Chapter 471: The Farmer and the King

Lei Ming City, Andes Manor.

It was late summer. The morning chill drifted through the half-open window, carrying the fragrance of marigolds into the study.

Grand Duke Edward Campbell read his sister's handwritten letter once more, his handsome brow furrowed with solemnity.

In the letter, Princess Ailin described in detail the brutality of the Battle of Dusk City, the terror of the Chaos Evil God's descent, and the final judgment that fell from the sky.

Of course, she also mentioned the successive arrivals of the King's Palace Steward, Sike Lai'er, and the Church's Inquisition after the battle, as well as the resulting tensions.

The Campbell people had paid a tremendous sacrifice to save their compatriots in the Dusk Saint Saint Xingsheng; they deserved the King's reward!

Yet, the King's lackeys deliberately blurred the concepts of ownership and usage rights, slandering the Campbell Principality for wanting to usurp the King's title, and claiming that such black-and-white-reversing behavior was creating a breeding ground for Chaos. That fellow even dragged out the Great Sage's "prophecy."

Hah!

Edward sneered.

These guys really dared to say anything!

Could it be that Chaos was invited by the Campbell people's reinforcements?

In truth, Edward didn't care about such trivial accusations. He wasn't surprised at all that the King would send people to "pick the apples"; it was merely a matter of who would lead the charge.

The only thing he found troublesome was the arrival of the Inquisition.

Edward tapped his index finger lightly on the white oak table, his gaze falling on the massive map of the Kingdom of Lai'en on the wall.

The Church usually did not easily interfere in the internal disputes of secular kingdoms; their sword blades were aimed only at heretics and Chaos.

However, the weight of the title "Grand Inquisitor" was too heavy. Usually, the Kingdom of Lai'en would struggle to even see an Imperial Baron, yet this time, a favorite of the Pope had actually come.

Ximeineisi's arrival had subtly changed the rules of this chess game. The contest, which originally relied on strength, now had an additional weight called "legal principle."

And—

The Inquisition might not be pure either.

Perhaps only serfs who had never seen a priest in their lives would think that a devil who killed without blinking became a saint just by holding a copy of the "Holy Word Book."

It wasn't as if there hadn't been priests in the Dusk Saint Saint Xingsheng before; surely it couldn't be that the Campbell people were too greedy, causing the Lai'en people there to go hungry?

"... My lord." A travel-worn messenger knocked respectfully on the study door, then stood at the entrance waiting for a response.

"Come in."

Edward pulled back his thoughts, picked up the letter he had already drafted from the table, sealed it with wax, and handed it to the messenger who entered.

"Tell Princess Ailin to act with caution and prioritize her own safety above all else. No matter what happens, the Campbell Principality will always be her firmest backing."

He paused, then suppressed his anger and added a sentence.

"And me... No one can slander my sister and expect to act as if nothing happened. Not even the King's Palace Steward!"

"Yes, Grand Duke... Your Majesty."

Sensing the fury in those eyes, the messenger felt a chill in his heart. He took the hot potato of a letter with both hands, bowed, and retreated quickly.

After sending the messenger away, Edward's gaze fell on another secret report sent by his confidant.

This intelligence mainly mentioned the basic situation of the various Earldoms, Baronies, towns, and villages in the Dusk Saint Saint Xingsheng.

This included the approximate population range of each plot of land, the extent of war damage, whether the soil was suitable for farming, and where the lords had gone.

If Xioadeng wanted to renege on his debts in the name of the divine, Edward wasn't a pushover either.

He had always liked to prepare two hands.

If the King wouldn't cooperate, he'd find the Earl; if the Earl wouldn't, he'd find the Baron; if the main family wouldn't, he'd find the collateral branches. Whoever cooperated with the Campbell family was the legal principle!

Did that old thing pretending to be asleep think he could drive the wolf to swallow the tiger, using the fire of Chaos to take back the land in the nobles' hands?

Don't even think about it!

The sword of the Campbell Principality would defend the sacred and unquestionable legal rights of the lords of the Dusk Saint Saint Xingsheng!

Although the Campbell family were rivals to the traditional feudal nobles in their own principality, they could certainly take a different stance in their neighbor's home.

Expressionless, he read the intelligence to the end. Edward had already completed the blueprint for the entire plan in his mind, just as he had planned the future of Lei Ming City.

But honestly, he was already a bit tired of it.

Why was it always the Campbell Principality cleaning up the mess for the Dewalu family?

