Chapter 149: The Youth Who Understands Growth (Part 2)

  The fall from the tree left him dazed and confused. Ethan, dragged by Hilton and Jessica by his feet as they fled, felt his head bump against every protrusion on the ground, causing excruciating pain.

  Though he had seen Necromancers use Paralysis Spell and had even used a scroll of Paralysis Spell himself, this was the first time he personally experienced the spell's power. The white magic fluctuation remained gentle and pure, but it combined with the life force flowing within him in an extremely strange way, turning the originally torrent-like vitality into a thick paste, congealed glue.

  Only now did he understand why even a massive Behemoth, with its enormous life force, would stiffen for several seconds under that scroll. At such close range, with a Cardinal casting the spell personally, and with him being completely stunned and making no attempt to dodge or defend, even a Behemoth would have stiffened for several seconds—creatures like Wyverns and Scale Ox would likely be affected even longer. And a human, relying only on their own life force and vitality, would probably take half a day to break through this constraint.

  But in the current situation, let alone half a day, even half a minute could be fatal. Ethan immediately focused his mind, entering a meditative state. The life force condensed by the white magic within him was no longer a single mass; he could feel how the subtle magical fluctuations interwove with the channels of his flesh and blood.

  Only in his lower abdomen did a trace of vitality and battle aura still flow. As if catching an earthworm in a rice paddy, Ethan with great difficulty controlled this imperceptible trace of battle aura, manipulating it to start from his lower abdomen, following the perceived magical channels and traces, flowing upstream and radiating throughout his body. Progress was slow at first, but as more constraints were released and more battle aura and vitality could be controlled, progress multiplied.

  Finally, all magical constraints were broken. Ethan flipped over, breaking free from their grasp, and stood up.

  "Boss, you're awake. Run quickly, we're no match for those guys." Hilton looked at Ethan with joy on his face, but his panic didn't diminish at all, his feet still moving swiftly. The Druid, who had been first to flee, had already transformed into a werewolf, carrying Old Bill on his shoulder as he sprinted ahead.

  Though it felt like quite some time in Ethan's consciousness, in reality, only a few breaths had passed since he was paralyzed and fell from the tree. They hadn't run far yet. The Temple Knight Commander who had just begun pursuit froze slightly, watching the figure leap up from the ground, letting out a slightly surprised "oh."

  The five fleeing people originally had speeds faster than galloping horses, and now, fleeing for their lives, they were using all their strength. But the three figures emitting white light behind them were continuously closing the distance. The Temple Knights' postures clearly looked like they were merely taking large strides, yet they were faster than the desperate running of those ahead.

  In this chase, it didn't take long for them to burst into the central area of the elven city.

  Everywhere were tall tree buildings, some reaching twenty to thirty meters high, others as thick as wooden stakes magnified a thousand times, naturally scattered in orderly arrangement. Though this place was a hundred times more magnificent and prosperous than the elven settlement in Whispering Woods, it likewise lacked any trace of artificial craftsmanship. The only exception was the stone platform enclosed by three giant trees in the center, where a massive teleportation magic circle added some artificial traces to this naturally formed place.

  "No need to run anymore. We can't escape anyway." Ethan suddenly stopped his steps not far from the teleportation magic circle.

  The others also stopped. Hilton, foaming at the mouth, collapsed to the ground. Even if Ethan hadn't spoken, he probably couldn't have lasted much longer. His speed was the slowest here, having used all his strength just to barely keep up with the others. This sprint had already been his limit.

  Old Bill, on the other hand, had been trying to persuade the werewolf carrying him not to follow Ethan. But perhaps the wind was too loud during their run, and he couldn't be heard. The Druid still ran with his temporary companions, and now that Ethan stopped, he stopped too.

  The three Temple Knights were already less than twenty meters behind them. Even if they continued fleeing, they couldn't get far. Seeing their target suddenly stop, they also halted abruptly. The originally speeding white figures stopped as if on command, but this effortless transition between motion and stillness showed the difference in their skill level.

  Lancelot was in the center, with the other two Temple Knights on either side. One held a greatsword in both hands—though not as exaggerated as Sylka's, the silver light waves flowing over it and its sharp edge indicated this weapon's lethality was far above that large iron block. The other held a black long spear, emitting a glow like black diamond that seemed almost tangible. The three unhurriedly watched the five targets before them. Their calm and composed demeanor and posture were like three lions watching prey under their paws.

  Elves continuously appeared around them. On the ground and in the high tree houses, many elves emerged to watch these foreign intruders. Probably out of intuition, they all kept a considerable distance.

  "To break through His Eminence Adela's spell in such a short time, it seems your strength exceeds even my imagination." Lancelot watched Ethan quietly. The light in his brown eyes wasn't dazzling or bright, but Ethan felt the silent, formless penetrating power within. Just from this gaze, he felt as if he had been stripped naked and thrown before a wise beast.

