Little Coal Ball floated in the sky, lowering its round, chubby head to gaze at the desolate plain below.
Those souls were still standing there, looking up at the slime in the sky, their expressions as blank as a group of people who had just woken from a dream.
Little Coal Ball strained with effort, its body swelling a full size larger, like a balloon being inflated, then it exhaled a breath that transformed into a hurricane, sweeping the souls up into the sky.
These souls soared upward, becoming transparent as they passed through the chalice's mouth, like wisps of smoke drifting down to settle upon the peacefully lying corpses in the cemetery.
Lya was stunned for a second, then snapped to attention, quickly crouching down. Warm light surged from her palms, flowing across the ground, soon enveloping the entire cemetery.
Under the glow's embrace, the "corpses" lying in the cemetery opened their eyes one by one.
The first to awaken was a middle-aged man.
His chest bore a wound split open by a sharp weapon, but under Lya's healing, it quickly closed, leaving only a dark stain of dried blood.
He blinked blankly, staring at the gray, overcast sky above for a long time, as if trying to recognize something. Then he slowly sat up, his movements as sluggish as a bear just roused from a long hibernation.
The girl was about seven or eight years old, her golden hair a messy tangle, two trails of tears streaking her face, her nose red, her lips trembling as she let out a faint call.
"Daddy!"
The man's lips moved, a hoarse sound escaping his throat.
"Elmira?"
The girl threw herself forward, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Her body was small, like a frightened little bird, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder and beginning to sob loudly.
The man dazedly raised a hand, hesitated for a moment, then placed it on the girl's back, holding his daughter a little tighter.
A middle-aged woman wearing an apron hugged her newly awakened husband, crying and scolding at the same time, "You idiot, you scared me to death, do you know you scared me to death..."
The husband just grinned foolishly, using the back of his hand to wipe the tears from his wife's face, only for more to fall, until both their faces were a mess.
Similar scenes played out one after another in the cemetery. "Corpses" opened their eyes one by one, gazing blankly at this world, then being swept away by those long-lost, now regained embraces.
This cemetery, which had witnessed countless deaths, in this moment, also witnessed rebirth.
After completing all this, Little Coal Ball's body swayed slightly, then began to split.
It wriggled a few times in mid-air, splitting off a small coal ball, which then leaped out of the chalice's mouth and fell into Nilly's arms.
Nilly instinctively reached out and caught it, letting out a sigh of relief.
"You scared me to death, you little thing."
Little Coal Ball made a vague, gurgling sound, as if responding, or perhaps acting coquettish. Its gel body wriggled slightly, nuzzling deeper into Nilly's embrace, like a small animal seeking warmth.
"You just ate the sun, you know that?" she asked.
"Gurgle." Big Coal Ball let out a satisfied sound, as if saying, "That sun tasted pretty good."
Chen Yu glanced at Big Coal Ball, then his attention completely shifted to the holy chalice.
Ever since Little Coal Ball swallowed the Black Sun, the nature of the chalice had changed.
The twisted patterns on the chalice's surface were slowly changing shape, the lines curving and intertwining, gradually converging together, slowly forming the plump, round outline of a slime.
The surrounding church's white light of faith began to slowly flow into the chalice. The glow of the slime pattern on the chalice's surface also grew a bit brighter, pulsing like a breath—bright, dim, bright, dim.
This thing's nature had indeed changed.
It had become a vessel containing slime faith.
Which meant... the Great Slime Religion now had a sacred relic?
When this thought popped into Chen Yu's mind, even he found it somewhat absurd.
Just a few months ago, this sect was merely vampires amusing themselves.
But now they had a sanctuary, bishops, followers, and now even a sacred relic.
Even if it was stolen from the enemy, it was still a decent start.
As for what this thing was useful for, he'd leave that to Casimir to explore. That eccentric vampire loved tinkering with such things the most.
After confirming Little Coal Ball was fine, Nilly patted her chest and assured Chen Yu that no New Sun follower could escape her notice, then left the cemetery with Sekashi and Semiaya to patrol.
Of course, Tam was thus forced to follow its most mischievous student to search for enemies, though it seemed to be enjoying itself.
Sekashi followed behind Nilly, an eager expression on her face. "Nilly, do you think those New Sun followers might still be hiding in the city, like in basements?"
Nilly thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Don't know. That's why we patrol. Gotta check every corner."
Semiaya walked at the very back, scanning the surrounding streets expressionlessly.
She held a dagger in her hand, her steps light, almost silent, like a cat walking across a rooftop.
"If there are, kill them," Semiaya answered simply.
The three chatted as their figures disappeared into the streets beyond the cemetery.
Chen Yu had originally planned to go with Yano to check on the situation at Blackrock Bastion, to prevent enemies from ambushing the fortress. But then he heard the sound of hoofbeats coming from the street.
Galvin rode over slowly on horseback. In his hand, he held a severed head, the forehead of the deceased still bearing the jawless skull holy emblem of the Xirik Church.
"Your Majesty." Galvin performed a knight's salute to Chen Yu with meticulous precision, his movements quite standard and perfect.
He seemed to realize his knightly etiquette was even more perfect than Arthur's, and couldn't help but slightly lift his chin.
