Chapter 573: Act 320 – The Battle of Saintly White IV
Merchant Miss huddled her knees, crouching among the ruins. Occasionally, she stretched out her swan-like slender neck to glance at the situation outside, her brown eyes spinning around until she was satisfied that no soldiers remained. Only then did she dust off her skirt and stand up.
“Hah—” After exhaling deeply, she asked, “Sister White, this is the so-called Temple, but I don’t see Brendel anywhere!”
The one referred to as ‘Sister White’ was a female spirit, her upper body a charmingly beautiful woman with a pair of elfin-like pointed ears, while her lower half seemed almost transparent, composed of a swirling mass of dust and airflow.
In ancient records written on red parchment, this female form was described as a spirit. Although the Witch King could bind all spirits, she was particularly fond of the ‘White Mist’ of the North Wind, who was the keeper of knowledge on the glacier left by the Ice Queen for Romaine, hoping to draw upon her wisdom and experience.
‘White Mist’ was a stunningly beautiful woman but had a pair of listless, dead fish eyes. She glanced at Romaine and replied weakly, “Fate lies both before and behind you. Mortals may steer its direction but cannot perceive its form.”
“I just thought Brendel would be over there. Is the divination result really accurate, Sister White?” Merchant Miss couldn’t help but ask curiously.
“Divination is self-inquiry; believe and it exists, disbelieve and it ceases to be.”
Romaine tilted her head, not quite sure if she understood, but confidently walked in a certain direction. After just a couple of steps, she stopped and took two steps back, picking up a hammer from the rubble.
This was a sacred vessel used by priests to ward off evil during ceremonies, its silver handle adorned with exquisite patterns, and the hammerhead contained a burst of sacred light. Typically, priests handled it with great care. However, Merchant Miss seemed unconcerned with this concept and swung it casually—feeling quite at ease, she nodded in satisfaction.
“Do you intend to use that for self-defense? Wisdom and knowledge are far more effective,” White Mist shook her head disapprovingly.
“Yeah, I used to have a hammer in Buche too. But then Brendel lost it,” Romaine pondered, unable to figure out who ultimately ended up with that hammer, so she conveniently pinned the blame on Brendel. How could a shrewd merchant be careless and lose something? All of this was Brendel’s fault!
Brendel, feeling inexplicably, sneezed.
The two passed through the ruins of the Grand Temple of Andfleur and reached a certain spot when, suddenly, with a ‘crash,’ loose stones tumbled down from an inclined wall, revealing a person emerging from below. The person wore noble attire, with a long sword at his waist, but his hair and clothes were covered in white chalk dust, making him look rather disheveled.
Viscount Begning blinked as he struggled to readjust to the sunlight outside. When he left through the secret passage, he did not expect the ground to suddenly crack open, with lava erupting from all sides. His attendants had perished in the fire, and he barely escaped thanks to a family heirloom amulet. Relying on his memories of the secret pathways beneath the temple, he found a way to safety.
As he cleared the rubble, he spotted a sprightly figure standing not far from him, gazing vacantly at him with her hands behind her back. Viscount Begning, meticulous and with an exceptional memory, recognized her identity in an instant, having met Romaine only once in Margadale.
“Miss Romaine?”
“Ah,” Romaine dazedly replied, “how do you recognize me?”
“It’s me, Viscount Begning. Miss Romaine, do you remember me? I was with the princess, we met once before.” Seeing her so easily fooled, Begning couldn’t help but feel delighted. He was unaware of the events transpiring outside the temple but guessed that the two sides had already begun to fight. This girl was evidently very close to Brendel, and if he could seize her, it would diminish the princess’s support.
“Oh, oh,” Romaine nodded seriously, “I understand now. Since you recognized me, I suppose it can’t be helped!”
“Uh?” Viscount Begning paused, baffled by the flow of the conversation. “Wait, I am with the princess—”
He never imagined that Romaine would act before he could finish, and she struck with the hammer she had hidden behind her back, swinging it toward his forehead.
Viscount Begning was a peak Iron-tier warrior, so he thought a blow from an ordinary person would only cause minor pain. However, the hammer that Merchant Miss casually picked up was also a ceremonial item, and when it struck his forehead, a burst of golden light erupted.
Our poor viscount immediately let out a scream and fainted.
“Clearly a grown man pretending to be a princess, how shameless,” Romaine huffed, mimicking Brendel’s manner of speaking for emphasis. White Mist looked at her, speechless.
“However, this guy seems to have decent strength. That strike likely won’t knock him out, and he’ll wake up again soon. You should find something to tie him up.” However, the spirit had no intentions of showing kindness; her duty was merely to ensure her contractor’s safety, not to teach her right from wrong.
Romaine eagerly agreed and quickly rummaged through her bag for a white silk rope to bind Viscount Begning tightly. Not satisfied, she took out a purple silk rope and followed suit. White Mist sighed nearby; these two ropes had significant origins. One was the ‘Olemis Thread’ left to her by the Ice Queen, capable of connecting the living world and the realm of the dead; mortals could enter the territory of the dead by walking along this thread. The other was also a legacy from the Witch Queen, ‘Thivor’s Hair,’ which belonged to Thivor, the Titan King of Vaunte. It was said that he possessed immeasurable strength, and even his hair had the power to lift anything. This thread could amplify strength, but Romaine was using them to tie someone up, which felt like a bit of a waste.
