When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist
Chapter 98 - 96: Hmph, Thinking of Escaping?

Chapter 98: Chapter 96: Hmph, Thinking of Escaping?

Under the more than twenty-meter-long Wandou Bridge, the river flows silently in the moonlight.

A bastion stands at the bridgehead of the wooden bridge, with a three-meter-high checkpoint at each end and a shallow trench dug in front of the checkpoints.

In the gaps between horse barricades, spiked stakes, and trenches, hundreds of refugees, blocked in front of the checkpoint, sleep on the ground, shivering in the autumn chill.

Two church flags flutter on the walls, as seven or eight night guard soldiers, with their heads leaned against the parapet, engage in idle chatter.

Suddenly, the ear of a dozing soldier twitched. He stood up, leaning over the parapet, and listened to the wind.

"Hey, wake up, wake up, there’s the sound of hoofbeats."

A torch rises above the parapet, and the refugees below raise their heads in confusion, trying to see what the soldiers are up to this time.

However, some experienced refugees immediately put their ears to the ground, and those near the main road stood up quickly, moving away from the road.

The rhythmic sound of hoofbeats gently shakes the needle-shaped leaves of the fir trees by the roadside.

From the small slope at the end of the road, a tall knight with a beaked helmet leads eight cavalrymen, clad only in breastplates, charging toward the bastion.

Sure enough, any refugee blocking the way or getting too close is lashed with a horsewhip.

The wails and cries wake the refugees sleeping on the ground.

They stand up like zombies brought back to life, staring blankly in the moonlight at the approaching cavalry.

The knight stops before the trench, without speaking, as an attendant steps forward: "We are Knight Barnett’s troop from Tree Hedge Village, sent by Brother Algang, the abbot of Hid Monastery, to deliver an urgent military message, open the gate at once."

The autumn wind makes the torch flicker back and forth, as a breathless middle-aged monk in black scrambles up the stairs to the parapet.

More militia, mostly night guards, have climbed onto the walls.

"It’s late, we’re sealing off the bristle-heads, tomorrow you..." The militia captain’s words are cut short as an arrow thuds into the parapet, making him recoil in shock.

"Urgent military news, it’s urgent, do you know what urgent means?" the attendant cavalryman shouts at them, "If we’re delayed, will you take the punishment for us?"

The militia captains exchange looks of uncertainty.

The tall knight moves forward, shaking the reins, a voice with a youthful, slightly androgynous tone, sounding rather young.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I know you are all devout believers and loyal soldiers, but there truly is important military news. Do you have a monk or someone literate? I have a pass document from Abbot Algang.

As for the bristle-head situation, don’t worry, Lords Belard and Cléante have already trapped them in Xiangshu Village, and by tomorrow morning, you’ll see."

"The bristle-heads have been caught?"

"Great, they’ve finally been caught."

Not only the soldiers on the wall, but even the refugees below feel invigorated. If they had to wait here another three to five days, they’d surely starve.

Soon, a night guard descends in a basket, jogging over to the knight, nodding and bowing all the way.

He doesn’t even dare to look up. Such a tall knight at such a young age is mostly from a noble family, different from those first-generation mud-footed knights.

The young knight doesn’t say much, removing a scroll from his waist and tossing it to the night guard.

The night guard takes the document and quickly runs back, handing it to the monk on the parapet.

"Monk-master, is it okay?"

Several militia captains gather around the lone monk.

"... yes ... quickly, immediately, orderly, decisively, and wholeheartedly support ... an inescapable sense of responsibility, a sense of urgency not to let time pass, a sense of crisis if we don’t move forward..."

By torchlight, the monk reads intermittently.

After a moment, he slaps the document with the back of his hand: "This is indeed penned by Abbot Algang. See, the seal is clear."

"Monk-master, why is there a wavy line at the signature?"

"What do you know? This is Elvin’s signature, that’s how it is. Uh, it might be somewhat casual, but considering Abbot Algang’s age, cut him some slack."

A militia captain nods, shouting down, "Remove the barriers and let the master knight in."

A few servants are dispatched to painstakingly lift the barriers aside, and after the cavalry enter, laboriously put them back in place.

After all, there are still refugees outside. Letting them in and disturbing the master knight is unacceptable.

Nine knights form a long line, entering the gate one by one.

As the gate is about to open, the monk suddenly pokes his head over the parapet: "Wait..."

The previously impatient attendant looks up with annoyance: "Now what?"

"Is this really written by Brother Algang?"

"Of course, is there a problem?" The attendant’s voice wavers slightly.

"Ah, I’m amazed that Lord Algang, at such an age, has made grammatical progress. Throughout the entire text, I couldn’t find a single flaw. I didn’t expect Lord Algang to have such energy and perseverance at his age, I feel ashamed."

Seeing the puzzled expression of the attendant, the monk shakes his head internally. These rough fellows, what would they know about grammar, like winking at a blind man?

