Chapter 81 Bloody
"You mean, he directly severed ties with the Brody family in public?" Knight Commander Yialos looked up in surprise and stared at the spy in front of him.
"I saw it with my own eyes," the man said, bowing respectfully. "I believe the Brody family will report this to the Royal Court Council soon."
"Is he crazy? At this critical moment when the Inquisition is watching him?" Yialos frowned. "Doesn't he know how easy it would be for someone to cause trouble for him after he leaves his noble status?"
The other man lowered his eyes and didn't respond. The other man didn't want him to answer either. He stroked the hilt of his sword and pondered for a moment before saying, "Has the Vatican sent any news?"
"Despite our best efforts to calm the situation, the loss of the Chosen One still caused a huge shock among the Vatican's top brass. The voices of the Sacrificial Cult have risen again, causing great trouble for His Holiness the Pope." Before Yialos could continue to inquire, the man skillfully reported briefly, "The Temple of Poseidon has become more low-key recently. It seems that they have successfully found the third Chosen One, and the location is roughly confirmed to be near the Kasa Strait. The One Who Will Die is as treacherous as ever, and we haven't been able to gather much news worthy of attention. As for the Storm God Utosca..."
The other party hesitated for a moment and said, "As of now, there is no news."
Yialos narrowed his eyes: "No news at all?"
"Indeed, all the temples we could find were abandoned, and the worshippers were mostly rural fools or bards, practically ordinary people. We haven't heard of any miracles associated with that deity in recent years," the spy explained. "As for the Storm God's chosen one... we also don't know much about him. He's from Karak, and he first appeared in the chaotic Port of Morris, which greatly increased the difficulty of tracking him. After he left White Tower University, our followers didn't discover anything along the way..."
The spy hesitated. Although his informants said everything was normal, he felt something was wrong when he looked at his subordinates who came back to report, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
Yialos waved his hand, signaling the other party to withdraw. He silently gazed at the large amount of information spread out on the table. All of it contained divine history documents related to the Storm God Utosca, even if it was just a few words.
"The Sacrifice Sect..." He muttered to himself, "Could it be that those daring lunatics really succeeded?"
…
The atmosphere on the way back was much more depressing. The God's Blessed Ones continued to disappear at any time and anywhere, but the professor didn't care. He just bought several recent newspapers from large and small newspapers, and the more he read, the more he frowned.
"How long will it take to get to Baita University?" he suddenly asked.
The old driver, puffing on his pipe, spoke in a thick rural accent, "Master, we'll have to run for about a day and a night. If you two get tired, after we cross this wasteland, there's a town not far away where we can stop and rest."
Suddenly, from far behind, the sound of rapid, complex horse hooves approached. The dull, muffled sound grew louder and louder, as if it were pounding heavily on a person's heart. The old driver, startled, turned his head and saw a pure black carriage, pulled by two strong black horses, galloping towards them. The old driver immediately urged his horses to the side to make way, muttering to himself, "These masters are so impatient! They want to hurry, but they are trying to cut us off from the road—"
"They're not in a hurry."
A slender white hand took the reins from his hand. The old driver was so startled that he almost fell off the cart. He stared with wide eyes at the blond young man who suddenly appeared in the front seat of the cart - he didn't even know when the other party appeared.
"Hold on tight."
The other man took over the driver's seat, flicked the reins, and the whip cracked in the air. The docile brown horse pulling the cart neighed and broke into a gallop. The old driver slumped over the seat, clinging tightly to the side of the cart frame, feeling as if his old bones were about to be shaken apart. Then he suddenly realized that the carriage seemed to be getting lighter and lighter, as if it was half-suspended in the air, making his clumsy old friend as light and swift as a peregrine falcon.
"There are three identical carriages chasing us, flanking us from behind."
The black-haired young man leaned half of his body out of the car, and the wind rushed into his throat, making his voice fragmented.
Several flaming arrows streaked through the air, hurtling towards them, but all of them sank into the mud not far from the wheels.
"Oh, my God of Light! We've run into robbers!" The old coachman couldn't help but scream in horror.
Nova didn't respond. He clutched the windowsill, feeling even more nauseous from the shaking. They couldn't possibly be robbers, he managed to maintain his thoughts. Robbers wouldn't use flaming arrows to avoid burning the goods and treasures they were trying to plunder, and this group was clearly even more reckless.
The black-haired young man squinted his eyes, trying to discern more information—and then was knocked back down by a gust of wind.