They had expanded the territory for the Kingdom of Lai'en, suppressed the labyrinth in Lei Ming County for nearly a thousand years for the Kingdom of Lai'en, and held the southern seaport for the Kingdom of Lai'en. Yet, the King had never thanked them, even viewing the "Light of Praise" as a nuisance.

He hadn't thought this way before, but recently he felt more and more that the Dewalu family didn't deserve such vast lands at all; they were the kingdom's greatest disgrace themselves!

Perhaps Andes was right—

To solve the Campbell Principality's current troubles once and for all, the Dusk Saint Saint Xingsheng had to be thoroughly turned into the Dusk Principality.

As for future troubles...

That would be for later.

Just then, Edward's gaze fell on the last line of the final page of the intelligence in his hand, and it stayed there.

His confidant mentioned specifically when referring to the whereabouts of Earl Sailong Jiade that this fellow had returned to his own castle, suspected of having reached some kind of deal with the Salvation Army.

Originally, they intended to talk to this Earl Sailong, but when they went to the mansion in Dusk City, the fellow was already gone. They heard he had even brought his family back to the castle.

Edward had heard the name "Salvation Army," including the so-called "Saintess," and that they had received help from the dwarves, and that even a Sword Saint from the Brass Pass stood by their side.

It was just that the one thing he hadn't expected was that even though Chaos was over, these guys still had influence in the Dusk Saint Saint Xingsheng.

Did they think that just because they fought a battle with Chaos, the Church would invite them back to the Shengcheng to receive a reward?

Not to mention anything else, just the name alone was rebellious enough.

"Salvation... Saintess... Hah."

Muttering these two names, Edward's lips curled into a trace of imperceptible contempt.

A mob composed of rebels and starving people actually dared to claim "Salvation"; it was simply the height of absurdity.

Their own refugees were starving to the point of begging in Lei Ming City, and they still wanted to save the world?

They should hurry up and save themselves first!

Edward was dismissive of this group of madmen.

However, when his gaze swept over the so-called "New Testament" attached to the secret report, the contempt in his eyes faded, replaced by a glimmer of interest.

Strictly speaking, his confidant hadn't actually seen that scripture; all content regarding the "New Testament" was hidden in the word-of-mouth of the locals.

Therefore, there was also a saying that the so-called "New Testament" was not a visible book, but an oracle that "Saintess Kalian" had received from Saint Xisi.

Because Kalian told everyone she met that she was just an ordinary nun, born in an inconspicuous village, and had awakened the ability to "communicate with the gods" due to a chance rescue by the gods, and before that, she was just an ordinary country girl.

According to this theory, anyone could claim to have heard an oracle; if the Inquisition knew, they would definitely go crazy!

His confidant had excerpted a few lines of the so-called oracle in the secret letter; he didn't dare write more, only selecting some praises for Saint Xisi and the pie in the sky that the "Son of God" had drawn for the world.

Ordinary fools would only compare which god drew a bigger pie, but Edward was a smart man; he saw the essence through the phenomenon at a glance.

"Everyone is a priest..." Edward chuckled, a rare trace of admiration appearing in his interested eyes. "They've got something."

This was definitely not something a group of starving peasants could come up with. Would ordinary people think of seizing the "right to interpret scripture"?

There must be an expert guiding them from behind!

Any ruler knew that what was written in the "Holy Word Book" didn't matter at all; what mattered was who held the power to interpret it.

For thousands of years, the Church had always held this power firmly in its hands, and used it to establish the order of the Second Epoch!

And now, a village girl actually wanted to seize the "right to interpret scripture" from the Church?

This wasn't just bold; it was simply selling one's soul to the devil!

But these people were clever; they didn't fly the banner of Hell, but rather held up the banner of Saint Xisi.

Edward couldn't help but start to re-evaluate this so-called "Salvation Army."

No matter who stood behind them, as long as they had nothing to do with Chaos, they weren't enemies, and even—

They could become a useful tool.

At the very least, they couldn't be allowed to be pinched to death by the Inquisition like a stinking bug so easily; that Saintess had to keep living.

Just as he was deep in thought, a respectful knock on the door interrupted his contemplation.

After receiving permission, his servant pushed the door open and walked in, standing behind him and saying respectfully.

"Your Highness, Prince Kelin has returned... He heard you were in Lei Ming City and rushed here immediately, saying he wanted to apologize for his abrupt departure earlier."

The good news came like a spring breeze, instantly dispelling all the gloom in Edward's heart. A look of joy appeared on his face, and he pushed his chair back and stood up.

