Chapter 6: Marching Toward the Sacred Isle
“This absolutely won’t do. If you do this, I…” Delin wanted to say that this divine spark was…
But this divine spark was far too important to Delin.
“Lord Delin, don’t worry too much. You know I can become a god on my own. I think you need this divine spark more than I do,” Linley said tactfully. “So let’s leave it at that, Lord Delin. I’ll be heading back now.”
Seeing Linley about to leave, Delin couldn’t help but reach out to stop him.
“Linley, I truly have nothing more precious to offer,” Delin said, looking at Linley with unprecedented seriousness. “But I will remember this favor you’ve done me today. From now on, if you ever need anything, I, Delin, will not hesitate for a moment.”
Linley smiled.
“Then, Lord Delin, let us part ways here.”
…
After returning to Dragonblood Castle, Linley told Delia, Wharton, and the others about the arrangements made by the War God and the High Priest. Wharton, Barker and his four brothers, and Sessler were especially thrilled upon hearing the news.
Whether it was Barker and his four brothers or Sessler, all of them held deep grudges against the Radiant Church.
Wharton had always wanted to go with Linley to seek revenge, but in the past, he lacked the strength. Now that Wharton had reached the Saint level, once he transformed, he became a Saint-level Dragonblood Warrior, with strength not far behind Gates and the others.
Night. A crescent moon hung in the night sky.
Linley got out of bed, draped a robe over himself, and walked onto the balcony, gazing at the boundless night.
“Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I will have the final battle with the Radiant Church,” Linley thought, unable to sleep tonight.
For some reason, scenes from his childhood kept flashing through his mind. Thinking about how he would finally confront the Radiant Church tomorrow, how the goal he had been striving for was about to be achieved, Linley felt a surge of excitement.
“Linley,” Delia came to stand beside him. “Thinking about tomorrow’s attack on the Sacred Isle?”
Delia would set out with Linley tomorrow. Although she hadn’t fully refined the divine spark yet, she was at least a Saint-level wind mage, and even her half-baked “God’s Domain” could sometimes be useful.
“Yes. Tomorrow. I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time,” Linley said, his emotions surging. “It’s a pity that Grandpa Delin can’t see it.”
“If your Grandpa Delin were still here, he would be proud of you,” Delia comforted him. She knew about Delin Kowitz’s story.
“My mother died. My father died. Even Grandpa Delin, who always took care of me and cared for me, died in the end.” Linley looked westward. “It’s all because of the Radiant Church! The church that calls itself radiant, that claims to love the world! They destroyed everything.”
Linley shook his head with a sneer. “And I’m just one of countless families they’ve destroyed. Barker and his four brothers, Rebecca and her sister… all their loved ones are dead! All because of the Radiant Church!”
Rage surged within Linley.
“Linley, don’t think too much. Everything will be settled tomorrow,” Delia said soothingly. She knew very well… what had driven an eighteen-year-old Linley to train bitterly for three years in the desolate Mountain Range of Magical Beasts and then cultivate in seclusion for five years in a small village.
Without enough hatred, how could he have such immense willpower?
“Right. Tomorrow, everything will be settled.” Linley looked up at the night sky.
In a daze… his father, his Grandpa Delin, and the blurry image of his mother from his memories seemed to appear faintly in the night sky, as if watching over him.
*******
On the morning of the 48th day, the sunlight of the rising sun bathed Dragonblood Castle.
“Roar~~” A low growl sounded.
The winding, massive dragon body could be seen faintly within Dragonblood Castle, but the guards were not surprised at all. Many of them knew that three Saint-level dragons lived in Dragonblood Castle, sometimes going out and sometimes returning.
This was the source of the rumors about dragons appearing near Dragonblood Castle.
On the empty training grounds of Dragonblood Castle.
The experts on Linley’s side had long gathered. Those setting out for the Sacred Isle this time included: Linley, Bebe, Delia, Wharton, Barker and his four brothers, Sessler, and the three Saint-level dragons—thirteen in total.
As for Dragonblood Castle, Heiru was left to guard it.
Every one of those setting out was a peak Saint-level expert, each no weaker than Heiting.
“Why aren’t they here yet?” Wharton was getting impatient.
A large group had come to see them off. Hillman, among them, smiled and said, “Wharton, don’t rush. It’s still early. Especially since the Far East Prairie is nearly ten thousand miles away from us. Flying takes a long time.”
“Desri and the others might arrive earlier, but Tullei and his group will probably take a while. Don’t worry, everyone, let’s wait a bit longer,” Linley said. Though he spoke calmly, he couldn’t help but glance toward the distant sky.
He had waited too long for this day.
“Brother, you seem even more impatient than me,” Wharton said with a grin.
Linley could only smile.
“Wow, they’re here!” Bebe, who had been standing on Linley’s shoulder looking into the distance, suddenly exclaimed in surprise.
Soon, Linley and the others spotted a blurry mass of figures flying rapidly from the distant horizon. Among them, a streak of white light was particularly dazzling. Linley recognized it immediately—it was Desri, the fastest of them all!
“Huh?” Linley was surprised.
From the distant sky, more than ten figures were flying toward them. Besides Desri, Belseren, Higginson, Miller, Ford, and Livingston—six people—there were six more. The leader of the other six was clearly Tullei.
