Azure Scepter

Page 5

Among the ambush of undead, the four ghouls posed the greatest threat, but they were killed by the paladin in a single encounter. He even deliberately saved one Holy Slash to deal with the ancient tomb ghouls downstairs.

Trier did not feel tired. This short and intense fighting rhythm was very similar to the ambush of the novice priest, but compared to the exhaustion that almost drained his marrow in the past, he didn't even have much of a change in his breathing rhythm at this moment.

"After all, I've gained nearly five points of physique in one go, doubling my physique. A violent conflict of about a second is still quite easy for me," Trier thought to himself. He walked to the window and waved to Fythia in the distance once more.

Fatiya stared blankly at this spot, frozen in place as if she had been struck by a human's spell, even forgetting to nock the arrow she had just drawn.

"Next, we need to find an opportunity to take down the Corpse Demons; they should have already engaged us."

Trier turned around, picked up his backpack, and strode towards the stairs.

Suddenly, a sharp whooshing sound overhead shattered his plans.

The paladin instinctively looked up and was immediately horrified.

—A ghoul with black ribbons tied around its eyes has somehow climbed onto the ceiling!

"How can it be?!"

The terrifying undead suddenly reached out, its vicious claws striking like lightning towards Trier's eyeballs.

Trier suppressed his shock and immediately stepped back, raising his sword to parry above his head. A burst of hot sparks flew from the blade. The paladin squinted and, relying on his experience, deflected the grabbing strike above his head.

Amidst the piercing clang of metal striking metal, the ghoul landed silently on the ground, then suddenly sprang up, its hunched figure unleashing a fierce whip kick.

Trier was taken aback and was caught off guard, his left arm was kicked, his chainmail clanging loudly, and the invisible force, like muffled thunder, rushed up his shoulder and straight to Trier's forehead.

"boom!"

A wave of dizziness and nausea exploded in his frontal lobe, and warm blood flowed from his nostrils. Everything before his eyes went blurry, and in a flash, Trier's hair stood on end as two claws gleamed with a chilling black light struck almost the instant the kick was completed!

The ghouls attacked at an extremely high frequency and at the perfect time, their rapid-fire attacks tearing apart the paladins' counter-attack rhythm like a storm.

There is no way to avoid it!

"Trade for a double kill," Trier calmly made the decision.

Instead of retreating, he charged forward, crashing headlong into the ghoul. He lowered his body, using his nearly numb left arm to shield his head, while the tip of his sword on his right side silently fell to the ground. Then, using his forward momentum, he thrust out a powerful stab.

"Ding!"

"Pfft!"

The ghoul's claws grazed Trill's left arm, but were deflected to the side amidst the sparks. The next moment, a large hole suddenly exploded in the ghoul's abdomen, and the tip of a sword, wreathed in milky white light, emerged from its body.

The Holy Slash!

Amid the wailing of the undead, a fierce glint flashed in Trier's eyes, who had been passively taking hits. He grabbed the ghoul's right elbow with his left hand and pulled hard, while kicking the ghoul's shin hard with his right foot. With a crack, the ghoul's left leg bent outward at a full ninety degrees, and then it uncontrollably rolled to the side on the ground.

The paladin raised his longsword, took a quick aim, and then, like an executioner, plunged the blade deep into the ghoul's eye socket.

"Ow!"

Twist the blade and shred the brain tissue.

The ghoul convulsed violently, and countless golden orbs of light splashed out like punctured water balloons, merging into Trier's body.

[XP+2000!]

"Using sparks to conceal his tracks and get close, then using the Shocking Fist to seize the initiative and follow up with the Two Elements Returning Wind, this ghoul is actually a martial monk." The transmigrator's heart pounded wildly. As the adrenaline subsided, a churning pain and lingering fear surged into his heart like a tide. "I almost capsized in the gutter, thank goodness I was wearing chainmail."

"I'm definitely in critical condition now."

"Where did this ghoul come from?"

The paladin cautiously raised his head and discovered that there was a hole in the ceiling above the stairs, leading to a dark room. The dark opening was constantly emitting the pungent smell of various chemical agents.

