Chapter 43: The Fall of Hancheng

The quartermaster had argued with Leonhard over launching the Holy Blade.

“The Silver Coin Chairman is deep inside enemy territory gathering intelligence; launching now would put him in grave danger,” said the quartermaster.

Leonhard waved his hand dismissively. “No big deal—he’s over ninety. He can protect himself. If he really does meet misfortune, well, he died serving the Light.”

The quartermaster understood the implication: “At ninety, dying doesn’t matter much.” But Leonhard wasn’t the first to treat life so callously; the quartermaster was long used to it, and shifted topic:

“But we still haven’t traced the source of the Sacred Essence Liquid. If something goes wrong, we’ll lose this supply entirely.”

The quartermaster didn’t understand why Leonhard had suddenly changed his mind. If they couldn’t control the supply, it was better to keep the status quo—at least they still had ninefold profits. Dilute it a bit, and they could easily push it to fourteen or fifteen times.

“What kind of danger? Capture a few, torture them, and they’ll talk. Such a massive volume of essence liquid, with such high purity—there must be a vast natural Holy Mushroom forest. No three or five hundred people could handle it. Catch three or five, and you’ll get the location.” Leonhard dismissed it.

“But…” The quartermaster still wanted to speak, when he received the latest message from Silver Coin: the area had a periodic storm affecting the entire Abyss—no living thing could survive it; all had to find shelter. This would severely disrupt the continuity of the war.

“Enough ‘buts.’ Purifying the Abyss, exterminating heretics, spreading the Light, delivering the Gospel—aren’t these the very goals of our Holy Blade Legion? With the Holy Blade, we cleanse all corruption. If anyone dies for this cause, it is their glory. Go!” Leonhard’s tone had grown impatient.

The quartermaster dared not speak further, bowed his head, and turned away.

Lying lazily for a long while, Leonhard pulled out his Holy Blade insignia. A strange symbol on it was slowly flickering.

The Holy Blade insignia was the highest symbol of authority in the Holy Blade Legion. Each symbol carried its own meaning. This one was called the Maximum Mobilization Order. When it appeared, the Holy Blade Legion had to prepare for maximum mobilization and be ready for battle at any moment.

Since taking the position of Divine Rider of the Holy Blade Legion, Leonhard never believed this symbol would ever light up. He’d paid a fortune to be transferred here—officially to guard the Abyss, but he thought he’d come to retire.

The Holy Blade Legion was stationed in a remote backwater, far from the center of power. The only perks were smuggling Abyss specialties and bedding a few country girls. He’d just found a profitable route—and now, before he could cash in, came the mobilization order. What nonsense.

Leonhard had no patience to wait. He had to seize the profit stream now, grab as much money as possible. He didn’t even know what this mobilization order meant—if it was too dangerous, he’d find a way to get transferred elsewhere.

But everything required money. Making money was the only real thing. As for a few more deaths? Just common peasants—what did it matter? The Holy Blade Legion’s mission was to cleanse the Abyss. Dying for the mission was their glory.

…

When Philin dragged him into the new district of the underground city, Ang saw tens of thousands of wailing refugees.

Only a hundred Holy Blade soldiers had been deployed. With the combined efforts of two Holy Servants, they had teleported the hundred soldiers directly onto the Strait Square before the gates of Hancheng. The earlier 150 tons of grain and the three Silver Coin members had also been teleported to this exact spot.

Teleportation required stricter spatial conditions than a teleportation array. The Strait Square near Hancheng was the most suitable location.

When the grain was teleported, Hancheng had been prepared—weapons and personnel were ready for emergencies. But Anna and Lan had only left that morning, and since they were carrying Silver Coin, they didn’t believe the enemy would attack, so they hadn’t raised their alert level.

By the time the two Holy Servants reached the square and began their positioning ritual, the Hancheng guards had no idea what was happening. Reports climbed up the chain. By the time feedback arrived, a blinding flash erupted—and a hundred fully armed Holy Blade soldiers stood in the center of the square.

Facing fully armed enemies, the guards didn’t need orders to know what to do. They immediately turned their crossbows and prepared to fire—then they witnessed a highly professional siege.

Ten massive, heavily armored shield-bearers carried shields taller than a man. They locked them together on either side, drove the bottom spikes deep into the ground, and held them steady.

Ten priests cast Holy Shields, reinforcing the heavy shields. Transparent, semi-transparent shields shimmered across their surfaces.

Two Holy Knights plunged their greatswords into the ground, knelt on one knee, and gripped the hilts. Auras radiated from their bodies, and everywhere the auras touched, tiny specks of starlight flickered on every soldier.

The Devotion Aura enhanced the defense of all within its range.

With the heavy shields, Holy Shields, and Devotion Aura combined, the entire formation was impregnable.

The rest began preparing. Eight Holy Knights summoned their warhorses—only Holy Knights could summon warhorses. This unit had only ten Holy Knights, meaning at most ten cavalry.

Zzzt! Zzzt! Zzzt! Three bowstrings snapped. Two massive city-defense crossbow bolts slammed into the shield wall; one missed. The bolts that hit shattered at the tips, their shafts splintering into thousands of wood shards.

The Holy Shields on the shield wall shattered first, then the bolts struck the heavy shields. Behind the wall, the shield-bearers hit and their neighbors on either side were jolted like lightning—each spat out a mouthful of blood.

Priests immediately healed them with emergency healing spells, suppressing internal injuries, then followed with Holy Grace to slowly restore more damage.

Of the eight Holy Knights who had summoned their horses, one wore a red cloak. He shouted: “Shield wall—advance!”

The shield-bearers lifted their shields and marched forward, slow and heavy, step by step, perfectly aligned.

“Hallelu—Messiah—Posia—Sismah—Anmaka—” Everyone chanted in unison, a hymn in three-note phrases, synchronizing their steps and maintaining perfect rhythm so the shield wall remained seamless.

The hymn’s lyrics were nothing but praises: “Praise the God, praise the Lord, who gives us clothes, gives us food, grants us no sickness.”

Seeing the crossbowmen ready, the red-cloaked Holy Knight barked: “Halt! Shield!”

The crossbowmen on the wall didn’t know what to do—shoot or not shoot?

Seeing the crossbows held but not fired, the red-cloaked Holy Knight changed his order: “Shield wall—alternate advance!”

The shield wall split in two. One half stood still while the other moved forward a short distance, halted, then the other half advanced. They alternated like this, slowly pressing toward the city wall.

Chaos erupted on the wall. They had never seen such a professional assault.

Because of the Wind of Rest, this world had seen no large-scale war for over a thousand years. Formal siege warfare was nearly nonexistent. Compared to the Holy Blade Legion, Hancheng’s guards were like village militia versus regular soldiers.

When they closed to bow range, the red-cloaked knight raised his hand: “Crossbows—suppress!”

Nearly half the unit carried crossbows. A volley of fifty bolts rained down, pinning the defenders to the wall, unable to raise their heads.

The red-cloaked knight mounted his horse, led the formation forward. With each step, the holy light on their bodies brightened. Leading the eight Holy Knights, he forged an aura of ten thousand charging troops. Invisible power surged between them, culminating in a thunderous roar that shook heaven and earth: “Sacred—CHARGE!”

The combined strength of the eight Holy Knights slammed into the city gate. Splinters of wood flew. Hancheng fell.