Chapter 295

"Heh..."

Facing this torrential arrow rain, Stirling let out a light chuckle, not only not dodging, but even showing a hint of excitement in his eyes.

"Foolish, do you think we holy knights only carry one weapon, or that I really need that weapon?!"

Under the effect of the spatial magic item, his mithril battle armor vanished instantly; he casually pulled off his shirt and flung it away, revealing the black vest underneath and his exaggeratedly muscular lines.

But silence in words doesn't mean calm in action; as both are accustomed to wild, all-out fighters, their clash frequency may be low, but the quality far surpasses that of the reckless pair—almost every strike is a near-fatal duel.

"My holy guard knights have suffered massive losses!"

The undead didn't understand what had happened, but the spirits were already shrieking in anger; the holy knight just knocked down suddenly sprang up and, with his battle axe, chopped off his own head vigorously—who exactly is the weird one here?!

After regrouping the holy guard knights, Tennith, who still had some reserves, also joined the battlefield by stepping on his lance; upon landing, a casual shockwave scattered a swath of skeletons.

The Feather Person, flying proudly in the air, could hardly believe his eyes—how did a single moment turn his gorgeous hair into shreds?

As for her actual existence, the combat talent that could make her a magic warrior...

Unlike the increasingly passionate battle between the Feather Person and Stirling, the death knight and AdaiEr maintained a noble silence after declaring war.

Having his little trick exposed, the Feather Person didn't bother hiding; magical energy surged on his claws as he dove down, coordinating with his wings to launch a fierce assault like a sudden storm.

"Er, huh? Aunt Tennith, what did you say?"

But AdaiEr is still too young; as an unlucky child who discovered, before finishing his studies, that his household register had only his own page left, all her combat training so far has been merely beginner-level, and even a few days of crash combat practice hardly makes her proficient.

"Aunt, I think I saw it, but… uh, I forgot!"

Consequently, despite having a rich variety of ever-emerging weapons as aid, after a bout of clashing AdaiEr still ended up at a disadvantage; only thanks to this incredibly sturdy heavy exterior armor could she continue fighting, rather than being pried open like a can.

As an abstinent succubus, she can actually understand some junior cultivators, as well as adults who fantasize they are still junior cultivators, about the beautiful image of a mature older sister—but…

After difficulty sitting in the chair beside her, she drank a big gulp of water before her racing heart settled back into place,

With her hand over her heart atop a thick natural cushion, Tennith waved them away after deleting these followers' memories.

"I~say~do you know where Eleanor is?"

Although the current followers of the Holy Light form a weak and bullyable nation, the Holy Light Church has never been a force that lets itself be trampled upon since ancient times.

But it doesn't matter; this place is protected by the God of Holy Light, the blessed ground where the god-chosen were born; as long as she wishes, she can always…

"Ten years ago, when I was still a child, Bishop Aunt patted my head; although I now have a son, I really wish to be patted again."

Looking at the endless horde of undead surging forward before the knights: what do you say?

That's how short-lived and long-lived species talk: you call me brother, I call you dad, each to their own…

However, what the Feather Person waved was no longer just feathers; as a bloodline naturally gifted in wind magic, he began to secretly mix in private goods via shadows in his assault, and invisible wind blades fell accordingly.

"Alright, Talia, don't say another word—good heavens, once this is over, you'd better spend eternity copying Holy Light doctrine! Here you are… the most abnormal!"

She sprang up suddenly, stumbled back to her office, yanked the bookshelf down and flung it aside, then pulled a box out from the wall.

But what came back was Stirling's successive counterattacks of wind from his blocks; one Holy Light punch even nearly struck his face, the scorching heat singeing a few strands of his hair.

While speaking, she turned with a stern face, only to find that the spot where a little dwarf should have been standing was empty.

But now is not the time to be dazed on the battlefield; the Feather Person's shock lasted only an instant before switching to anger, as darker purple ghostly energy surged on his back wings.

This is the symbol of an archbishop within the Holy Light Church's internal divisions; if it weren't for not wanting such an exalted position to make others overly tense, this would be Tennith's proper title.