It was truly a pillow delivered just as he was getting sleepy!

The King had one more card in his hand, and immediately someone handed him two cards. Sure enough, Saint Xisi knew in his heart who was truly pious!

The Kelin Principality might become an ally of the Campbell Principality.

No—

It should be said that it definitely would.

He had heard that after that Highness learned the news of Princess Ailin on the front line, he hadn't stopped for even a moment and had whipped his horse to rush over!

If this wasn't love, then he would never believe in love again!

"Quick, invite him to the reception room," Edward ordered immediately, his voice carrying a trace of undisguisable joy. "I will go over later—"

Before he finished speaking, he shook his head and called out to the servant who was about to turn and leave.

"Forget it, no need. How can I let a distinguished guest wait at the door? Take me there; I will welcome him personally!"

Looking at the spirited Grand Duke, the servant's face showed a look of surprise, then he bowed respectfully.

"As you command."

The gods always favor pious children, even if it isn't necessarily the Holy Light that favors the children.

The Campbell family, who had held fast to piety for a thousand years, finally waited for the "New Testament" and the Prince who favored them after eliminating the Demon King.

And at the same time, the farmers of the Dusk Saint Saint Xingsheng finally waited for the sun after the rain cleared.

They truly believed in Saint Xisi, just as sheep believed that the shepherd's staff in the shepherd's hand was to guide them to the fertile pastures.

They were truly pious, unlike some monarch who "saw the essence through the phenomenon"...

Several days had passed since the "Angel's Descent," and everything seemed to have returned to calm; the Chaos that had once tortured this land was as if it had never come.

Although the situation in the Governor's Mansion in Dusk City was still treacherous, that black cloud only shrouded the top of the Governor's Mansion.

Ordinary people couldn't even feel its existence.

For example, Burton, who lived in the Lion Griffin Cliff territory, was one of them. He couldn't see it, nor did he care; anyway, no matter who was the lord, his village was just as poor.

The happiest moment of his life was when he picked up a piece of high-quality wood from the forest that no one wanted when he was twenty, and replaced the house beam that was about to collapse.

He still remembered the look his wife and son gave him at the time; that look was as if they were looking at a great hero.

Because that memory was too profound, he even remembered the final things.

At the time, he was resting on the threshold, his wife was drying clothes in the yard, and his five-year-old son was chasing a butterfly running around.

The sun was warm, and the air was mixed with the fragrance of grass and mud.

Later, he fell asleep, until his son giggled and shook him awake, saying that Uncle Luosi, who was blacksmithing next door, was looking for him, and there was a batch of goods to be sent to the castle.

He wasn't any knight or noble, just a groom pulling goods. His lifelong pursuit was actually just such an ordinary and warm afternoon.

It was just a pity—

The peace he longed for suddenly disappeared from some day.

Even though the beauty of the past now had signs of a flash in the pan, he couldn't sit on the threshold and rest leisurely as before.

Because once he closed his eyes, that moment of peace would be torn to pieces by a bloody nightmare.

Shouts of killing were everywhere, and women and children cried in despair. Behind that thick smoke, there was also the twisted smiling face of the "Executioner" Aka under the firelight.

That madman said he wanted to kill all the believers of Saint Xisi, but he didn't just kill priests and nuns; as long as they weren't people who went crazy with him, they were all tortured by him.

At the time, Burton was delivering goods to the lord, and both he and the goods were forcibly abducted by Aka's troops, changing from the lord's groom to the groom of the Green Forest Army.

Even this was considered lucky.

After all, riding a horse was a technical job, and feeding horses was too; the Green Forest Army still needed him, so they didn't chop him down with a knife.

Those soldiers suffered a lot; clearly, they were also pulled by the lord to work like him, but they were chopped into pieces and stuffed into the bloody altar... One of the guys was even his fellow villager.

Not only cruel to the enemy, these apostles of Chaos were even more ruthless to their own people!

He saw with his own eyes Aka's men hanging three Green Turbans who tried to escape on a tree, chatting and laughing about some tortures he had never heard of, like using tree bark to insert into fingernails, roasting lamb legs over a slow fire... That was simply not something humans could think of!

Every day in the army, Burton lived in fear, only daring to lower his head and feed the horses well, for fear of being targeted by that group of madmen.

Finally, one day, a man carrying a great sword stood out, followed by a group of people pulling another flag.

Watching that arrogant army being thoroughly defeated, Burton didn't even have time to feel the joy of victory, and immediately took advantage of the chaos to escape.