"It's very dangerous, professor." The voice of the God-favored One sounded clearly beside his ears.
The next second, an arrow slipped past his eyes and pierced the door frame of the carriage door at an angle.
Nova: “…”
He didn't know whether the arrow that broke through the siege was deliberately left to him to satisfy his curiosity, or simply to scare him - strictly speaking, he and his companions had some minor, unresolved disputes. Although the professor had no idea whether the guy was angry or not, after all, the Savior had already shown him how bad someone's temper could be when they lost control.
The black-haired young man expressionlessly put out the fire that hadn't yet completely ignited. The smell of burning rushed into his nostrils. He was choked by the thick smoke and covered his nose, squinting his eyes. "Burlap, charcoal, sulfur and... some kind of grease?"
He could only roughly infer that it was some kind of animal fat based on the unique smell of burnt protein.
The carriage suddenly stopped and Nova almost fell under the seat.
He looked out the window - a fourth black carriage appeared, blocking the road ahead, and it seemed to have been planned for a long time.
"Finally."
Nova looked at his companion as he opened the carriage door. The God-Favoured One's beautiful face still wore a smile, but a hint of murderous intent was emanating from him.
"Someone has been following you since you arrived at Ironthorn Territory," the other person explained calmly, extending his hand toward him, motioning him to get out of the car. "At first, I thought they were spies from the royal court, but after investigating, I found something amiss—besides the spies, there were also several other people. They reeked of blood, far too strongly to be ordinary believers focused on spiritual practice."
Azuka grasped the professor's wrist, and paused slightly at the abnormal coldness.
Nova immediately reacted: "So you deceived the royal court's spies along the way and prevented them from reporting the news, trying to lure these people out completely?"
"Hmm," the God-Favoured One replied calmly, watching the four carriages forming a circle, gradually encircling them. The carriages stopped, and more than a dozen people wearing blood-red robes and pale masks jumped out.
Those masks were finely carved and of the same style. They looked like a male face with a slightly upturned mouth and eyes closed peacefully, as if he was sleeping with a smile on his face. However, Nova inexplicably felt that it should be the face of a deceased person.
The old driver huddled aside, shivering, and began to pray to the God of Light.
"...Child of Life," Azuka whispered.
The black-haired young man suddenly turned his head and stared at his companion beside him: "Are those cultists who practice human sacrifice in the legend?"
The God's Favored One's eyes were cold. Nova rarely saw him express his disgust so openly. He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Is your aversion to the smell of blood related to this group of people?"
The other party did not give a direct answer, but simply said in his native language: "I once completely destroyed this sect."
To be precise, he slaughtered all the "Sons of Life" by himself, and his methods were so cruel and brutal that even his two companions did not dare to step forward to persuade him.
Nova blinked. Okay, it did seem quite relevant. He was considerate enough not to delve into it further.
The Sons of Life over there had already drawn their weapons. Their weapons were equally bizarre, mostly consisting of iron hooks and spikes, like enlarged versions of torture instruments.
But they didn't attack the professor and the others. Instead, they muttered curses and suddenly turned around, stabbing the black horses' necks and bellies. Suddenly, the horses' screams and wails filled the air, and blood spurted out, staining the group's red robes even brighter. The various viscera that tumbled out of the horses' stomachs, still steaming, filled everyone's nostrils with the strong smell of blood.
The old driver was completely frightened and fainted.
As the Sons of Life chanted in unison, the blood that had formed a river on the ground suddenly began to boil and bubble. Some horses, still not quite dead, lay twitching slightly, their internal organs writhing hideously like living creatures. Suddenly, they exploded into twisted monstrosities, and thousands of blood-coagulated arrows lashed out at the crowd.
The God-favored One calmly raised a hand, aiming it at the foul tide of blood, flesh, and bone. A breeze blew from behind him, ruffling his golden hair. The seemingly gentle current gathered in his hand, forming a subtle vortex. In a single breath, it devoured all the filth, purifying even the air.
If it weren't for the horse's corpse lying on the ground, it would be as if nothing had happened.
The red-robed men obviously had not anticipated this scene, and there was a slight commotion - but the eyes of the leading red-robed man hidden behind the mask flashed with astonishment, but it was immediately replaced by ecstasy.
He suddenly grabbed his companion and pierced his eyeball with the sharp spike in his hand. The man didn't even struggle. Apart from the initial scream, he went down silently and docilely.
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