Chapter 223: Holy Light “Milk”(1)

Sylvia was stunned, her finger in her mouth, looking like she had never seen the world before. “I’m so jealous. If only I had a giant kitty like that—then I could just ram into anyone I don’t like.”

“Drakewolf was clearing the way the whole time. Why are you only surprised now?”

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Phield felt speechless. With reflexes this slow, no wonder her assassination of Simon had failed so miserably.

If it hadn’t been for him back then, this woman would probably have had a whole litter of kittens by now—and they wouldn’t even share the same father.

“Enough nonsense. The monsters are coming.”

Hearing the chaotic sound of footsteps, Phield immediately ordered everyone to be on guard.

More ghost nuns, as terrifying as zombies, poured in from all directions of the camp, surrounding them. Some cackled madly, others wailed in agony—the scene was like hell itself.

The Corrupted Greatsword Warriors swung their weapons, fearlessly clashing with the ghost nuns.

Although their life level was far superior, the enemy made up for it with sheer numbers. Many monsters broke through the greatswords’ defensive line and charged in.

Phield remained unfazed. Back in the Nightfall Domain, he had fought Divine Chosen every day—not the kind inside a room—gaining plenty of real combat experience.

His sword thrust forward, piercing the abdomen of a lunging monster. Instantly, he felt a tremendous force transmitted through it.

“What strength. Even without mana fluctuations, they’ve clearly reached first-tier lifeforms.”

Taking two steps back, Phield steadied himself and swung his blade sideways, tearing open the ghost nun’s abdomen. A mass of foul-smelling entrails spilled out.

Before he could look closer, a shriek sounded by his ear. He kicked the nun away and swiftly dodged, narrowly evading a sneak attack from another.

With a backhand thrust, he drove his sword into the attacker’s neck.

“That was close. They seem very interested in the The Silver Iris Longsword… no, that’s not it—they’re interested in holy light.”

Phield’s eyes narrowed. “Something’s wrong. The The Silver Iris Longsword usually suppresses creatures like this—why isn’t it working?”

Whether against corrupted beings or flesh monsters, the The Silver Iris Longsword had always performed exceptionally well. But against these ghost nuns, it was ineffective.

More of them rushed forward, baring their teeth. Phield raised his sword and engaged them in fierce combat.

“Human, I’ll help you!”

Sylvia turned into a shadow and suddenly emerged behind a monster, plunging her dagger into its spine before nimbly dodging its dying counterattack.

Landing gracefully like a cat, she smirked proudly. “Pretty impressive, right, Phield?”

“Not bad at all. As expected of a cat.”

Phield gave her a thumbs-up.

Sylvia’s tail nearly shot up to the sky with excitement.

“Second-tier divine skill—Armor-Piercing Frost.”

Ashina’s body surged with violent battle aura, like a peerless blade drawn from its sheath. Every movement radiated overwhelming killing intent.

The third-tier mana lance in her hand now unleashed power no weaker than a divine artifact, darting forward like a striking serpent.

“Slash—”

A charging ghost nun was instantly annihilated, her chest shattered into fragments of ice without the slightest resistance.

Without even sparing it a glance, Ashina moved again. Black streaks flickered like fireflies, crisscrossing the air as sharp whistling sounds tore through the atmosphere.

After a storm of thrusts, the eight monsters that had surrounded her were all slain.

Drakewolf was fighting six on its own, rapidly burning them into ashes.

The battle in the camp was quickly resolved.

“My lord, are you alright?”

Ashina planted her lance into the ground as a cold wind swept past, her clothes fluttering.

“I’m fine.” Phield finished off the last monster, then stroked his chin as he looked at her. “It’s about time Ashina got a new outfit. The maid uniform looks great, but it’s getting a bit monotonous. Would be a waste of her figure otherwise.”

“Forget it. Now’s not the time for that.”

Shaking his head, Phield cleared his thoughts and said seriously, “Let’s head into the monastery.”

Monasteries in this era were grand structures. A three-story stone building—something ordinary people could hardly imagine.

After having the greatsword warriors move the barricades, Ashina pushed open the half-closed monastery doors.

A nauseating stench rushed out, almost making Phield vomit. He quickly covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve.

The long benches in the hall were in complete disarray, bloodstains everywhere. Dark doorways flickered with ghostly shadows. Most eerie of all was the holy cross at the center of the hall, with a mutilated corpse nailed onto it.

“What exactly happened here?”

In the Empire—no, across the entire continent—the Holy Light was considered the greatest and safest existence.

“But none of us here believe in the Holy Light, so I guess no one’s surprised.”

Murmuring to himself, Phield stepped into the monastery.

“Thud!”

A door to a room on the right suddenly knocked from within.

“Help…” A weak voice came from behind it.

“A survivor?”

Sylvia’s eyes lit up. Covering her face with a scarf, she moved to open the door.

“Don’t go over there.”

Ashina and Phield spoke in unison.

“You really think there’d be survivors in a place like this? And look at the latch—it’s clearly been barred from the outside.”

Phield pulled Sylvia back and tapped her on the head, then signaled Ashina with his eyes.

Ashina nodded in understanding, drawing her sword and taking position beside the door.

A greatsword warrior carefully stepped forward, removed the latch, and braced himself against the door.

Bang!

The moment the door opened a crack, a spider-like claw shot out from the gap! Between its joints were strips of flesh like torn muscle, clearly having ripped apart many people.

“Damn monster.”

Phield was furious. Those poor nuns hadn’t done anything to it—yet it had turned them into this.

Ashina, already positioned at the side, struck decisively, severing the arm in a single blow. Dark blood gushed out as a piercing scream erupted from within.

With the arm gone, Ashina kicked the door open and rushed inside, pinning the creature to the ground.

Then she raised her foot—her delicate, pale foot—and brought it down, crushing the ghost nun’s head into pulp.

“Wolfkin really are terrifying…”

Sylvia shrank back, clutching Phield’s arm tightly. Her soft chest pressed against him as she clung to him, unwilling to let go.

“Clear room by room, floor by floor. Stay together, cover each other, and don’t get careless.”

Phield felt his face heat up from the catgirl’s clinginess, but he still issued steady orders, directing everyone to move.

They cleared all three floors of the monastery. Even the rats hiding in holes were dragged out and killed.

“Why haven’t we seen any gold?”

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