Knights and Magic Wand
Chapter 329 - 329 161 Catastrophe

329: Chapter 161 Catastrophe 329: Chapter 161 Catastrophe The disasters brought by war ravaged the land of Mamor County, and the gentle spring breeze failed to disperse the chaos and gloom that enveloped the world.

The refugees who struggled on tough journeys…

Bandits and robbers were rampant, and lawless mercenaries left behind corpses and seas of fire, laughing maliciously as they rode away with a crack of their whips.

The villages of yesteryears had turned into ruins, fields became overgrown with weeds, and bodies were reduced to nameless skeletal remains in the wilderness, gnawed away.

“Failing to recognize divine mandate, they’re trapped in the cycles of reincarnation…”

Perhaps it was the influence of her physical form on her way of thinking; looking at yet another settlement laid waste in exactly the same manner, the female poet murmured in the identity she had now grown accustomed to.

She had seen enough of the catastrophes brought by war, but upon witnessing this land still shrouded in endless folly, enduring the cycles of calamity amid constant conflicts, she would sometimes feel a sense of lament.

This also reminded her that she was, after all, still human.

The truth had also proven to her time and again that only the divine mandate brought by His Majesty, only the order of the Empire, could save everything.

Had it not been for the Empire’s Black Flag removing one silly crown after another, had the legion’s iron hooves not sent each false king into the dust of history…

her own homeland would probably still be repeating this meaningless suffering…

Riding on a horse provided by some “good-hearted” bandits, the female poet, wrapped in a thick cloak, gently urged her horse into the abandoned village.

Even though her guise had been exposed and brought her quite a bit of trouble along the way, she was not yet ready to abandon this identity for the sake of using everything to its fullest advantage.

Furthermore, she was not one of those proficient school mages; truth be told, each complete transformation was a kind of torture for her.

With an extraordinary memory, the female poet didn’t need a map to figure out that the village in front of her was one of the former communication nodes mentioned in the intelligence; soon, according to the rules among the Dark Claws, she dismounted in a corner of the ruins and found the information left by “offline.”

It was another native spy.

The forefront of Thorny Flower Territory had a good idea in establishing an Esoteric Sect, but it was foolish to use the precious supplies from the Empire for profiteering…

She remembered how she had burst into both laughter and anger when Rody informed her that Comforting Spirit Fragrance, transported from Kosos County, had appeared in the black market of Dragon Throat City.

The operatives cultivated in Mamor County were, however, much more reliable than the waste from Farolis City.

Concealed, low-key, silent.

This was natural; if we exclude those Floresians and North People who were constantly attacking the Empire’s fleet, the land underfoot—the Kantadar Kingdom—was after all the first Kingdom the Empire officially started working on in the Western Continent.

Sufficient time and abundant funds naturally could cultivate professional personnel.

In comparison, the Empire’s presence within the Orland Kingdom was quite stretched thin.

She could only hope that the shortage of hands and funds in the North would soon change due to the unexpected turmoil within the Eastern Expedition Faction.

In her view, Kantadar, as a future hindrance and base of operations, was already enough; it was not as important as the Orland in the North.

Years of investigation and assessment had shown that the war potential of the Northern Kingdom was far greater than that of the Southern Kingdom.

If they did not promptly do something about that powerful Kingdom, they would definitely become a severe obstruction to the westward advance in the future.

Clenching the piece of cloth, the female poet ignited a flame in her palm and turned it to ashes.

As the black ashes drifted away with the wind,

She turned her head, following the noise that had just reached her ears, and looked towards the thin figure carefully emerging from behind the ruins.

A dirty-faced child, staring blankly this way.

To be precise, staring at the saddlebags behind the horse.

The child with a face of hunger turned their head, swallowed hard, and in a hoarse voice, pleaded with the female poet.

(In Urian Language) “….

Beautiful big sister, could you give me something to eat?….”

