who collects taxes at the city gate—all are my people."

"Can your wounds hold up?" asked Linlei.

Saisile patted his chest. "Child's play. Though old as I am, I'm not that fragile. Besides, with two of you here, what could possibly go wrong?" He paused, then added, "But I suggest we travel by night and rest by day. The Radiant Church's spies are everywhere—better safe than sorry." He pointed toward the distance. "This road I chose—few people, remote, hard to spot. It's a bit longer, adds two days' travel."

Linlei looked at Aikesi; Aikesi nodded.

"Then let's go."

Over the next few days, they traveled by day and rested at night. Saisile's wounds improved daily, and his talk grew more frequent. He told them many secrets of the Radiant Church: the training methods of the Fanatics—children locked from infancy in secret bases, their days filled only with prayer and drills, no childhood, no freedom, molded into killing machines that obeyed only orders; the ritual of angelic descent—requiring a Vessel, a sacrifice, a specific time and place, during which the Vessel's suffering was unimaginable; and the internal feuds among the Church's top figures—the covert rivalries among Red Cardinals, the tensions between the Judgment Tribunal and local churches, and more.

Linlei listened carefully, occasionally asking questions. Aikesi also listened, but mostly observed Saisile—the old man knew much, yet concealed far more. He often spoke half-truths, clearly testing their reactions. When speaking of angelic descent, he deliberately avoided mentioning the Vessel's fate. When discussing internal Church struggles, he glossed over certain key figures.

But Aikesi said nothing. It was normal for Saisile to hold back—they had only known each other for a few days. Trust required time to build.

On the fifth evening, they saw the silhouette of Basil City in the distance.

It was a large city, its walls towering; in the twilight, banners fluttered atop the ramparts—the golden lion flag of Fenlai Kingdom and the holy light flag of the Radiant Church hung side by side. The walls were built of blue stone, about seven or eight zhang high, with watchtowers spaced along them, patrolled by guards. Outside the gates, many came and went—merchants, mercenaries, civilians—crowded and bustling, some driving carts, others carrying loads, some leading children, lively and noisy.

Saisile pointed to the city. "That's Basil—the provincial capital of the Northwest Province. Count Peili's manor lies in the east, near the Lingzhu Fu. That old bastard built his residence like a castle, keeps over a hundred private soldiers, plus guards sent by the Church. We must first find a place to stay, then investigate slowly. I have an acquaintance in the west quarter—a general store owner I trust. His name is Lao Zhou; he used to be a Mercenary, but after injuring his leg, he opened the store to make a living. I helped him several times—he owes me favors."

Linlei nodded, his gaze fixed on the city.

Aikesi stood beside him, also watching the city. The guards at the gate were twice as numerous as in ordinary cities; every person entering was searched. Some queued to enter, others argued with guards, vendors called out from roadside stalls.

"Let's go," he said.

The group walked toward the city gate.