Nevertheless, it was also exceptionally strong. As White Mist predicted, Viscount Begning only fainted for a short while before waking up again. His peak Iron-tier physique surpassed that of ordinary people. However, as soon as he realized he was tied up, the ropes felt different, seemingly like ordinary silk but unyielding. He struggled, but it was futile.
“What is the meaning of this, Miss Romaine?” Begning raised his head, his face an image of frustration. A red mark had appeared on his pale forehead, and a few drops of blood oozed out like petals on a snowy ground, making him look pitiable.
“I’m capturing a prisoner,” Romaine replied, as if it were the most obvious thing.
“But I’m on the princess’s side, Miss Romaine! I am Mister Brendel’s friend! Princess and Mister Brendel are trapped in a conspiracy involving the Temple of Fire and the Northern nobles; they are in danger! We have to help them quickly!” Begning could not help but shout urgently, an earnest expression on his face. He naturally had a face that appealed to women, and in this crisis, he looked quite convincing.
Romaine raised an eyebrow and asked seriously, “You say Brendel is in danger, who exactly are you?”
“I am Viscount Begning! Miss Romaine, don’t you remember me?” Begning sighed. He was furious but felt powerless, forced to endure his predicament.
“Oh, oh, I remember now! You are that Viscount Begning!” Merchant Miss looked suddenly enlightened and, without hesitation, lifted the hammer and struck it against his forehead.
“Ah—!”
Since the sacred light had already been expended, Begning was not knocked out this time, but the pain made him uncontrollably shed tears, “What the hell was that? What did I say wrong this time?” His head buzzed, as if hearing a thousand conversations in his ears.
“This guy has ill intentions toward you; he is deceiving you, but how did you discover that?”
“Oh, I didn’t discover anything,” Romaine replied naturally, “I hate that Viscount Begning; he’s even more handsome than Brendel, he must be a bad person.”
“I…” Viscount Begning’s heart bled. What kind of logic was that? It was the first time he felt that his intelligence was entirely useless, for the other party was entirely unreasonable.
Though White Mist found the situation somewhat absurd, she viewed matters with greater wisdom and nodded, “Your intuition is sharp; perhaps that is why she chose you to inherit this legacy. A witch must clear the fog to see the strands of fate; the eyes of the mind must surpass mundane vision.”
“So how do we deal with him?” Merchant Miss was a bit smug momentarily.
“He wants to deceive you for a purpose. You might ask him what his original plan was. People can lie, but they cannot conceal their desires,” White Mist replied.
Viscount Begning’s face paled at once; the conversation was not safeguarding him. He realized that while Merchant Miss appeared easy to deceive, the one beside her possessed true wisdom.
People like him, who prided themselves on their intelligence and preferred to solve problems with their wits rather than violence, often looked down on brute soldiers. But when trouble truly came, he found himself trembling with fear.
“Why would you deceive me?” Romaine squatted next to him, tilting her head as she questioned the viscount.
“I… I am not deceiving you, Miss Romaine. Everything I say is true,” Viscount Begning clamped his jaw shut, knowing he would likely not succeed but needing that sliver of hope.
“Tell the truth now.”
“I’m telling the truth…” The moment he opened his mouth, he felt something was off, as if his mouth could not be controlled. His thoughts began to spill out intermittently.
The spell’s true words! He looked horrified at Romaine—if he had known the other party was a witch from the start, he would have turned around and run at the first glance.
But it was too late for regrets.
“Indeed a bad guy,” Romaine remarked after hearing Begning’s intent to deceive her to threaten Brendel. Unable to resist, she raised the hammer and struck Begning, who cried out, clutching his head, tears and snot flowing, “Earlier, you said Brendel is that earl; what’s that all about?”
Begning was being tortured to the brink of humanity, but his mouth remained honest, quickly responding amidst tears and snot, “Miss Romaine… ugh… Marquis Julian told us that Mister Brendel might indeed be the true Earl of Yanshank. The world believes he is a Highland Knight or merely Duke Toniger’s brigand; however, according to the intelligence I received, neither seems likely. Mister Brendel first appeared in our sights after Ridenburg; he is not a Highland Knight at all, yet every action exhibits noble demeanor… That cannot be faked, yet I can testify that there is no such person in the noble circle I know…”
“So we believe he might be an unnamed descendant of some noble house in the kingdom or an alias. It now appears that Marquis Julian’s judgment may be correct…”
“I see, Sister White, what do you think?”
“This person wants to harm that one, while you wish to help that one. Conspiracies are like chains; you might ask him what he fears the most among them,” White Mist said expressionlessly, gazing at the limp viscount on the ground.
Fear, dread, and unwillingness flickered across Begning’s face.
“I…”
“Oh? Shall we satisfy Romaine’s curiosity then?”
……
(PS: Today’s 3000 words; time for a break, preparing for an eruption at the end of the month. Tomorrow, still the little adventure of Romaine and White Mist!) (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, feel free to visit Qidian (qidian.com) to cast your recommendation or monthly vote. Your support is my greatest motivation.)