He dared to come out, only because the lady’s face looked less dangerous than that of a bandit.

The poetess didn’t answer but merely patted the ashes off her hands, turned around, mounted her horse, and continued towards the village outskirts, taking hold of the reins.

The starving orphan sat back down amidst the ruins, resigned and waiting for death to come.

Thud—!

A short blade vibrating with a tremor fiercely lodged itself in the wooden wall beside the orphan’s head.

“Ah!!”

The orphan shrieked in fright, startled by the short knife that flew without struggle.

But as the crisp and pleasant sound of metal rang from the poetess’s hand, a shiny gold coin fell before the orphan, rolling twice.

“The direction of the sunset holds a town…

both of these things can save you, or kill you,” the poetess said indifferently to the child, “If you no longer wish to suffer through life, it would be easier to slit your throat, and that gold coin can serve as your toll to bribe the Netherworld Dog.”

It was meaningless; seeing someone else, it was likely that within half a day, the child would be relieved of both the money and the knife.

Perhaps his life would be taken as well.

But the knife wasn’t hers, nor was the money.

With such a casual act, the poetess didn’t care about the outcome.

She continued her journey on horseback, hearing in the distance the grateful, juvenile voice behind her.

“…Thank you!….

Thank you!”

There were not a few who loved her, even more who hated her, but those who thanked her were indeed very rare…

She traveled across the meandering tributaries of the Rushina River to the south, finally leaving Mamor County and arriving at the eastern borders of the Kantadar Kingdom.

Once she entered the mountain forest landmark mentioned in the intelligence reports, the poetess quickly found her destination, the camp.

It was easy because a woman traveling alone on a forest path, like a firefly in the night, could not be overlooked by bandits.

After expending some effort to deal with the overeager brigands, she met with the spy responsible for this area.

The spy, who had gone from mercenary leader to now a bandit chief, knelt down respectfully inside the tent, “Lord Bai Shou, you have finally arrived.

In these past few days, over a dozen of my men have deserted; if it continues for much longer, I won’t be able to stop the others from fleeing.”

“What’s happening to the east?

When did the spy accompanying the army to Seryan lose contact with you?” the poetess asked.

“The contact was lost one hundred and sixty days ago, shortly after receiving the front-line report that the noble lords were assisting the King of Aviut in capturing Rolannar City,” the spy helplessly shook his head, “A few days after capturing the city, the expected messages were delayed, so I immediately sent someone to the Holy Sun Church’s Holy Land City to investigate…

The result is as I described in the letter to you.

Rolannar has become unreachable; all those who tried to enter the city never returned.

The city, shrouded in a mysterious force, swallowed a considerable army from both the Kantadar people and the Urians overnight.

And this terrifying phenomenon is expanding, the range slowly growing larger!”

He said, shivering uncontrollably, “My subordinates have heard that the Urian Wizards who survived the debacle believe that for some reason, Rolannar has become an expanding Cursed Land.

The Kantadar people didn’t believe in curses, so they sent warriors to test it a few times, but in the end, they were forced to retreat from the surroundings of Rolannar…

Before leaving their camp, I even received news from a mole…

it’s possible that the King of Aviut as well as the Imperial officials that had arrived were all trapped in that sinister city on the same day…”

Cursed Land…

a Spirit-like Field?

How could a large-scale Spirit-like Field form so suddenly?

And its range is still expanding?

Unheard of.

And even if it were a Spirit-like Field, with so many powerful Official Position Mages there, they shouldn’t be trapped and unable to escape.

Unless…

unless this Spirit-like Field was a result of their own doing, a backlash from the Spirit Realm…

But how could those Official Position Mages, who had lived for centuries, lose control over the Spirit Realm powers they mastered like an inexperienced apprentice?

The poetess frowned deeply.

Although she had some knowledge of magic, as an Imperial Dark Claw, her mastery was more in the application of magic; the deeply theoretical aspects were somewhat beyond her expertise…