### Chapter 100: Warm Tea, Lake Water, Pine Forest, Moonlit Night (Part 2)
Boom, boom, boom, boom—
The sky was lit up by jagged lightning, illuminating the gray old castle. The execution grounds nearby were silent, vast streaks of bl**d cascading from the high platform, washed down by the rain into sinuous crimson rivers. In that moment, when the white lightning flashed, it looked shockingly vivid.
When the last batch of corpses and heads were carted away for burial, the storm that had been ravaging Silgaya’s southern border since the end of March seemed to calm a little.
Outside the castle, in the square and the countless barracks standing under the walls, the knights and robed figures rushed back and forth in the weak firelight of the night. Some had taken off their armor, gathered in groups, sitting in front of the gray-white brick barracks, scrubbing the bl**d and mud from their armor in the rain. Others silently honed their long swords on whetstones while several patrol teams took turns sweeping the high walls, searching for any lurking enemies in the dark.
The night had grown deep.
Above, the sky was covered in thick clouds, with no trace of stars.
Two crescent moons lifted from the mist, casting a faint glow on the ground.
Under the moonlight, women with disheveled hair and mismatched attire slowly drifted away from the execution grounds—one, two… five, ten… Their eyes dull, most left without a word, moving like zombies, as if they knew not where they were headed. Occasionally, someone burst into sharp, eerie laughter that echoed across the castle, like ghosts in the night.
A few nuns stood in the rain, waving at the women, shouting, “Please avoid the rain and come inside the castle! Lady Alanster will arrange a resting place for you—”
“No matter if you had a place in the castle before, please head to the great hall—”
The nuns shouted earnestly; some heard them and slowly wandered towards the castle gates, while others stood still, looking up at the night sky, letting the rain drench them and their dazed, lost faces.
In the darkness, someone quietly slipped away from an unnoticed corner, going in the opposite direction from the inner castle.
She detached herself from the crowd, walking slowly, her steps unsteady, her skirt fluttering slightly in the wind and rain. Her oversized rough clothes revealed one shoulder, and her brown hair clung to her face, soaking wet.
The woman began to walk faster, quickly veering into the high tower. Before long, she climbed up the castle wall, stepping onto the parapet and standing slowly. At that moment, a patrolling knight just happened to pass below the wall. Someone spotted her, paused, and lifted a hand to admonish, “Hey…”
Not far away, several women who sensed something turned back to see the frail figure standing atop the wall, her hair tousled by the wind, her skirt flapping like a flag. Someone recognized her, staring blankly, murmuring, “Emina…”
“Emina—!”
The woman named Emina slightly lifted her head, as if gazing at the moon. Then, she took a step forward.
And missed her footing.
The frail figure quickly plummeted from the parapet.
For a moment, a chilling scream pierced the night sky, echoing far and wide.
“Ahhh—”
…………
In the inner castle, on the second floor.
In the room where the fire burned, another woman was screaming her heart out.
“Don’t let her move, don’t let her move—”
“Quick, hold her down!”
The woman, her chest exposed, lay on a bl**d-soaked bed with one eye missing, her face wrapped in bandages. She thrashed about like a madwoman, pounding the bed, her complexion as pale as wax paper, neck veins bulging, making sounds like a beast’s roar.
A nun beside her remained calm, gently pressing a cloth soaked in strong liquor against the woman’s chest—two wounds, each larger than a bowl, symmetrical, bl**d oozing everywhere—other than that, nothing else.
I tossed the bloodied cloth into the basin and, hearing the nun’s words, quickly grabbed the woman’s flailing hands and pressed them down on the headboard.
“Please, bear with it…”
Sweat was about to drip into my eyes, but I dared not wipe it away.
Another nun brought a wooden tube to her mouth: “Bite this!”
The woman shook her head violently.
“Her wounds are splitting open!”
bl**d gushed from the woman’s chest wound like a fountain, the nun hurriedly pressed a cloth to it, her movements getting frantic, a few drops of warm bl**d splattered onto my face.
“Apply the hemostatic grass!”
“We’re out of hemostatic grass; quick, go to the hall and get some! And the quicksilver root! It needs to be smashed—”
“I’ll go; you keep pressing her!”
The woman seemed to be tiring, her struggles weakening. I knew it was fine to leave her to the nun; I knew where the herbs were, and nobody could outrun me.
“I… hurt so much…”
“So painful…”
The woman was twitching slightly, her weak murmurs reached my ears.
“You will, it’s alright…”
I leaned down, forcing a smile to comfort her, then told the nun: “I’ll be right back!”
I turned and bolted out of the room, nearly bumping into a nun as I rushed downstairs to the hall, spotting several tents. The supervising nun looked at me urgently: “Hemostatic grass, quicksilver root!”
I recognized the quicksilver root at a glance from gathering it in the forest before, and hurriedly dove into one of the tents, my hand reaching into a wooden box to grab a handful.
“Bowls, bowls! Which room?” the nun called from behind.
“Thirteen, she’s fading.”
“Don’t rush; this is the hemostatic grass…”
The nun grabbed some green leaves and dropped them into a bowl, pouring in water and stirring rapidly. I tossed in the quicksilver root, watching eagerly, my feet tapping in impatience.
Hurry, hurry, hurry…
After what felt like ages, the medicine was finally ready. I took the bowl and dashed back, feeling like a fire burned in my chest, wishing I could use Moon Step to leap up to the second floor directly, but fearing I would spill the medicine. I sprinted back, shouldering the door open: “The herbs are here…”
The sight before me froze me in place.
