The Lich of Glory Knight Spirit: Moving towards Krimasha!
Chapter 112 - 40: Black and White (7)

Chapter 112: Chapter 40: Black and White (7)

By the break of dawn, Yilin had already led the main force more than ten kilometers away from Lion King City.

The long army stretched across the land.

Along the way, villagers came out of their homes to see them off. There were women holding children and old men with canes. They just stood silently, without any expression or sound, but their gazes were enough to make every soldier hang their head low.

After half a year, the White City Group ultimately retreated from Lion King City. Although their army size had doubled, they felt defeated, and everyone was dejected.

"Why did we leave like this? We have so many people; we could totally control Lion King City."

"Because the Holy Knights didn’t permit us to use violence against civilians."

"Are those people civilians? They threw stones at the Holy Knights, and we should tolerate them?"

"Just kill a few, and they’ll definitely quiet down!"

"Shut up! We’re the Holy Knights’ army! This isn’t our discussion topic! We do whatever the Holy Knights say!"

"Yes~" the soldiers replied reluctantly, dragging their voices.

Each person was downcast because they had lost in a war that logic suggested they shouldn’t have lost.

Bob, sitting behind Carl’s horse, blinked his big eyes and asked Yilin, "Will we ever come back?"

"I don’t know," Yilin replied softly, "Do you not want to leave?"

Bob blinked as he looked toward Lion King City, hesitantly saying, "My brothers’ graves are in Lion King City. I’m afraid no one will lay flowers for them anymore."

Then, as if he thought of something else, he quickly put on a childish smile and changed his tune, "But, I’m happy to go to White City too. Really. I am the Holy Knights’ squire; wherever the Holy Knights go, I should go."

Yilin gently patted his head.

"Don’t you want the throne?"

"No," Bob shook his head and said, "The Holy Knights’ squire wouldn’t crave power."

Yilin smiled comfortingly.

...

The sunlight fell slantingly, shining through the dense forest.

Gray came riding from afar. Besides his own horse, he was leading Andrew’s horse.

From far away, Gray couldn’t help but pause because he saw Shelley had returned to her original form.

Again, from a distance, Shelley paused too because she saw Andrew tied up and sitting behind Gray on the horse. She recognized him immediately as the Blood Elf who had forced her to drink the potion.

"Is your curse lifted (Are you okay)?"

Both of them asked simultaneously, stunned.

Andrew, behind them, rolled his eyes, "The potion only works at night; during the day, it automatically returns to normal."

"Why use such a strange potion?" Vivian asked Andrew in her mind.

"Because the moment of transformation is the most shocking. If one attempt fails, transforming several times works to our advantage."

"You should make a potion that only demons can break, that would be thrilling!"

"If I could make a potion that only demons can break, I wouldn’t have been captured by you," Andrew replied, deflated.

Gray loosened the reins and dismounted.

Shelley flew into Gray’s arms, hugging him tightly. She pressed her face against the cold armor, closed her eyes, and smiled sweetly, yet felt a sense of warmth.

The two young vampires nearby sighed helplessly.

Gray pulled out the antidote Catherine gave him, "Drink this, and you’ll never transform again."

"Oh, I thought I wouldn’t transform anymore; do I still have to drink it..." Shelley looked troubled but accepted the bottle anyway. Upon uncorking it, a pungent smell immediately filled the air. Shelley’s brows furrowed even more, "Can I not drink it?"

"No, you have to drink it so you won’t transform again," Gray replied.

"Alright then." Shelley took a deep breath, pinching her nose, and gulped it down. After drinking, she kept sticking out her tongue.

"How is it? How do you feel?" Gray asked urgently.

"It... it’s spicy, very spicy," Shelley said, aggrieved. Then, suddenly, she smiled again and hugged Gray, "But it’s okay, since it’s from you, I’ll drink it no matter how bad it tastes, even if it’s poison."

"Is this enough?" Gray asked Catherine.

"Yes," Catherine’s voice echoed in Gray’s mind.

In the morning sun, riding on horseback, the group... I don’t even know how many people there are exactly, anyway, four horses. The four horses began to head south, swaying. Andrew, without a doubt, was the least happy among all of them.

"Why did you tie him up?" Shelley, sitting in front of Gray’s horse, asked softly, "I mean, why not find a place to throw him away?"

"Because he says he wants to be my servant, but I don’t trust him yet," Gray replied.

"Ah? You want to take this disgusting guy as a servant?" Shelley looked repulsed.

"Hey hey hey, what are you saying? You actually called me disgusting?" Andrew snapped.

"Isn’t that true?" Shelley glared at Andrew, confrontational.

"Fine, I am, I am. Whatever you say." Helpless, Andrew turned his face away, refusing to look at her.

As a handsome Blood Elf, this was the first time a human woman had called him disgusting. Obviously, this woman had a problem with her aesthetics.

