Chapter 256: Who Is the True Master Here?

Ang summoned the Death Scythe, but before he could act, a beam of light shot from behind him, striking one of the Black Knight Dukes.

He turned to see the little angel still holding her hands out in a pushing pose, her light wings shattering inch by inch.

Since she learned to manifest light wings, she no longer needed real ones to cast Holy Radiance, but the power dropped by more than half.

Yet Black Knights feared this kind of pure energy attack most, especially when enhanced with extra damage, because their forms were also soul energy, most vulnerable to holy flame.

The beam passed, and the Black Knight Duke dissolved into black smoke and vanished.

The other Black Knight Duke froze, his face stripped of the cruelty from a moment ago, replaced by stunned uncertainty.

But seeing the little angel's wings shattered, his courage returned—he stepped forward, when suddenly a black beam shot from Ang's other side, engulfing the second Black Knight—Death Breath: Shockwave.

The black beam vanished; the Black Knight vanished without a trace.

Ang frowned and turned to the other side, where the little zombie was panting with its tongue out—of course, not air, but thick, fog-like Death Breath.

Seeing Ang look over, the little zombie snapped to attention: "Aow~"

"The little zombie learned Death Breath: Shockwave?" Negril exclaimed.

True, theoretically, any skill Ang mastered could be quickly copied by the little zombie, and he never withheld anything—but the difficulty of Death Breath: Shockwave wasn't in technique, but in the sheer volume of Death Breath.

In places thick with Death Breath, casting it was easier; otherwise, one had to rely on a constant stream of soul energy, like Ang did.

Where did the little zombie get so much Death Breath to use this technique?

These questions rose in Negril's mind, but Ang's heart remained utterly calm—he didn't care why the little zombie could cast it, only that it did. While Negril speculated wildly, Ang had already shouldered his scythe and charged toward the last Black Knight.

The situation reversed instantly: the three-vs-one Black Knight Emperor was now alone.

The Black Knight Emperor acted decisively and turned to flee.

Luo Ge, too, was no match for the Black Knight Emperor in martial skill; three-on-one had been winnable, but now one-on-four? Only a fool wouldn't run.

"Want to run? Can you escape? Beneath the pure moonlight, your steps are thunder." Luo Ge spoke with emotion, as if reciting poetry, his attacks accelerating instantly—blade glints spilled like mercury, seeping everywhere, and with a swift *shhh*, he severed the enemy's arm.

Negril's heart lurched—he hurriedly told Ang: "We're done. Warn Anthony. Luo Ge's read another bizarre, meaningless book again."

As a sensitive, melancholic soul, Luo Ge's greatest enemy was those melodramatic, pointless books—he'd read them and sink into depression.

Lately, to settle the companions from Dark City, Luo Ge had been busy in the Abyss of Rest, and with more free time, he'd surely sought out more strange, meaningless things to read.

The enemy Black Knight abandoned his arm and sprinted faster and faster, his speed creating afterimages—as if he'd grown two extra legs…

Wait—not afterimages. He'd truly grown two extra legs and a horse's head. In mid-sprint, a horse materialized beneath him, hooves pounding as he galloped away.

The Black Knight transformed into a Black Rider, like a wisp of smoke…

A massive fruit landed precisely before the Black Knight Emperor and exploded like a bomb, its seeds scattering like shrapnel across a wide area.

The Black Knight Emperor clapped his palms together, forming a semi-transparent shield. The seeds struck it like rain on leaves—*puf, puf, puf*—then detonated.

The seeds' explosions weren't powerful, but there were hundreds of them. Their cumulative impact stripped the shield clean away.

That wasn't the end—the powder from the exploded seeds spread like mist, blanketing vast space and engulfing the now-defenseless Black Knight Emperor.

The Black Knight Emperor rejoiced inwardly: "May the Light protect me!"—and instantly dissolved his form.

With this mist as cover, how could he fail to escape?