The weak woman lay on the bed, bl**d gushing from her mouth, choking her windpipe. She coughed, her hand clutching the sheets loosening, her gaze growing more unfocused. The nuns covered their mouths, their expressions ready to burst into tears.
“She bit her tongue…”
“What are you doing, go get the Pope—!”
The nun’s loud call turned into a cry, and someone ran past me in a rush.
I still held the bowl of medicine, walking slowly to the bedside, staring blankly at the woman who continued to bleed. She seemed to sense my gaze, slightly turning her head, a beautiful blue eye tremoring, tears gathering in her eyes as her mouth oozed bl**d, as if trying to say something, but nothing came out.
“Cough, cough…”
After a moment, the corners of her mouth slowly lifted, revealing a somewhat sad, relieved smile.
Her eyes closed.
“Don’t d*e…”
I felt utterly lost.
Do something…
Do something fast…
But I could do nothing, my mind blank.
I watched as the color drained from her face, her chest’s wounds still bleeding but no longer rising and falling.
Inside, it felt like my heart was being ripped apart.
The other two nuns stood silently; the room fell into a sudden hush until the young Pope pushed the door open, tiny motes of blue light bursting forth. The divine miracle’s glow illuminated the room, and the nuns moved again, but the woman would never awaken.
The nun who was a bit older covered her with a white sheet.
“Is there any hemostatic grass left—”
From the corridor outside the door, someone shouted urgently.
Hemostatic grass…
The shout reached my ears, and about two seconds later, I snapped back to reality, my brain functioning again.
I had the prepared hemostatic medicine.
“Here!”
There was no time to breathe, no space for sorrow. The woman had died, and countless others lived on; if they didn’t receive effective treatment swiftly, they might not last half the night.
I couldn’t stop…
Cradling the bowl, I ran out of the room and to the nun calling for help.
“Lady Silvya, please come with me.”
She sprinted, leading me to another room, where I saw a small girl lying on the bed, her eyes tightly shut.
She looked to be just over ten years old, her small body curled up, her delicate brow furrowed, her cheeks flushed, presumably running a high fever, and unconscious. A cleric had just finished casting a healing miracle on her, a faint golden aura still lingering. I rushed forward, hearing the girl mumbling incoherently.
“How is she?”
The nun asked the cleric.
The other was drenched in sweat, smiling wearily: “We should have saved her.”
“Thank heavens…”
The nun sighed with relief, patting her chest.
The young cleric leaned limply against the wall, catching his breath for two seconds, then waved his hand: “I’m leaving this to you; there’s another person downstairs who needs checking.”
“Thanks for your hard work.”
The cleric hurriedly left the room, and I handed the herbs to the nun. She was about to take them when suddenly, a call came from outside: “Aisha, Aisha! Come help; another patient is coughing up bl**d!”
The nun named Aisha’s expression changed: “Coming!”
She then said to me, “Lady Silvya, this girl’s condition is basically stable now; she’s currently sleeping. Just apply the medicine to her wound; it’s only that one spot. Don’t put too much; save some for the others… I’ll be back soon.”
After Aisha gave me her instructions, she left in a hurry. I could vaguely hear suppressed groans and cries from the next room. The sounds weren’t loud, but they conveyed pain and torment, stirring something in my heart. I paused for a moment, shook my head, and concentrated.
Just applying medicine… is easy…
I walked slowly to the girl’s bedside, sitting down with the herbs, glancing at her restless face in sleep—she seemed to be having a nightmare, her brow furrowed, her mouth murmuring.
“Mom… Mom…”
She’s calling for her mother…
Is her mother still alive?
I wiped my hands with the liquor-soaked cloth, swirling my fingers in the sticky herbs, gently applying them to the girl’s wound.
It was the most delicate part of her.
A ten-year-old little girl, still undeveloped in those tender areas.
A small flower, cruelly torn apart, the tear almost half a finger long. Though it was healing, with the scab dried up, the wound still sent shivers down my spine, like a hammer smashing my chest, making it hard to breathe.
She’s too young…
Who was so cruel…
As I applied the herbs, my nose began to tingle.
My hands trembled uncontrollably.
d*mn it…
d*mn it!!!
“I… am scared…”
The little girl continued to mumble in her sleep, her abdomen rising and falling, her head shaking. I reached out to touch her hair splayed on the bed and pinched her chubby little cheek.
“Don’t be afraid; your big sister is here.”
“You will be okay…”
“You have a long, long road ahead of you… One day, you will certainly find a very special man who loves you… But for now, you need to get better quickly…”
I didn’t even realize my voice was choking up.
And the little girl’s face was blurring in my sight.
Soon, light footsteps sounded behind me.
Aisha, the nun, returned to the room, placing her hand on my shoulder: “Lady Silvya…”
“I’m okay.”
I quickly wiped my tears, sniffing, and stood up from the bed, holding out the bowl to the nun: “I’ve applied the medicine; the rest…”
Before I could finish my sentence, suddenly, a white shadow fell from above outside the window, like a drifting snowflake, a fleeting moment—
Boom.
I heard a muffled thud.
My mouth opened to say something… but I forgot. Aisha and I exchanged looks, then both turned to glance outside, our minds still processing.
What was that just now?
A person?
It was a person…
“Ah—”
In a daze, the women outside the castle screamed, the chaotic sounds blending together.
“It’s Noya…”
“Quick, save her!”
“She jumped from the third floor…”