He threw away the turban on his head, and everything that could expose his identity, carrying only the supplies he picked up in the chaos.

He hid and hid like a frightened mouse on the devastated land of this Earldom, until everything settled down before he dared to return to his village.

When he appeared at his door in rags, his wife almost didn't recognize him.

Until he called her name in a hoarse voice, the woman who was as thin as a reed burst into earth-shattering crying, rushing up to hold him tightly.

He remembered she only said one sentence.

"It's good that you're still alive."

That afternoon when the family hugged and cried was the second most precious time in Burton's life.

Later, he told everyone he met that he encountered Green Bandits on the way to deliver goods to the lord, and almost lost his life.

Thanks to Saint Xisi's blessing, he ran to the mountain, and then hid in the deep mountains, until recently he dared to return home.

Burton didn't dare to say that he had also worn that damn turban; that memory was like a dirty brand stamped on his butt, even if he was forced to bear it.

The villagers accepted his statement; after all, everyone knew this honest man, and didn't think in that direction at all.

Everything seemed to have returned to calm, except that Burton himself would occasionally be awakened by nightmares, and no one came to disturb him.

However, the peaceful days didn't last long.

Some terrible rumors began to circulate in the village, saying that a group of armies wearing black robes had entered the Lion Griffin Cliff territory.

Those warriors wearing black robes were silent and efficient, leaving no room for mercy, just like machines that didn't spit steam.

They claimed to be the "Inquisition" from the Shengcheng, directly responsible to the Pope, and were arresting the remnants related to the "Green Turbans" everywhere.

The invasion of Chaos had ended, and this group of guys who could fight and win had just emerged.

Burton swallowed his saliva, instinctively wanting to avoid this topic, but always felt that it had something to do with him, and finally couldn't help but lean over.

"... This group of guys claim to be the Inquisition, but they never judge, only kill."

The carpenter who returned from the town lowered his voice, his face full of horror, as if he had seen a ghost.

"The blacksmith in the next village, just because he repaired a few knives for those Green Turbans, was hanged on the tree at the entrance of the village!"

"When did this happen?!"

"Are you talking about repairing the knives? It seems like a year or two ago... At that time, those guys weren't so crazy, and they even paid money when buying things."

A farmer also couldn't help but shrink his neck, whispering tremblingly.

"... I suspect that guy was pulled to make up the numbers; I seem to have heard someone say that there are many people in the next village, and they have to kill more to be enough."

"This... how many are enough?"

"I don't know, but I heard there is a number."

"Are you kidding?! Killing people on the King's land, are they crazy?!" Burton couldn't help but interject, but didn't notice that he was trembling so much that he almost bit his lip.

Everyone looked at each other, and finally, a young man spoke tremblingly, whispering.

"I heard that the King's army is also there, and they are with them... They want to avenge Earl Weifute."

This news was like a basin of ice water, pouring from the top of Burton's head to the soles of his feet, almost extinguishing his soul.

He returned home, becoming suspicious, not daring to go out all day, not even daring to look at the sunlight, as if that light would burn him.

His wife didn't understand his excessive reaction, thinking he was haunted by a ghost. It was a pity that there was no priest in this village, and there was no one in the town next door, so he didn't know who to find if he wanted to pray.

The nightmares were getting more and more frequent.

At first, it was when he was dozing off during the day, and later Burton was awakened by nightmares all night long.

He repeatedly told himself that he was just a groom, hadn't killed anyone, and hadn't robbed anything...

Okay.

He indeed hadn't robbed, but he had indeed helped that group of bandits move, even if he was forced to.

Burton could swear that he never clapped his hands and cheered when he saw blood splashing like that group of madmen who were red-eyed with killing, completely regardless of whether they should die or not.

Perhaps Saint Xisi heard his repentance.

But didn't forgive him.

On a sunny afternoon, Burton was teaching his nine-year-old son how to repair the house beam, and while talking, he talked about his experience in raising horses.

He spoke very messily, and his son listened with a look of confusion, his mind having long flown to his little friends outside the window.

Burton himself was also very anxious; he should say one thing at a time, and educating children was like raising horses, both needing patience.

However, he always had a sense of urgency in his heart, as if a voice in the dark was reminding him that many things would be too late if not taught now.

This room didn't need any heroes, but it needed a house beam.

His home needed it too.

And just when he was talking about which uncle he should go to when the pot at home was broken, the half-covered wooden door was kicked open with a "bang."