Unfortunately, the Black Knight Emperor had too little experience. When the mist cleared, he found himself frozen in place, utterly immobile.

A unicorn approached, its horn flickering with lightning, eyes gleaming as it stared at him.

The Black Knight Emperor's heart sank—despair rose: How could there be a unicorn?

Unicorns were the natural enemies of all stealthy creatures; pure unicorns saw through all disguises. With a unicorn present, he could never escape using stealth, let alone now that he was inexplicably frozen.

But Lightning had never shown this ability before, because: "That's a skill only pure unicorns have—what does it have to do with me, Lightning?"

Lightning kicked him with one hoof—and the frozen human shape shattered into a pile of sand-like fragments.

"What new fruit is this? So useful—it can even freeze a Black Knight's form!" Lightning exclaimed in disbelief.

A low voice drifted on the night wind: "Tree-gum Explosive Fruit. A new fruit granted to me by the God of Life."

God of Life? Lightning looked up at Ang's head, where the sapling clung to the pot's rim, a single leaf swaying gently in the night breeze, as if asleep.

The shattered remains of the Black Knights were kicked together by everyone, gathered for inspection.

"So strange—can even soul-forms be frozen? What kind of tree-gum is this?" Negril's shell finally caught up, his tiny claw pinching a fragment—it felt exactly like chopped slime.

Luo Ge, too, felt uneasy, pinching a piece: "Too terrifying—the area covered is so vast, impossible to dodge. Is this the true power of the War Tree?"

Luo Ge himself was a Black Knight—he couldn't have dodged a fruit this big either.

A low voice drifted on the night wind: "War has come. You can trust the treemen."

They'd thought it was just a talkative treeman—yet one fruit had eliminated a Black Knight Emperor. They'd struck gold.

Negril exclaimed excitedly: "You're amazing! I'll give you some farm fertilizer later. How do we free him? I need to interrogate him."

"Huh? I don't know—I've never used this fruit before." Gor's voice drifted on the wind.

The fragments were too scattered to reassemble—finally, Ang swung the Death Scythe across the gelatinous shards, drawing out a soul flame.

Negril sternly asked the Black Knight Emperor: "How did you get here?"

…

Anthony, urgently summoned, stared at the tightly bound Black Knight Emperor before him, his face full of questions: "Where are you from?"

Black Knights were artificial undead—this "human" referred to Anthony. He invented the Rebirth Altar and reversed life's form, transforming energy-based undead into semi-material, semi-energy Black Knights.

All Black Knights should be connected to him—how could three he didn't recognize exist?

The Black Knight Emperor spoke slowly: "I come from the Light. You heretics, release me at once—or the wrath of Holy Light shall purify you all!"

His words stunned everyone: "Holy Church? Black Knight? Believes in the Light?"

Negril couldn't help asking: "You call us heretics—aren't you one? Holy Light still purifies you."

"No. I am merely the shadow beneath the Light. Holy Light cannot illuminate all darkness—we are tasked with purifying the filth within shadows." The Black Knight spoke devoutly.

"Ah, I know who you are—Shadow Knight. Do you know Julian?" Negril remembered the Shadow Knight who'd been flung away by the big cat.

The Black Knight stared at him deeply: "So Julian died at your hands."

"No, not us, don't say that—it wasn't us!" Negril denied it, but before he could say more, Anthony shoved him aside.

"Lord Negril, don't interrupt—ask the important questions! This is driving me mad!" Anthony, rarely flustered, was impatient: How did they get sidetracked?

After shoving Negril aside, Anthony stepped forward himself: "How did you become a Black Knight? Where was the ritual performed? Who performed it? Speak—or I'll use my Soul-Search Technique on you."

The Black Knight sneered: "As long as faith is pure, Light will shine upon you. Heretic tricks won't work on me."

Anthony sneered back: "Who's the real heretic? My Light outshines yours."

As he spoke, he summoned Holy Light and pressed it onto the Black Knight's head.

