Chapter 37: Conversation with the Nun

Phield had noticed long ago that the minimap did not display Divine Chosen who had already been contracted. Even if Ashina did not conceal her aura, Phield could not find her symbol anywhere on the minimap.

Uncontracted Divine Chosen were marked with a location.

But once contracted, they disappeared.

“No wonder my luck has been so good—it turns out a beautiful nun has been praying for me.”

Phield closed his eyes and spoke nonsense casually. From beginning to end, he had never received the slightest help from the Church. Ashina was not a Divine Chosen of Holy Light either, but a Divine Chosen of the Demi-humans’ Bitter Winter. Phield stepped forward at an unhurried pace, wearing a courteous smile. “You specifically sought out my pioneer group—was it solely for preaching?”

“Not only that, respected Baron Phield. We hope to cooperate with you.”

Eliza clasped her hands together. The enormous softness pressed between her arms—her chest—was squeezed and swayed as she moved, simultaneously seductive and sacred.

Phield narrowed his eyes. “Please, explain in detail.”

“Our doctrine has always been redemption and purification. Baron Phield, you are isolated and unsupported in Nightfall Domain, constantly facing the threat of the dead, and your people are lost lambs. However, the Church can establish a cathedral in your territory, as well as a garrison for Church warriors. I believe this is a very reasonable proposal—one that can help share your defensive burden.”

Although Eliza spoke in an extremely persuasive tone, the more Phield listened, the stranger it sounded. If not for his excellent control over his expressions, he would have frowned long ago.

Isn’t this just stationing troops?

Easy to invite, hard to send away.

With such—no, with such a powerful third-tier Divine Chosen stationed in his territory, the land would practically change its surname overnight.

Besides, when Phield first went to Nightfall Domain, the Church hadn’t offered him the slightest bit of support.

Now that he had secured a foothold, they came sniffing around. Shameless.

“Sorry, I must decline,” Phield said calmly. “In truth, we haven’t even stabilized our footing yet. If you wish to offer help, gold coins and mist-dispelling lamps will suffice. My people and I will pray every night and praise the Goddess’s grace.”

“In that case… we can discuss it another time.” Eliza wore a pitiful expression.

Phield ignored her look entirely. “By the way, Sister Eliza, where are you headed? Perhaps we could travel together for a stretch. You could even ride in the carriage.”

He made the suggestion shamelessly. If they agreed, he could lead them straight into piles of corpses, freeload on Divine Chosen combat power, and wipe out all the corpse clusters around Nightfall Domain for free.

As for entering his own camp—absolutely not.

Eliza didn’t need to think to know what Phield was plotting and immediately refused. “There’s no need. Purifying monsters is itself a trial and ascetic practice bestowed by the Goddess. Thank you for your kindness.”

Phield pursed his lips. “What a pity. Say, are you heading to the Northern Border Province specifically to exterminate monsters?”

“That’s part of it, but our primary objective is to recover lost divine artifacts.”

Eliza traced a strange symbol over her chest, sorrow flowing through her eyes. “To resist Orc invasions and save corrupted beings, the Church has repeatedly dispatched armies and Divine Chosen. Many sisters died in the Northern Border Province. As messengers of the Goddess, we must retrieve their divine artifacts, so they do not fall into filth.”

When Divine Chosen die, their souls and divine power remain within their weapons, forming divine artifacts. Over time, however, these artifacts degrade and eventually turn to sand.

“Our route does not pass through Nightfall Domain, so we must decline your offer.”

“How many divine artifacts are there in the Northern Border Province? Does Nightfall Domain have any?”

Phield’s eyes lit up. Noticing Eliza’s worsening expression, he quickly added, “Oh, I mean—perhaps I could help you search. If we find any, we could trade them for more mist-dispelling lamps and purification potions.”

“Thank you for your goodwill, but neither of your requests can be fulfilled. Divine artifacts belong to the Goddess of Holy Light. As for mist-dispelling lamps and purification potions, they are not mass-produced. They require the… ah… anyway, their output is extremely limited.”

Phield refused to give up. “So you do have coordinates for imperial divine artifacts? Does Nightfall Domain have any?”

