"Priest? Where did a priest come from?"
Horn's sneeze interrupted the fisherman's incoherent tale, a trace of confusion appearing on his brow.
His mind was particularly sluggish today.
But before he could make sense of the fisherman's words, a loud shout sounded nearby.
"Take action!"
Before Horn could react, a large hand suddenly appeared beside the chattering fisherman and slapped heavily on his face.
Horn could even see the ripples of flesh and skin rising on the fisherman's cheek.
The fisherman's ears and nose spurted blood from the slap, spinning sideways and crashing headfirst to the ground.
With a crunch, the white spine pierced through the skin.
Horn opened his mouth to shout, only to see a massive fist fill his vision in an instant.
Everything went black.
When he came to, shaking off the dizziness, the dark gray sky was all he could see.
Two men in black clothes carrying hooks twisted his arms, dragging him with his heels carving a V-shaped trail in the grass.
"I'm here on patrol, what are you doing?"
Horn tried to use a breathing technique but just couldn't get into the right state.
He struggled fiercely, kicking up mud as he flailed, yet he couldn't break free from the night guards' grasp.
The two night guards often dealt with bandits and rioters, so naturally, they were highly skilled, easily restraining Horn.
While his body struggled, Horn's mind was preoccupied with analyzing the situation.
Who exactly were these people?
From what he could see, there were two night guards, one tall and one short, gripping his arms, with an armored soldier standing guard nearby.
Had Barnett's situation been exposed?
It couldn't be, I had cut up his face and thrown him into the floodwaters. By my calculations, he should be at the bottom of the Jade Sea now.
Could someone have fished him out?
That would be some bad luck, even if he were found, with the bureaucracy of the Miseria Church, the information relay, decision to dispatch, and actual arrival would take a month.
Considering the church's efficiency, even arriving within a month would be astonishingly swift.
Never mind all that, how did they know I was the leader and conduct such a textbook surgical precision strike?
Did the church have some kind of life lamp or prophetic item?
It's infuriating living in a world with magic!
In Horn's moment of despair, a long arrow pierced the sky to the sound of a bowstring.
The arrow traced a black line, embedding itself into the tall night guard's arm, penetrating through.
"Yah-ee-shibah!"
The night guard let out a cry in an indecipherable dialect, writhing in pain.
Night guards, as light or unarmored infantry, were mortally afraid of weapons like javelins and arrows.
Feeling his right arm loosen, Horn quickly withdrew it and spun around to kick heavily at the short night guard's groin.
His toes registered the sensation of childhood, popping bubble wrap.
The short night guard's facial features crumpled to the center, and a single tear rolled down his wrinkled cheek.
Seeing Horn attempting to escape, the nearby armored soldier drew a longsword and charged.
Behind Horn were the night guards, a torrent on one side, and the rushing armored soldier on the other, while the child soldiers wouldn't arrive for a while.
Cornered, his only option was to move forward.
"Old man, where are you running?"
Horn shouted, lunging toward the monk.
Unfortunately, the determined short guard clutching his groin reached out, pulling desperately at Horn's ankle at the critical moment.
Letting this Secret Faction member tackle and injure the monk could not be allowed!
Horn's ankle was grabbed, causing him to slip and tumble forward.
The armored soldier's longsword swung, even shaving some hairs off the back of Horn's head.
"Capture him alive!" the panicked Iron-tooth Monk commanded loudly.
The armored soldier seized the chance, bending over and choking Horn from behind.
The iron muscles pressed against his neck, forcing Horn to kneel, mucus threatening to leak from the pressure.
"I, I can't breathe..."
"No, don't kill him!"
Seeing Horn's asphyxiated face, the Iron-tooth Monk immediately intervened to prevent his death.
Seeing Horn's exaggerated expression, the armored soldier eased up.
Horn had been waiting for this.
He quickly reached out, fumblingly grabbed the armored soldier's finger, twisted one, and viciously dug into the nail.
"Ah—" Clutching the finger with the flipped nail, the armored soldier hunched over, letting out a miserable wail.
The wailing wasn't even over when Jeska, after missing three arrows, finally hit his knee with precision.
The lower edge of the armored soldier's chainmail only reached down to his buttocks.
Barely seizing a sliver of hope, Horn gasped heavily.
As someone who was often extorted by bullies in middle school, Horn was quite skilled at escaping headlocks.