Running over, she flung up all the cushions and pillows on the sofa, then searched every drawer under the table; Tennith walked out of the room, tap-tap-tap.

Arriving at the nearby shelter, she lifted an elderly nun from among the praying monks and asked urgently.

But besides being a personal name, Stirling is also the name of an external combustion engine and a submachine gun, which means he…

However, the death knight's mood isn't easy either; facing this strange thing that could pull out various weapons at any moment, anyone would feel a bit hesitant to act, especially since he mistook the Winchester shotgun for some weird magic staff, only to nearly be greeted in the forehead by a 12-gauge shell.

—What the Holy Light Church wants is to let the toughest person wield the biggest weapon, emit the brightest Holy Light, and defeat the strongest enemy!

"Ah, although I swore I wouldn't use this again, and I want to become a pure-hearted, desireless Holy Light bishop who respects others' minds, but…"

It's unfortunate that when someone climbs high enough, anything can degenerate into a stepping stone for reaching this level, even so-called talent.

"Hah?"

The two duels have thus entered a stalemate, but no matter how long they still need to decide a winner between them, the main battlefield with the most participants is about to collapse.

And in order to timely respond to the opponent's offense or even rush over to give him a fierce blow, AdaiEr also used her high magical affinity as a magic warrior to sense the death knight's positioning and movements; sometimes, to lure the enemy into acting, she would feign panic and fling a few undead heads into the air.

Amid the doubtful gazes of the monks, she wiped her eyes, took off something from above, and when she lifted her head again, her eyes were deep purple.

"Oh~~~"

The two, having exerted their full strength, instantly became the fiercest element on the battlefield; continuous collisions kicked up a howling wind, blowing away all the surrounding snow, and the snowflakes caught in it didn't even have time to land before being shattered by the heat and gale from the impact—it seemed, in a daze, as if a patch of spring had been opened up amidst a heavy snowfall.

"My warriors can't hold on…"

And AdaiEr is wholly devoted to the great undertaking; her mind is full of where to swing the next chainsaw, her overloaded brain even making white steam rise from her crown—if viewed from the back of her head, she looks like a freshly steamed bun.

Tennith had no choice but to keep raising her voice.

Even though the judgment of victory in a fantasy world war often rests on the strength of top-tier combatants, when the core forces are evenly matched, the burden of deciding the outcome falls on ordinary soldiers.

Thus, what lay in the box appeared to be a short white rod with light gold trim, but if you slowly pulled it out, you'd discover it was actually a lance three meters long!

A rag can indeed wipe dirt, but when the grime is so thick that the rag itself becomes dirt, any effort is futile.

The holy knight's fists surged with ever brighter Holy Light; dense arcs of light danced, forming an impervious shield wall—not even a feather could breach his defense.

But no matter how, defeat was inevitable; as the radiance faded, the front line of knights collapsed completely, drowned in the corpse tide—if not for the second rank of knights fearlessly raising shields and spears to hold the line, the Sheng Guang Jiao Tang would have been overrun.

This is also the fundamental reason why Holy Light cultivators dislike swords and staves, preferring axes, hammers, and greatswords—the same heavy weapons favored by adventurers and beastmen.

And her final conclusion was…

Stirling immediately sensed the Feather Person's plot, yet instead of dodging even a bit, he further ignited the Holy Light within him; despite sustaining several bloodied gashes, he still pressed the front line forward a notch while the Feather Person was distracted.

"Eleanor, I know I shouldn't have let you go, but the situation is urgent, and you, as…"

The Holy Light and gale bursting forth drew everyone's attention; even the death knight, who had been dueling that huge iron lump for dozens of rounds, couldn't help but glance sideways.

After speaking, his arms instantly turned into two phantoms; bright Holy Light wrapped in the sky's wind and snow blocked the incoming arrow storm, shattering every imminent threat.

"You think you're pretty good at catching, huh? Well then, today I want to see just how much you can actually catch."