Just as he was about to go upstairs to find out what was going on, a gasp suddenly came from downstairs.

Trier took out his rifle and rushed downstairs to provide support.

When Trier arrived on the first floor, he was met with a scene of utter devastation.

The undead had breached the shrine's gate defenses. At the forefront of the horde, the Ancient Tomb Corpse Demon raised its long-handled axe high. The last rays of the setting sun shone behind it, scattering a faint crimson halo that made it appear as if it had emerged from the abyss as a Baloro Demon.

Beneath the ancient tomb's corpse demon's feet lay a crimson carpet. A withered young man lay in a pool of blood, howling in agony. His shield, along with his chainmail, had been shattered by the corpse demon's axe. Beside the young man, a soldier in a mortar was struggling to fend off the dense, seaweed-like hands of the zombies reaching out with his spear.

Standing before the two soldiers was the Knight of Harlan, who held a greatsword and faced the towering ancient tomb monster. His figure was extremely small compared to the monster, and the bandages binding his eyes were soaked with blood.

At that moment, the knight assumed a standard, sweeping sword-dragging stance, while the ghoul also prepared for a slash; both were targeting each other. The next instant, the axe blade slammed down, and the knight's greatsword swept out!

"Crench!"

With a sickening clang, the heavy ghoul was swung around like a baseball hit to a home run, its massive body and axe hurtling into the horde of corpses like cannonballs. The knight's sword, however, moved without hesitation. After sweeping away the ghoul, the greatsword slashed through the horde of zombies like a scythe cutting wheat, instantly turning the crowded shrine entrance into a bloody grinder.

Harlan swung his sword and smashed an armored zombie to the ground, followed by a forward thrust that pierced through another, then a backhand slash that swept across the battlefield. Wherever his sword went, it was unstoppable. The dense undead line was instantly thrown into chaos, becoming a jagged mess.

The knight, blind in one eye, slaughtered the zombies like a bulldozer, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake as if a hurricane had struck.

"Harlan's combat power is that high? This warrior's level is at least level 10 or higher."

He had been wondering why Harlan, Feudia, and Sister Noy were allowed to occupy the best rooms on the second floor of the hotel, but now his doubts had completely vanished.

—The professionals in this group are all at a high level.

With various motives in mind, the paladins also joined in the work of clearing out the remaining zombies, and the rate at which the zombie horde was reduced suddenly accelerated.

As Futia launched her attack from outside the shrine, the zombies' last line of defense completely collapsed. Soon, the large ambush force was wiped out by the four remaining survivors who still had fighting power.

"Clap."

The last walker fell to the ground, a dusty deerskin boot landing on a pool of crimson blood.

“It seems we’ve figured out who the lurking cultists are.” Fythia raised her left hand, glancing meaningfully at Harlan. “Our religious fanatics paid a heavy price for this answer: nine lives, an eye, and an ear—what do you say, Trier?”

“I have nothing to say, but you can say whatever you want.” Trier frowned as he listened. He had always despised the riddle-maker’s inefficient behavior. “There’s no need to use meaningless sarcasm to probe indirectly.”

Chapter 7 Identity

There's no need to use meaningless, sarcastic remarks to probe indirectly.

The elf's face stiffened. Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she said nothing.

"What Futia wants to ask you is: are you satisfied with this price, and are you willing to forgive our mistakes?" The blind knight broke the silence, calmly translating the obscure statement, "That's just how she is, she likes to say annoying and harsh things to cover up her good intentions."

“I didn’t!” Futia retorted instinctively, but then seemed to realize that her words were inappropriate, so she added, “What I mean is, the first half of the religious fanatic’s statement is very good.”

"Stop arguing, everyone!" At this moment, the soldier with the mortar interrupted the elf, "Poor Hurt is dying, we have to take him to Miss Noi right away, or he's doomed!"

Upon hearing this, Trier looked at the seriously wounded young soldier.

The ghoul's heavy cleavage nearly cleaved him in two, warm blood gushing incessantly from the cut in his carotid artery. Even worse, the chainmail rings, shattered by the violence, were embedded deep into his torso like shotgun pellets. His wails grew weaker, his hoarse voice slowly fading into silent sobs.