"Let them pass." The junior monk shouts to the militia captain defending the city.

"Monk-master, shouldn’t we check again? Didn’t they say those bristle-heads disguise themselves as members of the White Maple Mercenary Corps?"

The monk walks over to the militia captain, grabbing his ear: "Take a good look. Do they look disguised as White Maple Mercenaries?

Indeed, Cléante and Belard went to Xiangshu Village to corner the bristle-heads, both of them sent people to notify us earlier.

Also, those short-haired ones are all peasants, who could be so tall? And this document, how do you explain it?

The knight’s accent is undeniably noble; that trilling and liaison can’t be emulated by peasants."

"Open the gate, let them through."

The winch and chain clattered, its grinding sound piercing the silent night sky.

The heavy oak door slowly lifted, as the monk and the militia captains stood at the entrance to greet the distinguished guests.

"Welcome to..."

Before the monk could finish, the leading cavalrymen lined up, holding buckets, and stared icily at them.

"Splash——"

The cavalrymen poured the icy stream water all over their bodies.

The monk jumped aside just in time, only getting a splash on his shoes, but the rest of the militia captains were soaked through.

Even if he wanted to curry favor with these knights, the monk couldn’t help but get furious.

"You all..."

A white light, bright as daylight, filled the monk’s eyes.

Countless electric snakes crawled through the stream, into the mouths of the screaming militia captains, with the smell of roasted meat and charring simultaneously arriving.

In the doorway, these militiamen trembled all over, limbs twisting unnaturally, as if they were dancing in agony.

When the lightning dispersed, bodies thudded to the ground, lying there, still occasionally twitching.

Behind the leading knight, a young girl raised a battle flag, with electric sparks still flashing in her golden hair.

The leading knight removed the visor, red eyes fixed firmly on the monk.

Behind the knight, three or four dozen soldiers with black clothes and short swords emerged among the refugees, and arrows flew through the air, taking down each of the runners.

Two dozen decree bearers immediately scaled the moat and toppled the barricades, surging towards the gate.

"He’s about to order the gate to be opened." Jia Li shouted towards the back, "The winch is in the top left of the gate."

A sound like a crossbow firing rang out, specially-made short spears whizzed through the air, over the wooden walls, disappearing out of sight.

"Horn, you mountain goat, you missed." Urgently smashing the head of the approaching Night Guard with a warhammer, Jia Li shouted back.

Two seconds later, another piercing sound came, and the spear finally wedged into the wooden wall with Jeska’s assistance.

After a loud wail, bright red blood flowed along the spear’s shaft, from inside the wall to the outside.

"It’s the Witch, it’s the Witch, run!"

"Hmph, trying to escape?"

Jeanne urged her horse forward, transforming the battle flag into a long knife, slicing through the Night Guard’s head, decapitating him with a single stroke.

Her riding seemed instinctive, having only ridden for about ten days since departure, she was already able to charge back and forth in front of the gate.

As for Jia Li, she surprisingly demonstrated excellent riding skills as well, wielding an infantry long-handled Crow Pecking Warhammer as if it were a single-handed weapon.

In less than a minute, the two Saintesses had massacred over ninety percent of the Night Guards at the gate.

At this point, Horn led the four divisions of black-clad soldiers who finally arrived.

The black-clad soldiers poured into the gateway like a black mist, no longer forming ranks, spears thrust forward as they charged in directly.

Seeing the reinforcement of short-haired ones arriving, the remaining Night Guards’ morale broke, fleeing madly, the ground scattered with those in panic, some haphazardly jumping into the river.

When the moon touched the mountaintop, the citizens of the Pope Country were already exhaustedly following behind the carriage, passing in line over the wooden bridge.

The moonlight in the river then took on a tinge of red.

Wounded men wailed as black-clad soldiers stabbed their throats to ensure death, arranging their bodies on the roadside.

A monk, tied up tightly, kneeled on the side with a face full of resentment, waiting for Horn’s arrival.

"What? You’re not convinced?"

"You rebels, once the Holy Knight of the Church arrives, you’ll be crushed to dust instantly!"

"Humorous." Horn laughed aloud, preparing to move forward.

"Wait, who wrote the document, who betrayed my lord? At least let me die knowing."

"I wrote it."

"You? Impossible, the grammar, how could you know the church document format... Was it a Priest?! You, you, face me, traitor!"

"I did not, that’s not me, you’ve got the wrong person." Boned, trying to escape along the edge, immediately attempted to hide behind Hakuto.

"Then what about the seal?" Turning his head, the monk still unwillingly asked Horn.

Horn took out a white radish, waving it in front of his eyes.

Taking a crisp bite of the radish, Horn waved his hand, and several soldiers pushed the bound monk into the river.

Walking slowly forward, standing at the bridgehead, Horn looked towards the east, the faint white of dawn appearing on the horizon.