"These followers were gathered in the ruins of the Rubble Plains, secretly watching. We found them."
"I interrogated them for a while, but didn't get much. These followers keep their mouths tight, and they seem protected by some kind of magic. The moment it touches on the church's core secrets, they become mentally confused."
Chen Yu glanced at the head, then looked up at Galvin, asking curiously, "What about the others?"
Galvin shook his head.
"Most of the supporting followers escaped, leaving only a few unlucky ones. But to be honest, Your Majesty, if those followers try to infiltrate again, it will be very difficult for us to completely stop them."
"The border of the Dark Realm is too long. These followers can completely hide in the shadows and slip in quietly without being detected."
Chen Yu also felt a headache coming on.
What Galvin said was true. Shadow abilities were indeed useful, but it also meant your enemies could use the same methods against you.
Those New Sun followers were proficient in shadow magic. They could emerge from any dark corner, scurrying through the city's underground passages and back alleys like rats.
No one could catch them except Stone Descendant assassins.
All Chen Yu could do was station more Stone Descendants in the city, add them to patrols.
And strengthen border control.
Everyone entering the Dark Realm must undergo inspection.
Whether merchant caravans, adventurers, travelers—no matter who—must register their identity and purpose. Anyone suspicious gets detained immediately.
But fortunately, the orc army was eyeing the White Horse Royal Capital nearby. At least after this failure, those followers probably wouldn't have the mind to care about this place anymore.
In comparison, the Merchant Alliance legion suffered a major defeat, three Extraordinary professionals were captured, and the legion lost nearly half its forces. Once Samuel returned to the Merchant Alliance, there would be quite a show to watch.
The snow had been falling all night.
Nolan stood at the edge of the temporary camp, glancing at the vast white world in the distance. He exhaled a breath that immediately condensed into a white mist, only to be torn apart by the biting gale.
He pulled a compass from his coat.
The brass disc was frozen solid like a lump of ice. He forced the lid open with brute strength. The needle wobbled beneath the glass cover, spun twice, then stopped, pointing in a completely wrong direction.
Then, as if drawn by something, the compass slowly spun another half turn, then another half turn, as if mocking a lost traveler.
"Damn it."
He cursed under his breath, threw the compass to the ground, and crushed it under his boot.
Their luck was absolutely wretched. They had just escaped the Dark Realm when they ran into a sudden blizzard.
The damn Winter Year had still come after all.
This blizzard had already lasted a long time, so long they could no longer recognize the direction back to the Merchant Alliance, lost in the endless snow.
Behind him, the remnants of the troops huddled in temporarily erected tents, or simply squeezed together under a few pine trees, back to back, using each other's remaining body heat to fight the bitter cold.
Samuel walked over from the other end of the camp. The hem of his robe dragged in the snow, already half soaked, the edges crusted with tiny icicles.
"Lord Nolan." His voice was hoarse. "I'm afraid this blizzard will continue for several more days."
Nolan didn't turn around, just kept staring at the vast white wilderness ahead.
"What about our location?"
Samuel fell silent for a moment, then shook his head. "Since yesterday, I've been unable to determine direction. This snow has buried all landmarks, including the constellations in the sky."
"We need to leave here, get to where the blizzard is less fierce, then we might have a chance to find our way back."
"How long can the soldiers hold out?" Nolan asked.
Samuel glanced back at the camp.
"Those with light injuries can last another two days. The seriously wounded..."
He didn't finish the sentence, but Nolan understood.
The seriously wounded wouldn't last the night.
Nolan closed his eyes, took a deep breath. The icy air flooded his lungs, like a dull knife churning in his chest.
When he opened his eyes, he had made a decision.
"Have the soldiers set up camp here. We'll ride back to the fortress to seek reinforcements."
They were far enough from the Dark Realm now; those magical creatures couldn't catch up for the time being. Leaving the soldiers here wasn't abandonment, but the best choice after weighing the pros and cons.
As long as they could get away from the fiercest part of the blizzard, determine the correct direction, he and Samuel might be able to return before dawn, bringing hope to these soldiers.
Samuel nodded in agreement with his plan, pulling a map from his coat.
The parchment was frozen stiff, the edges somewhat brittle, making faint crackling sounds as it was unfolded.
Nolan looked over, using the snow's reflected light to see the lines. The map marked the terrain around Gold Lionheart Fortress—mountains, rivers, forests, roads, and some small notes written in charcoal, jotted down by Samuel during the march.
"We should be about here right now." Samuel's finger landed on an unmarked spot on the map, a small circle drawn beside it.
"This pine forest extends north about five miles, then there's a stretch of hilly terrain. Cross the hills, and you reach the Grayrock Plains. That's the leeward side of the mountains; perhaps the wind won't be as strong there."
"But the problem is, the blizzard will bury all road markers. If we take the wrong direction..."
Nolan said nothing, just waved at him. "Let's go. Things can't get any worse than they are now."
Samuel put away the map.
"Alright, let's go."
They spent about a quarter of an hour arranging matters at the camp.
Nolan mounted his horse.
