Chapter 223: Mysterious Savior?

The Heresy Hunt had turned into a butcher’s yard.

Following Inspector Lyrex’s disastrous, fruitless chase through the alleys of Oscros City, the Grey Paladins had completely abandoned any lingering pretense of holy restraint.

Driven by the confirmed presence of a high-ranking Martial General moving hidden within the city walls, Inspector Lyrex had issued a quiet, ruthless directive to his men:

Flush out the heretics by any means necessary.

The Paladins took this as absolute permission to unleash their worst impulses.

No longer did they bother with formal arrests, transport chains, or secret midnight investigations.

People were no longer disappearing into underground dungeons—they were dying where they stood, right in the middle of the cobblestone streets.

By noon, the main commercial district of Oscros City was silent except for the heavy thud of steel boots and the desperate, weeping prayers of the civilian populace.

A senior Grey Paladin stood at the center of a wide, blood-soaked square.

His radiant silver plate armor was heavily splattered with dark, drying crimson. In his right hand, he lifted an ordinary, middle-aged man high off the ground by his throat.

The man’s legs dangled helplessly in the air.

He thrashing wildly, his hands desperately clawing at the Paladin’s iron gauntlet as his face turned a deep, suffocating purple.

"Speak, demonic trash!" the Paladin growled, his voice muffled behind his silver visor, his eyes burning with frantic zealotry. "Where are the remaining Apostle cells hiding in this city? Give me names, or I will purge your whole bloodline!"

"P-Please... mercy!" the man gasped, tears and blood leaking from his eyes as he struggled to squeeze out the words.

"I... I know nothing! I am just a tailor... mercy!"

"Lies! All of you are harboring the beasts!"

CRUNCH!

With a sickening, violent flex of his aura, the Paladin crushed the tailor’s neck like a dry twig.

The man’s body went instantly limp, slipping from the Paladin’s gauntlet and collapsing onto the bloody stone floor.

Surrounding the Paladin lay nearly a dozen other men who had suffered the exact same brutal fate over the last hour.

All around the square, hundreds of citizens of Oscros City knelt in the dirt, their entire bodies shivering violently.

Entire families—fathers, mothers, and terrified children—clung to one another on their knees, crying silently and pleading for mercy into the cold dirt.

Not a single soul dared to look up. Nobody knew who would die next.

The Paladin turned his head, paying deaf ears to their weeping and muffled prayers.

His featureless silver visor swept slowly over the kneeling crowd, finally locking onto a young girl who was huddled against the base of a stone monument.

She could have been no older than seventeen, her eyes wide with unadulterated horror.

Behind his visor, the Paladin’s eyes gleamed with a dark, disgusting light.

He slowly licked his lips.

He stepped over the pile of corpses, his heavy armor clanking as he approached the girl.

Without a word of warning, he reached down, his heavy gauntlet clamping down onto her long hair.

"Ahhh! Help me! Mother!" the girl screamed, her voice cracking in pure terror.

With a callous, off-handed swing, the Paladin yanked her off her feet and threw her across the square.

BANG!

The girl’s body slammed violently into the hard brick wall of a nearby shop, shattering the stone facade before she slid down onto the ground in a broken heap.

"My daughter! No! Spare her!"

A woman—the girl’s mother—broke from the kneeling crowd in a frantic, suicidal desperate rush.

She threw herself toward the Paladin, begging for her child’s life with open arms.

Without even slowing his pace, the Paladin brought his heavy, steel-clad boot sweeping around in a sharp kick.

BOOM!

The explosive force of a high-tier cultivator’s physical attack struck the woman broadside.

Her body instantly disintegrated upon impact, exploding into a sickening spray of meatpaste, blood, and broken bone that painted the stone wall behind her.

"Pathetic heretical trash," the Paladin muttered, stepping over the fresh gore without a single drop of remorse.

He made his way calmly toward the stone wall where the young girl lay.

She was battered, covered in deep bruises, and barely breathing.

The impact had torn her thin cotton dress along the shoulder and torso, exposing her pale, delicate skin to the biting wind.

The Paladin stopped above her, his gaze lingering over her exposed form.

He licked his dry lips once again, his voice dropping into a low, revolting purr that only she could hear.

"Look at you... corrupted by the sins of the God of Beast," the Paladin whispered, reaching out a blood-stained gauntlet toward her trembling shoulder.

"You are fortunate I am a generous servant of the heavens. I can personally cleanse your body and wash away your heavy sins... provided you prove yourself to be a good, obedient little dog and warm my bed tonight."

He reached down and grabbed her roughly by her hair again, dragging her broken frame across the ruined stone floor.

"Please... someone... kill me..." the girl whimpered, her consciousness fading.

Suddenly, the Paladin’s movement came to an abrupt, absolute halt.

An sudden, suffocating pressure seized the air around the square.

The temperature dropped so fast that frost instantly coated the cobblestones beneath their feet.

The Paladin’s eyebrows furrowed behind his visor as he felt a cold shudder run down his spine.

He slowly raised his head.

Standing directly before him, less than five paces away, was a tall, imposing man who seemed to have materialized directly out of the thin air.

The stranger was draped in a long, obsidian-black trench coat that fluttered gently despite the dead calm air.

Cascading down past his waist was a magnificent mane of brilliant golden hair, and his eyes—shining like two molten suns—burned with a ancient, terrifying golden light that seemed to pierce right through the Paladin’s soul.

The Paladin growled, his hand instinctively dropping the girl’s hair as he gripped the hilt of his broadsword, his voice tight with sudden, defensive rage.

"Who the hell are you?" the Paladin demanded, stepping back. "That posture... that aura... Are you the Apostle of the Church of the God of Beast?!"

The tall young man did not answer immediately.

A calm, razor-thin smile touched his lips—a smile that held no warmth whatsoever.

"Release the innocent lady," the golden-haired stranger spoke softly, his voice carrying a deep, resonant rumble that shook the dust off the surrounding rooftops.

The Paladin stared at the stranger for a brief second before bursting into a harsh, arrogant laugh.

He drew his broadsword halfway from its scabbard, his eyes crinkling behind his visor.

"And what if I don’t, you beastly scum?" the Paladin grinned wickedly, stepping forward.

"What are you going to do if I rip her—"

Before he could complete his sentence—

BOOM!

A violent explosion of crimson mist and shattered steel erupted into the air.

Without the golden-haired man so much as twitching a finger, both of the Paladin’s heavy, steel-armored arms violently exploded from the shoulders down.

Flesh, bone, and silver plate were pulverized into microscopic red dust in a split second, leaving two gushing, ragged stumps spraying hot blood across the square.