Rolling her eyes at Andrew, Shelley whispered to Gray, "Where are we going now?"

"Back to White City. I’ve already ordered Carl to escort everyone back to White City. All of us will return to White City, taking Bob with us."

"That’s good, Lion King City isn’t a good place. I never want to come back."

"Mainly because I didn’t do a good job with the reform."

"It’s not your fault, it’s those people who are too stupid," Shelley pouted indignantly, "Those guys even threw stones at you."

"We can’t blame them; it was my fault. The Holy Spirit never complained about his people being foolish, right? We should face them with a tolerant heart. If they don’t understand, we should enlighten them instead of complaining or mocking. It was my incompetence that led to this outcome. But, with this experience, I’ll be more cautious next time, and there won’t be any problems."

"There’s a next time..." Shelley was stunned.

"Progress always comes from repeated failures; we shouldn’t let setbacks obstruct our path. As long as we don’t give up, we haven’t truly failed, right?"

"Alright then..."

Gazing at the sunrise, Gray spoke softly, "But before that, I need to figure out the food crisis. It was my fault that led to it; no matter what, I can’t ignore it. The Holy Spirit wouldn’t abandon humanity, and I won’t abandon them either. The retreat is only temporary; we’ll return to White City first, then I’ll travel to different countries seeking food aid to overcome the crisis."

"You’ll travel to various countries... can I go with you?" Shelley asked with wide eyes.

"The journey will be long and arduous."

"I’m not afraid of hardship; I’m just worried... worried that you’ll be taken away," Shelley said angrily, "The royal capitals of various countries will surely be filled with people trying to flirt with you. That’s scary, I need to stick by your side. Otherwise, I won’t be able to sleep peacefully."

"Alright then," Gray said helplessly, "I’ll take you along. But it will be a long journey, you need to be mentally prepared."

"As long as you’re there, I’m not afraid of anything!" Shelley said excitedly, hugging Gray tightly.

The morning sun shone obliquely, dispelling the darkness and cold of the night.

Everything felt like a cycle; after despair came hope and new beginnings. Life always has its ups and downs, key is not giving up, right?

*The only one who can defeat yourself is you. At least, Gray believed this.*

...

At this moment, many people were experiencing the same alternation of despair and hope, such as the author of "Knight’s Maturity Guide."

The crazed Lion King City still echoed with merry shouts from residents, which sounded like the whisperings of demons to the author.

Sitting at his desk, looking at the thick stack of manuscripts, he was on the verge of tears.

"Damn it, what should I do? The Holy Knight’s reputation is so bad now, no one will buy his book anymore. Selling it might even get me beaten up... asking the King for the final payment is impossible too. Did I write this book for nothing?" he grabbed his hair frantically, making his already messy hair worse.

"Wait! Maybe I can do this, vilify the Holy Knight! It’s a story about the Lich Knight anyway, I just need to make some changes!" A flash of inspiration struck, and the author screamed in excitement, "I’ll weave the Holy Knight’s incidents into the story, making it a novel hinting that the Holy Knight is the Lich! Readers will definitely buy it, maybe I’ll even win an award or two, and the King will be willing to pay the final payment! Hahaha, I’m a genius! It’ll definitely sell like hotcakes! Definitely!"

The small room was filled with the author’s sinister laughter, beginning his unscrupulous writing again.

...

Of course, some people’s despair was genuine, like His Majesty the King.

The treasury doors slowly opened, Benedict II stood stunned, looking at the empty vault. Well, not entirely empty, there were still two gold bars. But, just two.

"Where’s my money? Where did all my money go?"

"Your Majesty, your money was handed out to the poor by the Holy Knight."

"In just a few months, he distributed all the Sharp Family’s savings accumulated over hundreds of years?"

"Although I don’t want to say this, Your Majesty, I’m afraid so. However, don’t worry, we still have substantial financial surplus, but unfortunately, you’ve agreed to distribute the monthly financial surplus to the poor too."

Benedict II took step after step backward, his expression dazed.

"It’s fine, we still have the Royal Family’s lands, rents! I can use the rents to recruit an army! Then, I can change the political system however I want!"

"But... Your Majesty," the palace steward said awkwardly, "The Royal Family’s lands were also distributed to the poor by the Holy Knight."

"So, what do I have left now?"

"Um... you have Lion King Palace? Perhaps we can turn it into a hotel or a tourist spot?"

With a "slap," Benedict II slapped the palace steward across the face, "Get out---!"

...

Anyway, that’s how things were.

In June 10754, a year after Gray arrived on the surface world, the White City Group’s retreat marked the end of Isaac’s brief Holy Knight era, returning to royal authority. The crisis of the Church also seemed to be resolved.

Of course, it only seemed so.

The waves of history surged forward, with noise and mockery.

Holy Knight Gray was growing, the sacred seed had sprouted. And this, representing the sacred, might be more terrifying to the Church than evil.

A new crisis had quietly emerged.