“Tullei and his disciples are here too?” Linley found it strange that Tullei, who was thousands of miles away in the Far East, had arrived so quickly. Still, he was overjoyed.
Everyone was here, which meant they could set off even earlier.
Desri and Tullei’s groups landed together inside Dragonblood Castle.
Tullei walked over, a rare smile on his face. “Linley, we’re not late, are we?”
“Not at all. But how did you come with Desri? Did you run into each other on the way? And your residence is in the Far East…” Before Linley could finish, Desri smiled and answered, “Linley, Tullei came to my place yesterday morning with his people, so we set off together this morning.”
Linley understood.
“I was worried about being late and making you two wait too long,” Tullei said with a laugh. “Besides, Desri and I haven’t had a chance to catch up in a long time, so I stayed at his place for the night.”
“Everyone’s here. Why are we still wasting time talking? Let’s go!” Bebe said.
Linley exchanged glances with Desri and Tullei, then they all laughed. Linley nodded and announced loudly, “Alright, let’s set off now.” He looked toward the western horizon, his eyes gleaming. “Target: the Radiant Church’s Sacred Isle!”
On the 1003448th day of the Yulan calendar, led by Linley, Desri, and Tullei, a grand procession of Saint-level experts soared out of Dragonblood Castle, weaving through the clouds, heading straight west.
The guards of Dragonblood Castle watched in awe.
Twenty-five Saint-level experts flying off together—when would ordinary people ever witness such a magnificent sight?
*******
A large ship was sailing toward the Radiant Church’s Sacred Isle.
The tide crashed against the sandy shore as the ship finally docked at the island’s port. At the dock, special executors of the Inquisition, clad in purple robes, watched coldly as the ship approached. A senior executor responsible for escorting the ship stepped down the gangplank first.
“How many this time?” a leading special executor asked coldly.
The senior executor bowed respectfully. “Sir, this batch has over eight hundred.”
“Mm.” The special executor nodded slightly. “Hurry up. Get them out, wash them, and put clean clothes on them.”
“Yes!”
Soon, a stream of filthy slaves was escorted down by the executors.
“Radiant Church? Radiant? Radiant my ass!” a furious shout came from among the slaves, followed by the sharp crack of a whip.
“Go ahead and kill me if you can! I was blind to believe this was a pilgrimage,” the slave shouted angrily. “Where are my wife and daughter? You brought them here too? A pilgrimage? I was really blind—mmph, mmph—”
A flash of a blade, and a large gash appeared in the slave’s mouth. A piece of his tongue fell to the ground.
“What’s going on?” the special executor barked at the low-level executor holding the whip.
“Sir, I don’t know either,” the low-level executor said fearfully. “During the transport, all the troublemakers had been subdued. I didn’t expect this one to hold out until now.”
The slave whose tongue had been cut off glared hatefully at the executors.
As for the other slaves, most had long given up hope, trudging along in their coarse linen clothes.
…
In the vast underground tunnels.
Heiting, dressed in a milky-white robe, walked with a beautiful white-robed female priest behind him. A large number of slaves, already washed and dressed in clean clothes, were being escorted toward the dark end of the tunnel.
“Ugh—” The slave whose tongue had been cut off, now washed and in clean clothes, saw Heiting.
His eyes widened in terror.
In the Sacred Alliance, Heiting had held large masses. This slave had once seen Heiting in person and knew he was the Pope of the Radiant Church.
Enraged, he let out a series of “ugh-ugh” sounds at Heiting.
“Move it!” The escort behind him lashed him hard with a whip, tearing the flesh on his back.
“What foolish people. To offer their lives to the great Chigita, they should feel honored,” the white-robed female priest behind Heiting said coldly.
Heiting smiled faintly.
“How many more souls does Lord Chigita need to fully recover?” Heiting asked the white-robed female priest.
The priest bowed respectfully. “Your Holiness, over the past year, we’ve sent tens of thousands of people here. Lord Chigita has mostly recovered his strength, but according to him, he still needs about ten thousand ordinary souls to fully recover.”
“Ten thousand ordinary souls? That will take a while.” Heiting frowned.
“Of course, ten Saint-level souls would suffice,” the white-robed priest said.
Heiting frowned and glanced at her. “Saint-level souls? Hmph. Remember, just serve Lord Chigita well. Don’t meddle in other matters.”
“Yes,” the white-robed priest replied obediently.
Heiting glanced at the end of the underground tunnel, then at the cleanly dressed slaves being escorted deeper. He sighed inwardly. “Sucking souls, and even demanding the slaves be washed and dressed cleanly? This Chigita is really…”
Though Heiting felt some disgust toward “Chigita,” he was well aware of Chigita’s terrifying power.
Ever since breaking the agreement with Linley over the Chaos Territory and openly clashing with him, Heiting had been meticulously preparing for the day Linley might lead a group of Saint-level experts to attack the Sacred Isle.
“Thankfully, the Radiant Lord has shown favor. At the most critical moment, He allowed Lord Chigita to descend suddenly,” Heiting thought silently.
But Heiting had no idea that Linley and his group of twenty-five experts were already crossing the ocean, speeding toward his Sacred Isle.