Chapter 132: Laughter

  "Right, you go heal that female knight first. It's no fun if she's dead." Hilton turned to the young man, Yabin, and patted his shoulder with an air of magnanimity. He was quite impressed with the young man's white magic. "You can be second in line."

  But Yabin didn't move. He stared at the flickering campfire, his originally handsome and delicate face wearing a wooden, vacant expression.

  "Think about it. Doing a Temple Knight of the Church, and such a beautiful one at that—this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Who on this continent would get such a chance? She must still be a virgin." Hilton stuck out his tongue and licked his lips, his voice trembling slightly from excessive excitement and desire. "Think of that bitch's haughty attitude, the way she talked, looking down on us? When we do her later, we can do her while asking her what the fuck..."

  The young man suddenly stood up, his face still expressionless, and walked away directly.

  "Inexperienced, just a kid." Hilton shook his head and chuckled. Although his looks were a far cry from Sylka's, the ferocity and licentiousness illuminated by the red campfire were enough to send chills down most people's spines.

  The Druid, who had been silent all along, just pressed his injured hand and quietly watched the fire. He suddenly spoke, "Forget it. If you're going to kill her, just kill her. Don't do these disgusting things."

  "Disgusting?" Hilton was surprised, as if hearing the word for the first time. "Fuck, for guys like us, is this anything? You haven't seen anything more disgusting than this." He looked at Sylka and smiled. "Right?"

  Sylka didn't speak, only revealing a smile that seemed to show complete understanding, just as ferocious, like a tiger's bloodthirsty affirmation of a wolf.

  The Druid's expression was wooden. His body was somewhat portly, and his appearance was as honest as that of a peasant who had tilled the land for generations. In every respect, he, having returned to human form, looked like the most commonplace grocery store owner. He stared at the fire and said in a voice as flat as if he were reading a ledger, "It's better for a person to have a conscience."

  "Conscience?" Hilton's eyes widened abruptly. He was stunned. Then he burst out laughing, so hard he was gasping for breath. The wound on his face split open again, and blood flowed continuously. But he kept laughing even as he winced in pain; one could tell he was trying to hold back, but he couldn't. His laughter echoed through the trees, traveling far.

  The masked woman, Jessica, and Sylka also looked at the Druid with strange expressions. One was mocking and amused; the other was disgusted, disdainful, and annoyed, as if looking at a rat that had just crawled out of a cesspit, its belly full.

  "Fuck. Fuck." Hilton finally managed to stop his loud laughter. The stitches on the wound on his face had broken quite a bit, and blood streamed down his face again. "That's the funniest damn joke I've ever heard in my life. For you not to be a priest preaching in the Church but to be a Druid is a fucking waste of talent."

  The Druid said nothing. He rose dejectedly and walked in the direction Yabin had gone.

  "Fuck, what a hypocrite. Made me suffer for it." Hilton spat contemptuously at the Druid's retreating back, then turned to the man, looking impatient. "Never mind these two idiots. You go first..."

  But the man had no intention of going; he didn't even move. He gave Hilton a cold glance. The chill in his eyes was even stronger than before. He slowly uttered two words: "No."

  "Why not? Fuck." Hilton was quite agitated, almost jumping up. If it weren't for the man's unfathomable skill and combat power during the fight, he would have rushed over to take the woman by force. Left with no choice, he looked at Sylka. "What's with this guy..."

  Sylka smiled. Though the smile could still be used to intimidate people, the calm and reason within it were undeniable. He had been this way ever since escaping the cellar. He smiled at the man and said with great magnanimity, "I believe you have your reasons. Let's hear them."

  "Yeah, let's hear them." Hilton also looked at the man, and suddenly seemed to understand. "Fuck, you can't be... you can't have fallen for this bitch, can you? I'm telling you, she's a Temple Knight. Just have some fun with her and then kill her."

  "I won't just have some fun. I'll gather a group of men to have her for a week, until she dies," the man said coldly.