The death knight became mute because, back when he used to hang around the Holy Light Church, he wasn't good with words, and the dog lich in charge of the transformation ritual had a screwed‑up brain, which directly ruined his throat; now when he talks he just utters uh‑uh‑ah‑ah, and after seeing enemies confusedly scratch their ears a few times, he simply chooses not to speak.

???

"Grandma Taliya, have you seen Father Elinor?"

"Bishop Tennith, I really like you; for you, I'll recite the Holy Light Scripture backwards!"

... Moreover, the degree of their hair loss and shedding is absolutely the sum of theirs; it's so chaotic and brutal.

"Now, lost lambs, obey me."

Tennith: Holy shit!

And the holy light within them merely stirred for a moment, then calmed down because the caster bore no malice.

To gain more attack opportunities and a chance to break through, the death knight let his mount— which had almost been cleaved in two by a chainsaw— withdraw from the battlefield, and he walked around the mech brandishing his longsword with one hand; sometimes, to distract the enemy, he would deliberately step back a few steps, feigning an attack on those holy knights.

If it weren't for the demon's relatively long lifespan, and if Tennith didn't occasionally keep himself in shape, today he would have been able to witness the dead world.

"Ahhh, I've got one foot in the grave— how can I face my comrades who lived and died together back then?"

The archbishop arrived at the cathedral's rooftop with a spear; at this moment, the holy knights' second line of defense was also wavering on the brink of collapse, and her forces had suffered heavy losses.

Tennith nervously wiped the fine sweat from his forehead, extended both hands, and performed a solemn Holy Light salute.

With bare hands he pulled off a finger‑thick chain, ripped off a lock made of refined steel, and Tennith opened this secret box whose material strength could withstand a fifth‑circle spell.

Alright, then, does our great and glorious Holy Knight Order have confidence?

The holy light stones hidden underground were triggered; the heroic spirits attracted and circling above them were awakened, and with the aid of the Holy Light Grand Healing they returned to their bodies, which had already been healed as good as new.

Ji Ming wasn't the first to discover the hidden effect of sleep‑type magic; Tennith used magic to forcibly control their brains in order to obtain the most complete, clearest, and most accurate memory.

Having no choice, she called out a few monks who were relatively familiar with Elinor, or who claimed to have seen Elinor, and took them to the nearby reception room.

"Hey, you flat‑haired beast! No matter how many times you unleash your attacks, I'll still beat you the same way!"

Tennith was anxious as fire, about to take action immediately, but after a moment's hesitation he lowered his voice.

Unlike the old demon who looks young on the outside, this is an old lady who is consistent inside and out; she blinks her dim eyes and speaks with a toothless, pursed mouth.

"Ribbit, you really think I only know how to flap my wings, you dog? Come feel the wrath of our Shadow Feather People!"

Although the thick doctrine appears to contain many precepts and many rules for believers, what it really wants to express boils down to a single sentence.

Elinor went out together with the previous rescue team...

"I really want to be Bishop Tennith's high‑heeled shoes, but Bishop Auntie never wears them, so I cried."

Under the congestion of layer upon layer of walking corpses, the wall of light before the cathedral gate gradually became thin and fragile; Bishop Tennith, watching all this, couldn't help but grip his staff and sigh.

"You want to go all out with me, you want to bare‑arms train with me, huh? Fine, I'll accompany you!"

The old lady smiled, drew out her tone, raised a finger, and spoke slowly.

"How much? Then let's take a look!"

But the Holy Light God has spared her; will the monks spare her? Already, in her gradually roughening breath, she begins to go crazy.

The high‑rank demon's charm spell is still top‑notch, let alone when it comes from a venerable, high‑standing old bishop.

In just the time it takes to say a sentence, the monks— men and women, old and young— immediately had pink hearts appear in their eyes.

First, first, sea defense board.

"Phew, thanks for the lord's mercy of not killing."

He pointed a dazzling light ball at his fingertip; the archbishop was about to announce the moment of counterattack when a familiar voice pierced his ear.

"Tennith, what are you doing? How come you get all excited like a little girl just because you haven't seen me for a moment?"