Burton was startled, and before he had time to shout "It wasn't me," he was splashed with wood chips and fell on his son.

Or maybe he wasn't blocking him, but out of some instinct of a father, he wanted to protect his child.

Several inquisitors wearing black robes stood at the door like death gods, carrying several soldiers wearing armor, and the dazzling sunlight pulled their shadows long.

The person in the lead held a piece of rough cloth pulp paper, on which a long list of neatly written names was listed. Perhaps even the owners of these names were knowing for the first time that their names were written like that.

Their names were recorded in writing for the first time, which was on the Inquisition's list. As for how these names were listed, it didn't matter to the people written on it.

Their interrogation methods weren't as primitive and barbaric as the Green Forest Army, but the means were only more, and every tool was cast from steel.

"Burton?"

The leading inquisitor spoke coldly, his voice like two iron plates rubbing against each other.

Burton couldn't speak, only covering his son's eyes tightly, regardless of the latter's panic and struggle, his face full of despair.

"No! You found the wrong person! He is a good person!" Burton's wife screamed and rushed up, holding onto a soldier's leg tightly, crying and shouting at these people wearing black robes, "He is just an honest and duty-bound groom! Our family has been working for Earl Weifute for a lifetime, we haven't done anything!"

The soldiers were unmoved.

Where could two reeds stop them, who were tall and big? With just one kick, they kicked the woman who was in the way into the corner of the wall.

"Get out! It's none of your business." The soldier scolded with a face full of murderous aura, his fist holding the sword hilt creaking.

It would be fine if Earl Weifute wasn't mentioned.

Thinking of that general who was loyal to the family, he wished he could chop all these guys who sold their souls to Chaos!

The inquisitor didn't speak, just looked coldly at the family in the room; they still had to go to the next house immediately.

If the tumor wasn't thoroughly cleaned up, the tragedy would only be staged again and again; this was not only for the peace of the Shengcheng, but also for the people living in this remote frontier.

Burton was cold all over, his blood seeming to freeze in an instant.

The defense he had rehearsed countless times in his mind was now like being blocked by a stone, stuck in his throat and unable to squeeze out a word.

In the face of that absolute violence, language had lost its meaning.

He was roughly handcuffed behind his back, cold shackles locked his wrists, and he was dragged out of the door like dragging livestock.

He didn't struggle, nor did he shout; under that extreme fear, his whole body was as stiff as wood.

He saw his son's terrified face with his peripheral vision, and the skinny woman in the corner of the wall. Her lips opened and closed as if wailing silently, and her dull eyes had no light.

Perhaps, he should say goodbye.

The sunset sunlight seemed more dazzling than the afternoon, dyeing the weed-grown land blood red, or perhaps that was blood itself.

Fortunately, the inquisitor also felt that he had no value, or the number of people here was already enough.

The executing soldier didn't torture him like the Green Forest Army tortured their own people; a gunshot ended his sins and humiliation, whether they existed or not.

For the whole night, the village was quiet, and it wasn't until the people from the Inquisition left that they dared to collect the bodies for those people.

And the so-called collecting bodies was just loading the pile of corpses like a small mountain onto a cart, pulling them to a nearby mountain ditch and dumping them.

Some people lay on their relatives and cried, and some people whispered a sentence—

"Those few priests were quite good, and even transcended their souls."

The farmers who died in the past didn't have this treatment; occasionally, there would be priests passing by here with the caravan, but those who could summon the Holy Light were still a very small minority.

And even if they could summon the Holy Light, not every priest would pray for the dead for free like Kalian.

The villagers who came back pushing the flatbed cart whispered and discussed.

Some people were glad to have escaped a disaster, some people began to thank the Holy Light for not letting go of a bad person, as if the pigs in the pigsty were exchanging weight loss experiences, proud that they were not afraid of the shadow, and only those who sold their souls to Chaos would fear the Holy Light.

There were also some people who felt that they had killed the wrong person, but were afraid that the Inquisition would open to their own home tomorrow, so they silently closed their mouths.

The purpose of deterrence was achieved.

However, no one noticed that a child who was waiting at the door for his father to return home didn't cry, and the light of hatred was burning in those young eyes.

Poor little Burton finally didn't learn how to choose mules and horses and repair house beams, but he remembered those faces.

And their clothes.

He swore—

If one day, he could become the hero waving a great sword in his father's mouth, he would definitely kill all these guys who rushed into his house! ===== CHAPTER 472 =====