“I don’t know, Baron Phield. I still hope to establish a cathedral in Nightfall Domain.”

Sensing how difficult Phield was, Eliza persisted. Her gentle hands grasped his arm, and her even gentler chest pressed against him, enveloping him in a sensation like standing amid beautiful nature.

“There will be such a day,” Phield said smoothly. “Once my pioneer group has stabilized and can barely sustain itself, I will certainly inform you.”

He shamelessly continued enjoying the moment, while mercilessly drawing one unattainable feast after another for Eliza—visible, but never to be tasted. Rejecting her too forcefully might provoke retaliation, though the possibility was practically zero.

In recent years, the Church’s influence had been steadily declining. The major empires were doing everything they could to shake off its control. If the Church dared to act against nobles again, it would likely collapse immediately.

Despite talking for a long time, the two sides reached no agreement whatsoever.

“Select fifty strong slaves and issue them spears. We’re entering the gray mist.”

After loudly issuing the order, Phield mounted his warhorse again. From the saddle, he gave Eliza a slight bow. “Farewell, charming Sister.”

“Farewell,” Eliza said, swinging herself lightly onto her horse with her long legs. “May the Goddess protect you.”

Returning to Nightfall Domain was no easy task. With slaves and captives included, the group numbered around three hundred and fifty—meaning an extremely high chance of encountering corpse hordes.

And things unfolded exactly as Nightfall Domain foretold. The moment they entered the Northern Border Province, the bloated supply convoy was immediately subjected to relentless attacks.

Corpses roared as they burst out from ruins, corrupted forests, and even the soil itself, charging forward with twisted ferocity.

“Goddess above! What am I seeing?! Living demons!”

Tate’s expression mirrored that of the slaves—panic-stricken, he looked back instinctively, trying to find the way home, only to see gray mist stretching endlessly to the sky.

A vague realization crept into Tate’s mind:

He had been tricked.

He had heard before that the north was full of monsters and death, but it had always sounded abstract—nothing compared to witnessing it firsthand.

But Tate immediately shut his mouth. Not because he was mentally resilient.

Shing—

The “Black Knights” around Phield drew their cavalry sabers in perfect unison. More terrifying still, the blades were not gleaming steel, but coated in dried reddish-brown blood and yellow-white grease.

Less than two days old.

Drawing on years of managing death-row prisoners, Tate recognized it instantly. Those blades had just finished killing people—and would not mind killing a few more.

“Slaves—no disorder! No running!”

Tate didn’t dare play the hero. While calming the slaves, he cast a worried glance toward the carriage carrying his family.

“No panic! Anyone who runs will be killed!”

The cavalry captain, Kai, swung his longsword and roared in a cold, cutting voice.

What completely baffled Tate was that the cavalry had no intention of attacking the rotting corpses at all. Instead, like shepherds driving a flock, they subtly surrounded the slaves, their posture clearly suggesting that if a single thing went wrong, they would begin slaughtering without hesitation.

“Such savage cavalry… but what about those corpses?”

The question popped into Tate’s mind.

A deep, ghostly blue light flashed.

A massive black wolf leapt out, without the slightest pause. It darted through the zombie horde at incredible speed, casually swinging its claws, easily crushing some undead underfoot while shredding others to pieces.

Everyone stared in stunned disbelief, even forgetting their fear.

Was there a giant wolf in the convoy? They hadn’t seen anything like it before.

Crackling like arcs of lightning, a stream of blue flame burst from the wolf’s mouth, then expanded geometrically in an instant. The Drakewolf swept back and forth, and the sharp crackling of burning fire echoed in everyone’s ears like exploding firecrackers. The onrushing corpse horde was completely wiped out.

“What is going on?”

Tate felt the sheer flood of information overwhelm his mind.

“It’s my contracted Divine Chosen—Ashina.”

Phield patted the utterly stunned Tate, gestured toward Ashina beside him, who was dressed like a maid, and then said calmly, “Go and get the slaves back in order. We need to move quickly.”

“But… uh… I…”

Tate didn’t know what to say for the moment, his words tumbling out in complete confusion.

…

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