  "Then why..." Hilton stared and asked.

  "I'm keeping her because I have many questions to ask her. If I do her now, it's no different from killing her. I won't get any answers out of her." The man smiled at Hilton. It was a standard smile that didn't reach his eyes, revealing a mouthful of neat white teeth, but it was more terrifying than a beast's full of sharp fangs, making one's hair stand on end. "Don't worry, just wait. I'll let you join, and you can be first. And finally, I'll send her corpse to Celeste for that old bastard Magnus. I guarantee it'll be an eye-opener for him. Hahahaha..."

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  Hilton couldn't help but shudder. The fire of desire, or any other fire for that matter, in his heart was extinguished by this icy laughter, not even a spark remaining. Instead, he stammered, "That's a bit much... You're joking, right."

  To secretly rape and murder a Temple Knight was already the most heinous crime Hilton could imagine. If they really did what this man said, it wouldn't just be a crime; it would be insanity. It would be like slapping the Pope in the face, openly declaring war against the entire Church of Light.

  "I never joke," the man said coldly, looking at Hilton.

  If anyone else had said this, or if this man had said it before, Hilton would have thought the person was either crazy or joking. But having witnessed the man's skill, especially with that bizarre knife, from which the scent of blood that still lingered in the air seemed to be detectable, Hilton almost intuitively sensed that behind the man's ordinary-looking face lay something unimaginable.

  "Why do you want to do this?" Hilton asked cautiously.

  "That old man Magnus, and Eschol... those old immortals, I've been planning to deal with them for a long time..." The man paused, as if thinking of something he wouldn't say further.

  The masked woman, Jessica, suddenly asked, "Your knife... is it enchanted with Darkness and Necromancy?"

  "I didn't expect someone to have such good eyesight," the man said lightly. His gaze fell on her, scraping up and down like a knife.

  "What? Darkness and... Necromancy..." Hilton's voice grew smaller and smaller, and then he shut his mouth.

  "Don't look at me like that. I can't take it." Jessica smiled, her eyes flashing like a cat's. Her laugh was cloyingly sweet, and her slender, firm waist twisted lethally like a snake's, as if she were flirting with a lover in bed. "It was the little nun from the temple who recognized it. For her to be wary of it, to avoid letting your weapon touch her shining armor in the middle of a fight, and to call it 'evil and filthy'... everyone knows what that means."

  "The less you know about some things, the longer you'll live," the man said lightly. He lay down and half-closed his eyes.

  Hilton kept studying the man. His expression was a mix of surprise, admiration, and a fearful reverence.

  Jessica's large eyes, visible outside her mask, also looked the man up and down, then she revealed an ambiguous smile, nimbly leaped onto a tree, and lay down on a branch.

  Only Sylka glanced at the man briefly, then turned and walked away. But after he turned, a smile appeared on his face. This smile was sincere, happy, and that ferocious face, which could almost rival a Behemoth's, seemed less terrifying because of this genuine joy.

  Of course, this smile made no sound. And no one saw it.

  Meanwhile, on the other side of the trees.

  Druid Anderson, at the last point where he could hear those people, faintly heard the man say he would spare the female knight for now. This made him feel a little better. He often felt that animals were much easier to get along with than people. This wasn't just because of his faith, but more because of his own inner feelings.

  Ahead, he could vaguely hear someone's voice. It should be the young man, Yabin. Anderson walked a little closer and heard that it was a confession.

  "Almighty Lord... we confess and lament our many sins and evils, which we have committed through thoughts, words, and deeds from time to time, enough to warrant condemnation and wrath from the Lord... Please forgive us... remit our debts, as we remit the debts of those who owe us; lead us not into temptation, evil, and darkness. Glory be to the Lord, from this day and forever, have mercy on us, O Lord..." Yabin was kneeling on the ground, his eyes closed, hand on his forehead, repeatedly reciting the words of confession and prayer in the standard posture of a believer. The moonlight filtering through the trees cast his rather delicate face in a bloodless pallor.