  Though calm and composed, though the difference in strength was so obvious, though they exuded the confidence of predators toward prey from their very bones, the three Temple Knights, including Lancelot, showed no slackening. They remained in a state ready to react at any moment.

  In contrast, the five opposite them were in various states. Besides Ethan and Jessica, who appeared relatively calm, the others were all relaxed and full of openings. Hilton collapsing on the ground without losing consciousness was already quite fortunate. Old Bill still rode on the Druid's back, seemingly reluctant to dismount, while the Druid uneasily shifted his feet.

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  The werewolf swayed left and right for a moment, then suddenly staggered toward the three Temple Knights. Ethan and the others were stunned, and before they could react, the werewolf Druid had already walked before Lancelot.

  "I surrender." The speaker wasn't Anderson, but Old Bill on his back. The old man's hands pressed on the werewolf's head. The werewolf's eyes were full of daze and struggle. As Old Bill spoke, he slowly tilted his rat-like head, a rat-like face intertwined with fawning and feigned piety. "This werewolf is a Druid, the dirtiest and most evil heretic. I have already controlled him with a soul shackle. Now I wish to convert to the glory of the God of Light. I only pray that the Lord can forgive my past..."

  As his head tilted further, Old Bill's voice grew stranger. Then suddenly his voice ceased, because that increasingly tilted rat head tilted off his neck and fell. And he himself seemed not to understand what was happening, his mouth still opening and closing, his face showing surprise at the sudden change in his line of sight.

  "Heretics are not dirty." Lancelot looked down at the head rolling its eyes on the ground and said lightly. "Only the selfish and self-serving soul is dirty."

  Only now did the body still on the werewolf's back spray a short fountain of blood. This rat-like, hunched, and wretched body didn't have much force, and it fell down. The werewolf Druid suddenly awakened. Seeing the Temple Knight right before him, he turned pale with fright and hastily leaped back to dodge.

  The three Temple Knights didn't move. At least in the eyes of the surrounding elves and Hilton on the ground, from the moment they stopped standing there, they seemed not to have moved at all. The old man's head on the beastman's back had fallen off for no reason. They all let out a cry of surprise.

  Ethan's eye twitched. Only he had seen clearly that Lancelot hadn't moved at all. It was the Temple Knight beside him holding the greatsword who had turned his body. The greatsword with flowing silver light instantly transformed into a silver line that swept across the old man's neck. Even Old Bill himself hadn't noticed—his head and neck had long been separated. But the greatsword was very thin, and this strike was too fast, too clean.

  "You... don't accept surrender?" Ethan frowned. The expressions on Hilton and the Druid's faces also changed with this question.

  "No, knights never wantonly slaughter the weak or those unwilling to fight. Even heretics may have a chance at redemption. But selfishly betraying companions—that is the manifestation of a dirty soul, far more telling than any magic or belief." Lancelot looked at Ethan and said lightly. "His surrender was rational and correct. But he absolutely should not have sold out his friends. When fleeing earlier, his friend didn't abandon him. Now he wants to use his companion as a condition for surrender, as the price for survival. Such a selfish and self-serving soul cannot be cleansed even by the Lord's glory."

  "Hmm... you just said 'Heretics are not dirty'..." Ethan glanced toward the magic circle, then turned back to look at the three Temple Knights before him. "That doesn't seem to fit the identity of a Temple Knight, at least that female Temple Knight isn't like that."

  "The Lord says tolerance is the greatest light. Give anyone not confirmed evil a chance at redemption. Righteousness is a force that naturally comes from within, not a dogma hanging overhead manipulating people's behavior. Knight Talise is still young, too pure, and doesn't understand this distinction." Lancelot spoke lightly. His appearance wasn't particularly majestic, lacking the kind of extraordinary charisma that could captivate at first sight. The great words like "righteousness" and "light" that had already begun to sound cliché coming from his mouth were different from when others said them. There was none of that sublime, worshipful tone, nor any deliberately raised pitch. Instead, he used an extremely plain voice and demeanor, as casually as an ordinary person speaking of their eating habits. But it was precisely this unadorned voice that was far more moving than any declaration or sermon, because it contained threads of vitality, belief emanating from personality and soul. He looked at Ethan and continued, "Did you stop meaning to surrender?"

  Ethan thought for a moment, nodded, and said, "Probably. I know I don't really have much chance of winning. But before I surrender, I want to ask a few questions. Is that okay?"

  "Yes, go ahead and ask."

  "You... how did you become you..." Ethan organized his thoughts and vocabulary. The questions in his mind couldn't be asked directly. If he directly said that there were actually several Necromancers secretly manipulating within the church, and that he had revealed his whereabouts to lure them here rather than the Temple Knights, such a question would never be believed or accepted by this Paladin. "Why did so many of you come? If it's just to eliminate a thief gang, it seems you didn't need to come personally, right?"