It was a gray warhorse, its mane crusted with icicles, white mist puffing from its nostrils. It pawed the ground restlessly, its hooves digging a shallow pit in the snow.
Samuel mounted another, scrawny sorrel horse, its ribs protruding like a wild dog that hadn't eaten enough in winter.
The two turned their horses' heads and rode into the snowy wind, heading in what they guessed was north.
After riding about half a mile, Nolan suddenly pulled on the reins.
He glanced back at the camp. The tents had already become blurred gray spots in the wind and snow; the soldiers' figures were no longer visible.
"Lord Nolan?" Samuel's voice came from behind.
Nolan withdrew his gaze, facing the vast white wilderness ahead once more.
"Let's go."
Hooves crunched into the accumulated snow, making a squeaking sound.
The wind blew straight at them, carrying fine ice crystals that stung their faces like sandpaper. Nolan lowered his head, burying his face in the collar of his cloak, leaving only his eyes to watch the path ahead.
In truth, it could hardly be called a path.
The snow had buried all traces; beneath the hooves was only a vast white wilderness.
Occasionally, a clump of withered grass peeked out from the snow, or a pine tree felled by the wind lay across the way, but none of this gave them direction.
They rode like this for about half an hour. The wind and snow finally eased somewhat, seeming to prove their direction wasn't entirely wrong.
Nolan relaxed slightly, suddenly speaking up. "Master Samuel."
"Hmm?"
"Have you thought about what to do after we return?"
Samuel's back swayed on his horse, his robe flapping loudly in the wind. After a good while, he slowly replied, "What aspect do you mean, Lord Nolan?"
Nolan exhaled a white breath.
"You know what I'm talking about. That battle in the canyon, the legions on the front lines were almost all left there. Lucas was captured too."
He paused, his voice lowering a bit. "Only the two of us escaped back."
"Yes, what should we do?" Samuel murmured, seemingly casual, but actually tossing the question back to him.
"You know what this means." Nolan's voice was somewhat hoarse in the wind. "Once the Merchant Alliance learns of this, our reputations will be ruined. Those councilors won't miss this chance—a ranger who fled the battlefield, a commander who abandoned his soldiers. They'll make a big deal out of this, nail my name to the pillar of shame."
Samuel thought for a moment, then turned his head back.
"Lord Nolan, do you remember what happened on the battlefield?"
Nolan was taken aback. "What do you mean?"
"What I mean is," Samuel's voice was very soft, almost swallowed by the wind, "the legions on the front lines were separated by that Demon King's spell. That stone wall descended from the sky, cutting the battlefield in half."
"The soldiers on the front lines, including Lord Lucas, were left on the battlefield. They're probably captured by that Demon King now."
Nolan stared at him for a long time.
"You're telling me," Nolan said slowly, "no one knows what happened on the front lines?"
Samuel: "Correct. Only we two know."
Nolan understood his words.
The front lines and rear lines were separated by the stone wall. When the wall came down, the scene was chaotic.
The Extraordinary professionals and soldiers on the front lines were all left there. As long as Samuel kept his mouth shut, no one would know what happened there.
Nolan's gaze lingered on Samuel's face for a long time.
"Why are you helping me?" he finally asked after a good while, his voice low as if talking to himself.
Samuel was silent for a moment, then said, "Lord Nolan, what do you think we are?"
Nolan didn't answer.
"We are deserters." Samuel said, his voice as calm as if discussing the weather. "No matter the reason, whether that stone wall existed or not, we abandoned our soldiers and fled the battlefield. That's a fact, and no one can change it."
He paused, his gaze settling on Nolan's face.
"But as long as we don't speak of it, from now on, we are both survivors of that disaster."
"So," Nolan said slowly, "we're on the same boat now."
Samuel gave a slight nod. "Yes, Lord Nolan. We are both survivors."
Nolan reached out, wiped the snowflakes from his face, then gripped the reins again.
"Mr. Samuel, if you ever need anything in the future, come find me at the Seagull Ship Society. Come sit, have a cup of coffee."
A faint smile finally appeared at the corner of Samuel's mouth.
"Of course. I hear Master Erandil is temporarily staying there. His singing voice is said to be more beautiful than a nightingale's. I was planning to go listen."
Nolan nodded, turned his horse's head, and continued forward.
The snow was still falling, but it seemed lighter than before. The distant hills loomed faintly in the wind and snow, like some slowly moving white giants.
Samuel didn't bring up the topic of the council again, because his goal had been achieved.
He truly couldn't integrate into those Visaji circles.
Those ancient noble families, those bloodlines and honors passed down for centuries, were like an unbridgeable chasm to him.
He was a peripheral advisor to the Merchant Alliance Council, a hired mage, an outsider without land or blood ties.
But from now on, all this would change.
Nolan Zachary Graham, master of the Seagull Ship Society. He had operated within the Merchant Alliance for decades, accumulating countless connections and resources.
And now, an invisible bond existed between him and Nolan.
A bond woven from a shared secret.
From now on, he and Nolan were on the same boat.
Which meant he finally had the ability to meddle in Merchant Alliance politics.
Of course, this didn't mean he was interested in politics.
This was merely him preparing to offer a gift to the Demon King.