Chapter 47

“Bad! The heretic has captured the Angelic Spirit! Watch out for friendly fire!” Mad shouted, his charge slowing to a halt; everyone was bewildered, unsure what to do—how could there be an angel in the enemy’s hands?

The Holy Charge, if it cannot build speed, if it cannot unify everyone’s strength, is not holy at all.

But what followed next struck even deeper—the heretic, that skeleton, was cradling pure holy light, and the adorable angel was scooping that holy light straight into its mouth.

Are the angel and the skeleton allies?

To ordinary people, this scene would seem absurd—but to these devout knights, it was a blow to their faith: an angel and a skeleton working together? A heretic wielding holy light?

Ang's Purification technique was upgraded: four strikes instead of sixty, and now it only absorbed eighteen to fill—yet the total energy reached the equivalent of seventy prior strikes, proving the Angelic Skeleton’s capacity to hold energy had increased.

But at this moment, the knights halted.

They simply could not launch a Holy Charge against a skeleton holding holy light and an angel—even if three or five among them held firm conviction, they could not overcome their comrades’ hesitation; even Mad himself hesitated, so the Holy Charge could not be initiated.

Seeing them stop, Ang also stopped. To be honest, he was confused—he wasn’t a battle skeleton, he had no strong desire to fight, unless someone burned his fields.

He’d only come to observe the enemy, like someone stopping to watch a street brawl—why did they instantly radiate hostility toward him?

Though confused, Ang’s response was swift—he pulled the Angelic Skeleton in front of himself, preparing to unleash Holy Radiance.

But since the enemy had stopped, he also grabbed hold of the Angelic Skeleton again—Holy Radiance would melt away all flesh and skin from the angel skeleton; though it wouldn’t hurt, it would shock and drain the soul, so he avoided using it if possible.

Mad shouted from afar: “Evil skeleton, what have you done to the Angelic Spirit? Release the angel at once! Or I shall shatter your soul and let you scream in despair within holy light!”

“Release the Spirit! Release the Spirit!” The moment Mad finished, his knights chorused in perfect unison, showing excellent coordination.

Ang tilted his head, confused, and let go of the Angelic Skeleton—why should he release it?

Because Ang had been holding the Angelic Skeleton, Holy Radiance hadn’t been released; now that he let go, the skeleton acted as if given an order—it stepped forward, spread its wings, and pushed both hands outward.

As the Angelic Skeleton spread its wings, Mad sensed danger and shouted: “Watch out! Form a line! Overlap the Holy Shields!”

The knights, well-trained, obeyed instantly—they dismounted as one, scrambled behind Mad, and lined up shoulder to shoulder.

The last knight crossed his arms into a cross, a Holy Shield forming before him, then shoved it forward, bracing his arms against the back of the knight ahead.

The shield passed through his companion’s body, appearing before him; that knight did the same—crossing arms, pushing forward—shield upon shield, layer upon layer, until the shield before Mad had become a massive, thick wall.

“Tsk tsk tsk, these guys are elite—this kind of coordination must’ve taken years to cultivate. But they’re so rigid. Ang had already grabbed the Angelic Skeleton—you told him to let go?”

Negrilis burst out laughing as he watched—only he could see the irony, because he knew Ang too well: you were the ones who told Ang to let go.

Still, the enemy’s reaction speed impressed him—their coordination was flawless. How rigorous must their training have been to achieve this? Too bad—they’re dead.

They shouldn’t have advanced alone. Ten knights dared to chase after him? Worse—they stopped. Worse still—they dismounted. No matter how disciplined or coordinated, they couldn’t ignore basic battlefield rules.

It was clear: easily breaking through Ice City had bred arrogance and complacency in these enemies.

Holy Radiance—a flash of white light struck first the horses ahead; where the light touched, the horses vaporized instantly.

Then the holy light slammed into Mad’s shield—BOOM! The thick shield shattered. Mad shuddered as if struck by a siege log; his comrades behind him were thrown into a tangle.

“H-Holy Radiance?” Mad struggled to his feet, staring in disbelief at the distant angel now reduced to black ash.

It was truly Holy Radiance. Truly the Angelic Spirit. Truly holy power.

If Mad were a heretic, he might have sensed something missing from this holy light—something targeting heretics. But he wasn’t, so to him, this power was indistinguishable from true holy light.

Why? Why did holy power appear on a heretic? Why did the Angelic Spirit attack them?

To answer this question, Mad drew his longsword and pointed it forward: “Knights of the Holy Order—advance! Destroy the heretic!”

The shields and horses had absorbed most of the holy light’s force—they suffered little damage and retained most of their combat capability, though only three of ten horses remained; many skills requiring mounts were now impossible.

To maintain unity, no one mounted the three intact horses—they chose foot combat, advancing in small steps with Mad at the front.

Negrilis shook his head: “Too bad—if they’d seized the horses now, maybe three could’ve escaped.”

Behind them all, Philin stood with eyes closed, gripping a finely crafted staff planted firmly on the ground; atop the staff, a wisp of soul twisted into a face, two hollow eye sockets burning with flame—Philin’s pet, Blackface.

From above, thousands of skeletons rose from the ground, pits, and ditches, converging into two streams that flanked the knights.

Philin’s soul wasn’t strong—he hadn’t formed a Soul Core, weaker even than Lisha. After Ang formed his Soul Core, his soul strength surpassed both Philin and Lisha.

But a lich cannot be judged by soul strength alone—they wield magic, and Philin was a necromancer.

Humans have a saying: Never measure a necromancer’s power by numbers—he can dig up forces many times greater than your own.

This refers to the skeletons and zombies a necromancer can control.

A diligent necromancer, hardworking and persistent, always gathers a hundred or so corpses and bones, then uses magic to raise them—single-handedly, one necromancer can match a hundred-man army.

If that necromancer is also a lich and a city lord, with enough lifespan, authority, and time to collect corpses—even crudely arm them—he can summon an undead army.

Philin possessed over ten thousand skeletons and zombies—that’s why he was the underground city’s lord; with him guarding it, no one dared provoke the city.

But he could command only about a thousand skeletons or zombies at once—no more.

The advancing knights soon realized they were surrounded: “Lord Mad, we’re surrounded!”

Mad glanced left and right, sucked in a sharp breath, and ordered instantly: “Retreat! Break out!”

They numbered only ten—if trapped in the undead encirclement, exhaustion alone would kill them.

“Think you can run?” Aske swung his staff, firing several Deathlight Arrows.

“Think you can run?” Lan slammed her palm on the ground—three spikes erupted from the earth.

“Think you can run?” Lisha whipped her hand—a beam of light chain shot out, wrapping toward the enemy—Holy Radiance Chain.

But their enemies were disciplined, perfectly coordinated knights.

Two knights raised Holy Shields behind them to block the Deathlight Arrows. Mad punched the ground—Holy Shock, shattering the spikes instantly.

One knight leapt into the air, curled his head in his arms, and charged straight into the Holy Radiance Chain, letting it bind him; when he landed rigidly, two comrades caught him and carried him off.

A seamless, fluid maneuver—no loss of breakout speed.

The weakness of Philin’s side—lack of strong melee fighters—became clear: if they couldn’t delay the enemy long enough for the undead horde to close in, the ambush would fail, and luring the knights back into the trap would be nearly impossible.

At that moment, a blade’s radiance slashed from the direction the knights were breaking out—Mad cried out in horror: “Such a powerful blade slash—it’s a Sword Saint! Dodge!”