  "I don't know about that. I only received orders from His Holiness the Pope to bring back the person calling himself 'Sandro'. Actually, I didn't expect it to be you, the notorious wanted man. But the moment I saw you, I already guessed that the 'Sandro' Knight Talise spoke of was you."

  "Pope... His Holiness the Pope..." Ethan's eyebrows furrowed deeper, thinking so hard his eyes narrowed to slits.

  The only person in the church who couldn't possibly be involved with Necromancers was undoubtedly the Pope and this Paladin. But the name "Sandro," originally prepared for the Necromancers, didn't attract them but brought these two instead. According to his plan, since the Necromancers were determined to get him, they would never want him, who knew many things, to fall into the church's hands. They would surely find a way to interfere with the church's involvement and come personally. But the result was completely the opposite. Could it be that all the Necromancers were absent? Had they somehow failed to hear the hint meant only for them?

  But the Pope would never dispatch nearly half of Celeste's experts just for a group of thieves. There was only one explanation: Sandro wasn't just known to the Necromancers. At least the Pope knew him too.

  "That person you mentioned... Knight Talise... was the message she brought back known only to you and the Pope?" Ethan asked again.

  Lancelot also frowned slightly. He was puzzled by the questions this person asked and his strange expression. But after hesitating, he still answered, "No, probably many people know. I heard Lord Eschol also strongly recommended that I come to deal with you."

  "Eschol, it's him..." Ethan frowned. Since the Necromancers knew it was him, why didn't they come? Weren't they afraid he would be killed during the church's capture? Then their clue to the Leaves of the World Tree would be lost. Weren't they afraid he would reveal secrets about the Necromancer Guild after being captured? Ethan felt as if millions of flies and bees were buzzing and colliding in his mind, but he couldn't find a clear path out.

  "Slap!" Ethan suddenly delivered a resounding slap to his own face. A handprint immediately appeared.

  Everyone was stunned. Hilton and the others suspected he had gone mad facing three unbeatable Temple Knights.

  "I was wrong." Ethan sighed heavily.

  Lancelot smiled slightly. This wasn't a mocking smile but one of understanding. He said, "The confusion and chaos in your eyes have disappeared. Have you figured out what you were thinking?"

  "I haven't figured it out. But I know I was wrong." Ethan nodded dejectedly. "I was never a schemer. Without a mind for conspiracy, yet I tried to be clever and play mind games with others. This failure was self-inflicted."

  "Good. Rare." Lancelot smiled again and nodded. This smile carried a hint of approval. "Being able to recognize one's own mistakes and admit one's weaknesses is an opportunity for growth."

  Seeing the Paladin's expression, which didn't seem like one facing an enemy, Ethan felt strange and asked, "Since you know I'm that notorious wanted man, why do you seem... not to hate me so deeply?"

  "A wanted man is a wanted man. But an honest person deserves praise, especially honesty with oneself. Besides..." Lancelot paused, saying in a rather strange tone, "Regarding your crimes... I'm not very clear about them..."

  Ethan's heart stirred. The two major crimes of assassinating Bishop Ronis and Duke Mrak were as well-known on the continent as his wanted status. His Excellency the Paladin couldn't possibly "not know," yet he said "not very clear," which meant...

  Just as Ethan was stunned, Lancelot's face turned serious. He said, "Alright, you've asked your questions. But the person you're waiting for still hasn't appeared. What will it be? Will you surrender and come with us now, or do we have to act?"

  Ethan sighed. He understood that his chosen position to stop, his gaze earlier, and the topic of delaying time—none of these intentions could escape the notice of a master like the Temple Knight. The other party's unhurried attitude merely stemmed from supreme confidence. He took one last look at the motionless teleportation magic circle, turned to look at Lancelot, took a deep breath, and said word by word: "I'm sorry, I won't surrender."

  At this moment, thousands of miles away from the Tulalion Forest, in the Barbarian Highlands, a brief and cruel battle was nearing its end.

  A few days ago, without any warning or declaration of war, a force of four thousand men attacked Oufu from the Erathia border. This force wasn't Erathia's regular army but was composed almost entirely of Erathia's church forces. Though an irregular army, its members and combat capability were in no way inferior to regular troops. It included no small number of mages and priests, and even ten griffins served as scouts and to deal with Wyverns. This force roamed near Oufu, completely ignoring Oufu's ultimatums, posing as if ready to attack at any moment. But once the orc main forces made any movement, they would immediately retreat three steps.

  But today's ambush they didn't retreat in time—or rather, they didn't detect it—because those launching the ambush were few in number and acted covertly. It was only just over a dozen orcs and two humans.