Chapter 2337 - 110: Magic Sword (Part 1)

Xiangzi watched that black-and-white battle line, surging over the Forest like a tide, slowly sweeping toward this direction.

"Xiangzi," Tianlan ran out from within the Forest, shouting loudly, "There are more and more of them, we've got to think of a way, or those people will drag all the Refugees back. They're still killing, it's just too vile...!"

But the youth glanced in that direction, as if he hadn't heard a thing.

Dai wiped her dirty little face, biting her lower lip as she looked at him.

"Mr. Adrian," the little girl's elder sister, that blind maiden, stood at the side at a complete loss, "...I'm sorry, I know this is asking too much... but... could you help everyone once more, help Miss Shaye... I—I'm sorry... but Dai and I truly have no other way..."

Xiangzi gave them a look.

He silently lowered his head, and glanced again at that pitch-black sword at his waist. He gripped the sword with his hand, and the blade answered with a peculiar sensation.

As though a voice there was calling to him.

The stench of blood thick in the air seemed to awaken some Strength slumbering in this sword, that Strength aimed straight at the human heart, as if it were laying bare the thoughts in the depths of his soul.

Xiangzi pressed down on the sword, raised his head, and silently stared ahead.

Not for anyone else's sake, only because never had there been a moment when he so desperately wanted to alter something. That camp fallen into a sea of fire seemed like the reflection of his innermost wish—

He could not simply watch these people die before his eyes.

You need Strength—

a voice said.

Yes, he needed Strength.

...

"Miss Shaye, Miss Shaye? Let us get you away from here first..."

Shaya struggled hard once, tearing free of their hands. She wobbled as she stood up, turned around, and fixed them with eyes dark as ink. In that still, wordless gaze there seemed to be an unspeakable authority. "Go save them," she said; her first words were hoarse to the point of sounding unlike her own. Facing the two still staring dumbly, she raised her voice and repeated, "Go save them."

"But you..."

Cold seeped through the Forest; the air crystallized into rime in the low temperature and fell in soft rustles. White vapor streamed from Shaya's mouth as she spoke in an utterly calm tone: "Gather everyone and get to the Forest." She silently took the Longbow from her back; from exerting herself too hard, the blue veins on the back of her hand stood out one by one.

The two froze for a moment. "Go," Shaya's voice sharpened suddenly, "are you disobeying my orders now?"

Only then did the two seem to wake from a dream. Each drew his sword and charged toward the camp. But Shaya snatched one of them by the right hand. "The Dai sisters... those two girls have no ability to protect themselves. Go find them, guard them well, and get them out of here..." Only then did that man nod in a panic and stumble away.

Only Shaya remained alone. She suddenly remembered that Little Kong was still in the camp, unconsciously bit down lightly on her teeth, then swayed as she braced herself against one tree trunk after another, limping step by step in that direction.

Mercenaries and Knights were surging into the camp; the sounds of slaughter rang across the Forest. The Knights' metal visors reflected the firelight; beneath, cold eyes watched the Refugees scattering in terror. Mercenaries swarmed forward, pinning those utterly defenseless people to the ground. "Any who resist are to be executed on the spot—" in that chilly voice there was something like a righteous proclamation.

If a Refugee so much as struggled, the mercenaries would drive a knee into his back, lift their Dagger high, and plunge it down hard. The blade parted the skin, sending warm blood spraying, soaking the hair at the nape, that dazzling scarlet staining the snow.

No one cared; after all, the soon-to-be dead would resurrect within the Holy Sanctuary, where their own people waited. As for those who had already lost Starlight, their gradually chilling, coagulating eyeballs stared at the ebbing warmth and life—but what of it? Those self-styled Judges did not care in the slightest.

The mercenary, sword in hand and spattered with blood, was just slowly rising from a cold corpse when he suddenly felt the air grow eerily quiet. He turned, and saw a beautiful red-haired woman, her face so pale she looked like a Witch of the Forest, stepping out from behind a clump of bushes. Shaya stopped silently where she was, Longbow in hand, gazing this way.

The mercenary came to his senses, drew his sword to face her, and meanwhile traded glances with his companions, as if they had read this woman's weakness. In Shaya's heavy eyes there was only a dim shadow; she slowly raised the Longbow and took aim at them.

At that moment the mercenaries let out a low whistle and rushed forward together.

Shaya loosed the bowstring; the arrow flew into the crowd like a black Shadow, and one man dropped with a thud.

She turned slightly, raised her right hand, and in one motion drew another arrow from behind her, then faced another direction, nocked and loosed; another man running toward her tumbled and fell, flinging up a spray of snow.

She fired left and right, mercenaries falling one after another, but still someone managed to charge up and thrust his Longsword at her. Shaya swayed once, yet still used the bow to parry that strike; the Iron Sword flashed with cold Light as it crossed with her weapon. She lifted her head then, and her pair of pitch-black, ice-cold eyes locked onto his; the shock of them made him falter ever so slightly.

A bloodstained Dagger had appeared in Shaya's hand at some unknown point; a streak of cold light flashed, and the mercenary clutched his throat, gurgling as he collapsed, warm blood pulping out between his fingers. Shaya grabbed him, turned his body, and used him as a shield in front of her.