“He won’t make it to the hospital.” After observing for a moment, Trier came to the conclusion in his mind. “He needs to be stopped and given initial treatment here to have any chance of survival.”

His gaze swept over the bewildered crowd around him, and he continued to ponder: "None of them should have the ability to perform this kind of surgery. Only I can save Hult."

Thanks to his long-term medical education and extensive practical experience as a senior necromancer, Trill has an excellent understanding of the physical structure of various organisms, and his rich theoretical and practical knowledge has enabled him to accumulate remarkable surgical skills.

"The original body couldn't possibly possess surgical skills, so if I were to perform surgery, it would further sever my connection to the original body's image, and I might even be directly suspected of possession—combat abilities can be explained by becoming a paladin, but medicine is impossible." The paladin's thoughts raced, and he calmly and rationally weighed the risks.

To save or not to save, that is the question.

After a moment, he made his decision.

"Anyway, I'll be leaving here by tomorrow at the latest. Let them have their doubts; saving lives is more important. Their opinions are meaningless to me."

Having made up his mind, the paladin walked to the seriously injured young man's side: "No, he won't make it that far. We must stop the bleeding and give him initial treatment here."

The paladin took out a dagger and tweezers from his bag, quickly disinfected them, and began to remove the broken iron ring embedded between the wounded man's ribs.

"By the Radiance above, stop! Trier, what are you doing?!" Harlan's voice lost its composure. "Medicine requires years of accumulated knowledge! You are committing murder!"

“I know what I’m doing. If it’s convenient, please give me the bandages from your backpack.”

"But when you were taking care of the patient for Noe two days ago, you couldn't even find the femoral artery in the patient's thigh!" The knight anxiously walked behind Trier, but dared not touch him. He was very worried that Trier might accidentally chop the injured person up like a zombie.

Although Trill was extremely efficient at purifying the undead, the knight was more worried that he would bring that efficiency into his healing.

Doing nothing is bad, but doing things blindly and haphazardly is even worse.

"No, it hurts!" The young man named Hurt, reborn from the pain, burst forth with the vitality of life. He struggled in terror, and his shrill screams sent chills down the knight's spine.

"Hold his thighs down," Trier said to the sergeant. "Yes, hold him down like that, hold him in place, I'm going to remove the iron rings."

"Is there anything I can do?" Futia asked.

Trier skillfully made a preliminary incision near the first iron ring with his dagger. "There's a dark room near the stairs on the second floor. It might be dangerous. Please investigate."

“Okay.” The elf nodded.

A few minutes later.

[You have acquired the skill: Battlefield First Aid, which is classified under the Paladin class.]

[Field First Aid Successful, Field First Aid +1]

[Perfect healing. You have gained partial information on the background specialty "First Aid Specialist"]

"This is called soft tissue metal foreign body removal technique. The key is to operate gently, because excessive force may cause the foreign body to be squeezed deeper," Trier said to the sergeant. "Look, this third iron ring is right next to the liver, so before removing it, be sure to cut enough space for observation so that the iron ring can be fully exposed."

“I don’t understand.” The sergeant shook his head blankly. “But I think your medical skills are even better than Miss Noy’s.”

At this point, Harlan had completely shut up. He stood silently behind Trier, quietly learning the medical techniques.

“Give me the bandage,” Trier said, turning his head after picking out the last iron ring.

Harlan obediently handed over the bandage.

As the bandage was applied, a phantom cobalt blue translucent number, +5, appeared above the soldier.

Trier glanced at the mirror that had been placed to the side, but the cobalt blue numbers were not reflected in it.

"Thank you, sir..." the gaunt young soldier said sincerely, "But why does my skin look like an old man's?"

“The curse of the corpse demon, you’ve been corrupted by negative energy.” Trier put away the mirror. “You can find a priest to take a look; a restoration spell can definitely restore you to your original state.”

“Religious fanatic, look at this!” Suddenly, Fythia’s voice came from the second floor, “This is the sacred abode of your radiant faith!”