The Black Knight panicked: "Such immense Holy power—you're at least a Grand Archbishop! Who are you?"

After brutal torture and soul-searching, the Black Knight was erased—and Anthony gained the information he sought.

He slumped to the ground, panting: "I think I understand. The Artisan's Eye can deconstruct the principles of anything it sees. One of the Rebirth Altars must have been observed by the Artisan's Eye, so the method of creating Black Knights was learned."

"Artisan's Eye?" Negril asked, puzzled: "Dwarves?"

"Yes. The divine skill of the Dwarven Forge God." Anthony replied, his tone now calm—finally confirmed: no traitor among his own, no secret leaked.

"How did dwarves end up with the Holy Church?" Negril was astonished.

"What's strange about that? Dwarves are now as destitute as refugees. With wine, they'd ally with demons. My fake Earth Holy Hammer was forged by dwarves—I still support a whole clan of them."

"Dwarves are this weak now?" Negril was stunned. These were the children of the God of War and Forge, descendants of Titans—how had they fallen so low?

"Long story. We'll talk later. Lord, you're in trouble—Dai Sen has set his sights on Meishencheng. These Black Knights were his scouts, sent to probe its strength."

Dai Sen was the Grand Archbishop of the Fallen Lands Diocese. Having fought undead on the front lines for years, his forces were arguably the strongest among the three dioceses.

Now the diocese had fallen, and countless survivors fled back—how to settle them became a massive problem.

On the Prime Plane, brute strength meant nothing. Connections, reputation, social maneuvering—none of these were skills these men possessed. Having fought undead for so long, their temperaments had grown blunt and direct.

Within two months, they'd been seduced by money, beauty, and entertainment—creating countless scandals.

Dai Sen took the position of Grand Archbishop of the Western Diocese and settled some of them, but many more had nowhere to go. One position, one person—to place a new one, you had to remove the incumbent.

Many positions were hereditary, with tangled networks of influence—removing one person would shake the entire web, triggering fierce backlash.

If you couldn't remove the old guard, could you create new positions? No—the nobles and merchants refused. Ten positions already existed; adding five more would double their burden—how could they be happy?

Why would five extra mean double the burden? It wasn't math ignorance—it was human nature.

The old guard didn't want it either—they feared new arrivals would dilute their own gains, and they united in resistance.

To maintain harmony within the Church, Dai Sen retreated a step, seeking a location that could house his men without belonging to the original diocese's territory. He scanned the map—and found the Star Republic.

"No, no—those magic maniacs are too dangerous. Strike them out." After eliminating the Star Republic, the fresh, unclaimed Meishencheng became the only target.

At first, Dai Sen's men resisted fiercely: "A new city in the desert? Are you exiling us? My Lord, we've served you for years—maybe no great achievements, but we've earned our hard work. You can't treat us like this!"

Fearing rebellion, Dai Sen immediately projected a 3D magical map. On the table appeared a hologram of Meishencheng—secretly drawn by Church spies. Except for the newly planted War Tree, it matched the real city perfectly—a city shrouded in lush forest.

"So beautiful—is this truly a city in the desert?" These men, returning from the Fallen Lands, couldn't bear such verdant cities—their homeland was barren, so green now felt like home.

"Not just that—look at their industries." Dai Sen passed around Meishencheng's promotional posters and price lists. Gasps never stopped.

Good environment, rich, no entrenched power—a perfect fat sheep. Everyone's mouths watered.

"But aren't they protected by elves? Won't attacking them provoke the elves?" someone hesitated.

"Hah. That's exactly why we're targeting them. In the past two years, the elves have issued two war threats, spreading panic. They never consider—who drove them into the Elven Forest? It's time they feel again the fear of being ruled by humans."

Dai Sen grinned savagely: "Crush Meishencheng. If the elves dare stir, teach them a brutal lesson. This is also the Emperor's will—the Seres Empire and Capricorn Empire have already prepared for war. The Prime Plane belongs to humans. Let them know—who is the true master here."