Seeing that Horn escaped because of a single remark from him, the Iron-tooth Monk was so anxious his gums started bleeding: "Catch him, quickly catch him!"
Due to lack of oxygen, Horn's mind was a bit foggy, and hearing the Iron-tooth Monk's shout, he didn't think further and roared again, lunging at the Iron-tooth Monk.
"Dog under the sun!"
An armored soldier guarding the monk jumped out, blocking Horn's way.
The two tangled together, Jeska sweating profusely, his arrow trembled, hesitating to shoot for rescue.
Clenching his teeth, he called out, summoning seven or eight villagers who hurried over, carrying fishing nets, pitchforks, and flails, running toward the monks.
The Iron-tooth Monk was clearly startled by Horn's roar, hiding behind Jilo.
As a swindler, Jilo, having faced many battles, regardless of his thoughts, just watched coldly on the surface.
"Papa!"
From halfway up the mountain, six children burst into everyone's sight.
They were the Child Soldiers!
Due to their small strength, they carried a long wooden pole with difficulty, working in pairs.
The front end of the pole was embedded with a half-meter long spike, gleaming with a dark red cold light.
Marching with their usual training precision, the long spike thrust towards the two Night Guards.
That short guard stood in an inner-eight posture with a fierce face, taking down his hooked spear, swiping at Horn's calf.
If that hit, a big chunk of flesh would be torn from the calf.
But before he could take action, two sharp spikes were already thrust before his eyes.
"Little ghost! Unclean one!" Helplessly turning to block, the short guard shouted angrily in shame, "Attacking the Holy Father's guards will send you to the Fire Prison!"
He turned around, taking up his hooked spear, and swept towards the children.
According to his past experiences, with the cowardly nature of the Thousand River Valley People, these children should be scared into dropping their weapons and fleeing immediately.
Even if not scared, a few intimidation feints could easily confuse them into stumbling over themselves.
Guards assisting the Manor Lord and the Armed Farmers in quelling rioting Public Register Farmers and Floating People's Public Farmers used this very tactic.
Many times, those seemingly tall Floating People's Public Farmers were pushed into chaos with just a few shouts, even turning on each other.
But unexpectedly, these young boys, though their steps remained disorderly, stayed calm.
The guard's testing strikes and lateral shifts didn't wobble these young boys; on the contrary, several times he found himself thrusting his throat into the spike's point.
Now, it was the short guard himself who stumbled, and in his panic, he failed to notice when the three spikes dancing before him turned into two.
"Oh hey!" Duvalon and Le Mans shouted simultaneously, thrusting the spikes forward.
Immediately, the short guard felt a chill advancing through the cleft of his buttocks.
In the blink of an eye, the spike had pierced through the guard's backside and out from his lower abdomen.
The other tall guard, hit by an arrow, tried to step forward to help but had only taken two steps when a heavy flail swung across.
He narrowly ducked, only to be hit by stones and mud that first smothered his face, then cracked his head open.
A dozen or so young villagers finally arrived.
And on the hillside, more and more villagers with sticks, pitchforks, and stones were heading this way.
Even the Iron-tooth Monk, usually calm, and Jilo, began to break out in cold sweats.
"These are demons!" Horn was pinned to the ground by an armored soldier; the stench of sweat from his armpit rendered Horn unable to open his eyes, "Believers! How have I taught you, the divine grace is vast, believers fight the demons!"
Seeing tens of villagers surrounding them, the Iron-tooth Monk panicked.
If this drags on and the Witch arrives, things will go awry.
"Believers, you've been deceived, he's the demon! Let us go now, and we'll soon bring the army to save you!"
The villagers exchanged glances, seeing that the monk's clothing was that of an Assistant Priest of the Church.
To lay hands on an Assistant Priest of the Church still tested the villagers' limits.
"Believers, don't trust their words; have you forgotten the Holy Father's words? We must purge the demons! Eighty acres of fine land! Brick houses! Land from afar!"
"Don't believe him, he's the demon!"
Seeing the crowd growing larger, the Iron-tooth Monk wiped the sweat from his forehead, glaring at Horn hatefully, and pulled out the Holy Water Grenade.
"Anyone who's been in contact with a witch will have their soul distorted to some extent; before the precious Holy Water Grenade, they have nowhere to hide."
Throwing the Holy Water Grenade beside Horn, the Iron-tooth Monk shouted: "Watch, she's not a Saintess, but a Witch!"
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