Chapter 169: The Hangman (Part Two)
Caw—
Above the sky, crows flew by, screeching with a harsh, eerie call.
The Sword Demon and I walked slowly under one of the trees, leading our horned horse. More crows flapped their wings, startled off the bodies littered below.
The air was thick with a stench, and beneath our feet was a sticky, soft black snow. We tied the horned horse to the side of the road and looked up at the countless bodies hanging upside down from the tree. Their shriveled forms wore hunter-style hardened leather armor, bloodied cloaks fluttering in the wind, hands tied behind their backs. The heads looked as if they had been sawed off, with gaping wounds revealing broken neckbones and tracheas. The smell of d*ath was overwhelming—nearly suffocating.
“There was a chase here,” the Sword Demon suddenly said, glancing around at the disordered evidence before focusing intently on the bodies. “These hunters must have been the ones left behind. They bear wounds burned by divine miracles—fatal ones… They didn’t surrender until the end.”
Didn’t surrender…
But then they were bound up, beheaded, and hung from these trees, their bl**d drained for the crows to feast—things I thought only the Gate of Truth could pull off.
“Did the Church really do this?” I murmured.
Two years ago in Silgaya, the First Knights Order, despite their deep hatred for those vicious heretics, never desecrated the bodies of villains like this even in d*ath… The honor of a knight forbade such acts.
The Hangman…
I remember that was the nickname of the nun mentioned by Tarlasya.
“Let’s take them down, Anna.”
“Okay.”
Upon hearing this, the Sword Demon drew her sword and leaped up. Several sharp clangs later, the bodies started falling from the trees, hitting the snow-mud below with a heavy thud. She then transformed into lightning and zoomed off toward another tree that’s hanging with bodies in the distance, while I slowly walked around the fallen bodies toward a small hill behind the tree—there, I saw the heads of the hunter warriors.
Countless bloody heads were carelessly piled up in the snowy slope, some with eyes tightly shut, others glaring wide-eyed at the sky. A few had their eyeballs pecked out by crows. In the dark sockets, dried bl**d and frost mingled, glimmering in a bizarre way.
And perched atop each head was a palm-sized metal cross, pointed and precise.
I squatted down, picked up the head of a long-haired man, now freezing cold like stone, his expression twisted. I noticed the cross appeared to be forcibly driven into his skull, deep into the bone… all the heads were similarly impaled with such devices.
I struggled to understand the meaning behind this.
Is this penance?
Or…
That nun must have some screws loose.
“…Should we bury the bodies?”
Before I realized, the Sword Demon had returned quietly behind me.
I placed the head down, attempted to close its eyes, failed multiple times, and finally gave up. When I turned around, I saw all the bodies that Anna had taken down, sprawled haphazardly in the dark red snow.
“No.”
I shook my head. “We don’t have the time; we’ll deal with it later. We should have Father send someone here… there might be more places like this.”
“Mm.”
The Sword Demon replied with a dull tone.
I turned and started walking back to where the horned horse was. After a couple of steps, I heard her say, “The hanging corpse burial in eastern Silgaya, cutting off heads and nailing crosses… This practice traps the souls of the guilty in their bodies after d*ath, allowing crows to consume them completely, so they can never return to the deity.”
“……”
I paused for a moment.
Then, I quickened my pace.
…………
The sun dipped low.
Thirty kilometers east of Baihao City, on the banks of the Ice River, in Winterwind Town.
Burned wooden stakes let off smoke amid the stark white snow, and the ground was littered with various charred pits. Beside a collapsed tower, a gigantic silver-white holy lance, still glimmering, was buried deep in the ground, surrounded by numerous bloody remnants of bodies, as if something had just ground them into the earth.
The town was a mess of wooden ruins, with the streets lying scattered with the fallen—some knights, but more were from the Shanter Army. The dim sunlight couldn’t mask the pervasive smell of bl**d. In the depths of the town, faint cries could be heard, as firefights erupted amid the crumbled walls, big and small, golden lights flashing, beastly roars echoing. Brave warriors fought valiantly, pouring their rage onto the enemy. In the bl**d-soaked chaos, people crashed into one another, one by one collapsing.
Boom—!!!
A massive explosion erupted from the west of the town, shaking the eaves at the eastern tip vigorously. The blinding rays of the divine nearly outshone the daylight, bl**d mist swirling up, lifting countless severed limbs into the air.
In a filthy, chaotic little shack, a woman, dressed as a hunter, was bandaging the wound of a graying man. His left chest appeared struck by some kind of divine miracle, leaving a horrific bl**d hole nearly an inch wide, not bleeding much, yet the surrounding area was charred significantly.
Sitting bare-chested in a chair, despite his sharp eyes and straight back, his pale face and the sweat pouring down his forehead showed just how much agony he was enduring.
The woman, seeing this, carefully wrapped the bandages around him, a hint of concern flickering across her cold, beautiful face.
“Duke, we can’t hold them off!”
Suddenly, someone burst through the door, covered in bl**d and shouting anxiously, “The enemy is beyond imagination! Once the divine miracle strikes, we have no means to resist; you should leave now! I will hold the remaining thousand Lion Hunting Army at the square as long as I can for you…”
He spoke decisively, bowing earnestly to Duke Skarlij. “May the moonlight be with you, my lord!”
Without looking back, he turned and dashed away.
The hunters guarding the door watched his receding figure with solemn expressions, silently paying their respects.
Silence fell within the shack for a moment.
“Bella…”
Once the woman finished dressing the Duke’s wound, he struggled to put on his clothes. The dark, false fingers of his hand tapped the back of the chair. He looked at the woman before him, who remained expressionless and still showed no panic even at this point, a flicker of appreciation and tenderness secretly gleamed in his eyes.
“If the two of us join forces and fight that nun once more, how much chance do you think we’d have to win?”
The Duke asked, though deep down, he already knew the answer. He then saw the hunter named Bella gently shake her head. “You’re injured.”
Implying that they had already lost once when he was uninjured, winning now seemed even less likely.
“They cannot hold.”
Bella continued, “Whether a thousand or two thousand, it won’t make a difference; she will find this place soon.”
“Yeah,” the Duke sighed with a smile, though for some reason, there was a sense of lightness between his brows. “We can’t escape now. We can only face that nun once more. We’ll just hold her back, at least long enough for as many brothers as possible to survive…”
“No.”
However, Bella shook her head again. “I will stay behind and block her; you can escape.”
