The granite steps of the Eternal Winter King's Sacred Temple were stained crimson with blood, while the air carried a pungent, sweetly foul odor that was almost choking.
The ground was strewn with numerous corpses—those punished by God, religious adherents, allies, and even the Mo 'jin Shamin. Their deaths varied, most bearing scorched marks, with shattered limbs and internal organs scattered everywhere. Fauren knew these were victims of the lethal snow powder's impact and incineration.
With every step up the stairs, he felt a sticky sensation underfoot. The Church, the Inquisition Army, and the believers' combat will could be described as insane. Facing drug-enhanced slaves, they stood their ground, using their flesh as shields to tightly entangle the enemy, all to buy their comrades a chance to deliver a fatal strike. Though the pills filled them with strength and made them painless, their hearts, necks, and heads remained vulnerable. Even Her Majesty the Queen had no extra armor to arm these cheap slaves.
Without the snow powder, the outcome of the battle would have been uncertain.
But we triumphed... Faren's heart burned with triumph. We had won! The Queen's banner now waves atop the city walls, and even the Church's most fortified stronghold succumbed to this assault. Thus, the Black Sail Fleet broke free from the deadly siege at Graycastle's corner, sparing them the endless attrition of a prolonged war against Tefiko.
The temple hall lay in utter chaos, shattered glass strewn across the floor and blood flowing everywhere. Yet he paid no heed to the debris, walking straight to the woman standing at the hall's center, her hair flying in the wind, and kneeling before her. "Your Majesty, the four city gates have all fallen into the Black Sail's hands. The Eternal Winter King is now yours." "Thank you for your efforts," Jiasia said, extending his hand toward him.
Fairen gently took the Queen's hand, gave her a symbolic kiss on the back of her fingers, then rose to stand beside her.
"Strange etiquette," Kebala suddenly remarked from the side. "You didn't even touch her hand—why this posture?" The abrupt question made him frown, but as the leader of the Sandstone Clan, he couldn't publicly rebuke her rudeness. "This is Noble protocol," he said coldly. "It signifies courtesy and respect. Only when you touch someone does it become impolite. It's perfectly normal for you, a Sandborn, to find it incomprehensible." "Really?" She raised an eyebrow, pointing to her neck. "We're allies in battle, just finished fighting. You're putting this on me now? The mainlanders' courtesy and respect are truly baffling." Kebala's neck was encircled by an iron band, bulging in the middle. At first glance, it looked like a decoration, but Fairen knew it contained a God's Punishment Stone. Without the special key, the band could only be removed by Giasia. As a Witch, she naturally required caution, but she had indeed fought valiantly. Without her command spell, those slaves wielding Fiery Snow Powder might never have dared to charge the believers' tightly fortified defenses. He opened his mouth, unsure how to respond.
"Enough with the petty quarrels," Jiasia cut in. "Remember why we're here—can't you even bear a stone, when survival itself is a vast expanse?" "I was just making a remark," Kabala shrugged. "May your promise be kept." "Of course," the Queen smiled faintly.
"What should Black Sail do next?" Fairen asked.
"We'll discuss the next steps later. First, let's enjoy a show," Jia Xiya said, clapping his hands and directing his guards, "Bring her up." Soon, two armored guards escorted a woman with her hands bound into the temple.
She was in her thirties, with an unremarkable appearance. Her disheveled brown hair cascaded down her cheeks, and she wore a golden Church robe. Such exquisitely crafted garments, typically reserved for Hermes' Bishop, now bore several tears and stains of blood.
"Is this... Bishop?" "Exactly," Queen Bishui said with a smirk. "I've verified with the local Noble—she's one of the Church's three principal Bishops, Lady Heather." Her gaze turned to the man. "So, I'm right?" "..." Heather remained silent, though Fairen could detect a sharp sneer and utter contempt in her eyes.
Clearly sensing this, Jiasia let out a soft laugh. "I knew you wouldn't surrender. In mercy, I brought you to the Temple to welcome you back to God's realm. You may beg for divine salvation or ask for my forgiveness. I'll slowly sever your fingers, limbs, and features, letting you experience the agony of the Port of Azure waters' people." "What next?" the Bishop blurted out. "Be crushed into dust by the Church's army? Or drift forever adrift at sea?" "You needn' t worry about that," Jiasia signaled her guards. "The Church's forces are now attacking Wolfheart City. Hermes is like an impregnable fortress—far more important than my fate. I may not reach the New Holy City, but I can reduce the Old Holy City beneath the Plateau to ruins. You've heard of the infernal river at Graycastle's southernmost tip—flammable and impossible to extinguish. I've brought an entire ship of it." The guards drew their daggers, approached the Bishop pinned to the ground, and cleanly severed two of her fingers.
Heather clenched her teeth and did not cry out in pain.
The Queen ascended the grand staircase of the hall, seated on the majestic throne with her right hand resting on her chin, her face beaming with delight.
...again three fingers, now the other's left hand was bare flesh, beads of sweat glistening on Heather's forehead.
"Is this really necessary?" Kebala shook her head. "Such pure torture is pointless unless it's to intimidate enemies or extract intelligence." "Purely pointless?" Giasia laughed. "You should ask her that. Do you know how the witches captured by the Church will be treated? I doubt you'd care." "Hahaha..." At this moment, Heather, who had lost all ten fingers, suddenly burst into laughter. "You don't understand the Church's greatness, nor do you grasp the significance of the Holy City's actions. You're always ignorant, oblivious to the impending destruction! Hermes will show you what true power means—those who oppose the Church face nothing but ruin!" "Is that so..." Giasia crossed her legs with a smile. "Then I'll wait and see." The Great Bishop died without uttering a single plea for mercy. To Fairen's surprise, she didn't even call upon God's name, hoping for divine salvation. When Heather, weakened by blood loss, nearly lost consciousness, her expression was eerily cold—not like someone enduring torture, but like someone watching a farce unrelated to her. Through those eyes, Fairen seemed to glimpse her own destined future.
This sensation left him feeling inexplicably oppressed, almost unable to breathe.
"Cut off her head and hang it at the church gate," Garcia commanded after confirming Bishop's death. She then turned to Faren. "Next, we'll discuss the next move." "Yes, Your Majesty," he suppressed his growing unease. "Do you intend to attack Hermes?" "Exactly, but not with the full force." She unfurled a leather map she carried. "The Black Sail Fleet will leave only a small crew and some Eastern Slaves behind, steering westward along the river toward the Old Holy City. We'll march south directly, crossing the Eternal Winter border to Wolfheart." "Wolf... heart?" Faren froze in shock.
"I've struck a deal with Wolf King Wolfe," Garcia declared bluntly. "If I help him thwart the Church's assault, he'll assist me in securing the entire realm of Eternal Winter. This way, unless the Church withdraws their troops, the explosive snow powder and netherworld waters aboard the ship will reduce the Old Holy City to ashes—unlike the New Holy City, which lacks walls and can't withstand slave raids without reinforcements." "If they retreat, Wolfheart City will gain a reprieve. With our borders aligned, we can unite against the Church!" "Exactly," Queen Bishui nodded. "And we'll establish our foothold in Eternal Winter."