  Although Anderson was quite surprised, he didn't panic. This young man could use rather good white magic, so he must have some connection to the Church. But since he had used white magic to help this group fight the Temple Knight at a critical moment, it at least showed he wasn't a Church spy. More importantly, since he could hear Yabin's voice, Yabin could also sense his presence. To act so naturally in front of others meant he had a clear conscience.

  Although Anderson disliked the Church due to factional differences, the words Yabin was reciting now gave him a strange feeling. The vocabulary, and the subtle emotions in the reciter's voice, all resonated with him.

  The prayer and confession continued for a long time without stopping. Anderson couldn't help but ask, "So you're a believer?"

  Yabin stopped his prayer and confession, stood up, and was silent for a moment before answering, "Not really a believer." Then he asked, "What did they do to that female knight? I don't think I heard any noise."

  "Don't worry, she's safe for now. That man said there's no hurry. But the future is hard to say, maybe even worse." Anderson sighed, then suddenly looked at Yabin and said, "Aren't you afraid I'll tell the others you're a believer? To be confessing and praying here at a time like this. You know, myself included, everyone here is an enemy of the Church."

  Yabin sighed and said, "I told you, I'm not a believer. It's just a habit I developed from being raised by my grandfather. And I didn't come here specifically to confess... I just didn't want to hear that woman's screams, so I came here to find some words to say to myself."

  "If you don't believe in the religion, who are you confessing to? Who are you praying to?" Anderson found this young man quite interesting.

  "To myself, I guess." Yabin's expression dimmed. "I played a part in that woman's fate. To be honest, I really regret it now..."

  "But you had to do it then. I could tell you really needed that thousand gold coins, and besides joining this group, there really was no good way to get that much money." Anderson sighed again, with a bitter smile. "Actually, I'm not so different from you."

  "I remember you asked Sylka for three magic items stored in Tulalion, right?"

  "Yes, those are sacred artifacts our Druids lost many years ago. Now, besides me and a few companions, our sect is almost extinct. I must retrieve those items before I die. What about you? Why do you need so much money?"

  "Because I need to take my sister everywhere to seek medical treatment," Yabin replied lightly. His face held a depth and steadiness, even a touch of world-weariness, that didn't match his age.

  Anderson's eyes lit up. "This I might be able to help with. We Druids' expertise in healing, especially with herbal medicine, is by no means inferior to the Church's white magic. What's your sister's illness?"

  Yabin was silent for a moment, then answered in a low voice, "She's insane. From excessive fright."

  Anderson said "oh" in disappointment. This was far beyond the scope of herbal remedies. Then he asked, "In that case, you should have sought help from the Church. If it were the white magic of a Cardinal-level mage, it might be effective, and there are also people in the Church who study mind magic. I heard that Cardinal Eschol of Erathia is extremely accomplished in mind magic."

  "If I could go to them, would I have joined this group?" Yabin gave a bitter smile and looked at Anderson. "You're talking to me as if you're encouraging me to leave you all and surrender to the enemy."

  The honest Druid was taken aback, only then realizing that their relationship was actually very delicate; they should even be wary of each other. But he wasn't good at handling such scheming, so he smiled sheepishly, "I was just saying it casually. Besides, in your current state, after helping us capture that Temple Knight, you can't exactly go running to the Church now, can you?"

  "Yeah, I have no other choice..." Yabin said with a bitter smile, when suddenly his body and voice both froze.

  "What's wrong?" Anderson asked. He could see the expression on Yabin's face change, but the moonlight wasn't bright enough to see what it was.

  Yabin turned around, and the moonlight fell on his face. It was a smile. The gentle, bright smile made his already handsome face look even more approachable. He smiled at the Druid and said, "It's nothing. Let's go back and get some rest."

  On this night, everyone here had laughed.