Before the knight could respond, Futia continued, "A slaughterhouse, that's exactly what it is here! They're dissecting living people here! My God, there are even live specimens... Is he even alive?"

“I see,” Trier thought. “The ghoul monk was hidden in the shrine, and it must have been transformed by the shrine’s priests. The ghoul transformation ritual must have been taking place in that secret chamber.”

Suddenly, the paladin remembered something—the fat priest who had been giving speeches in the inn seemed to be a priest of the Church of Radiant Light, and apparently also the head of this shrine.

With that thought in mind, he said, "That fat pastor at the hotel..."

Before he could finish speaking, the knight's expression turned serious: "Pastor Byron is in charge of the shrine! We have to get back right away!"

The next moment, the elf jumped down from the dark room on the second floor. Although she was wearing chainmail, she landed on the ground as lightly as a feather.

Trier noticed a blood-stained black ribbon around her waist; he remembered it being the one that the ghoul monk had once tied around his eyes.

Fythia looked up and met Trier's gaze. She glanced in the direction Trier was looking and then said, "Those are my sister's belongings. She was a monk. She went to the Kingdom of Orko a few years ago and we haven't heard from her since."

“I’m sorry,” Trier said dryly, looking directly into the elf’s misty eyes.

Futia lowered her eyelids, took out the ribbon, and gently stroked the bloodstains on it with her long, slender, white fingers. "At least you've freed her. Alright, let's not waste any more time and go back quickly."

The paladin had planned to leave Beaver Town immediately after being exempted from the Blood Plague, but due to a surge of compassion, he is now critically injured and has to postpone his journey. He urgently needs a safe place to rest, so he has decided to return to the inn for the time being.

The streets of Beaver Town were deathly silent. The apocalyptic scene of chaos that had unfolded two hours earlier was gone. The remains of the undead and thugs were scattered haphazardly throughout the town, which the soldiers in the burlap sack claimed was the result of their voluntary cleanup when they arrived.

No one went to put out the fire in the burning building.

“The situation is getting worse every day. They’re all dead, all of them are dead—Locke, Eriel, Ford…they were all excellent soldiers.” The sergeant carried the young soldier on his back, his face showing exhaustion in the firelight. “I really don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Maybe all the sleeping corpses in the cemetery will wake up and attack us.”

"It might be midnight, not tomorrow," the elf told a lame joke, but no one laughed.

“At least we know how the plague spreads and we’ve eliminated the main force of the cultists.” Harlan, despite being blind in one eye, was quite optimistic. “The number of the undead will stop growing. We just need to clean up the town step by step. And our messenger should be arriving at my father’s place soon, and reinforcements will be here soon.”

"Forty undead can be called a main force?" Trier walked at the back of the group, thinking to himself, "Given the population size of Beaver Town, the number of undead that still exists is already ten times that. If the Silent Whisper Society has made preparations for a large-scale resurrection of the undead, then the number of undead could even grow to a thousand within a few days."

"Right now, the entire Southern Duchy is probably engulfed in flames, and Earl Harlan certainly doesn't have enough manpower to support this place."

"The longer I delay, the more undead will revive, and the harder it will be to leave. By tomorrow morning at the latest, I need to recover to a level of severe injury and leave this place immediately. I can't wait any longer."

"The battle just now gave me a whopping 5200 experience points, enough to level up my Paladin to level 3 in one go, and I even had 200 XP left over—the experience points from fighting above my level are truly outrageous."

"Don't level up the paladin yet. Save this experience for when you become a mage."

Just as Trier was assessing his resources and planning for the future, Fythia, who was scouting ahead at the front of the group, suddenly slowed down and walked to the traveler's side. She coughed lightly, breaking his reverie: "Trier, are you really still Trier?"

Chapter 8 Trading

"Your combat skills are simply outrageous. Yesterday you were just a beginner who had only received basic military training, and you almost died when a ghoul ambushed you; but today, in the short time it took me to reload my arrows, you took down two dangerous ghouls as easily as picking up a cup to drink water."