"Quick! Quick!"
"Soft bed! Soft bed!"
The Upper Evil Spirit's sudden collapse threw the "Mist" camp into chaos.
Xiwalka shouted loudly, while the old Demon Hunter flashed directly to the Upper Evil Spirit's side. Seeing that the Upper Evil Spirit was merely pale, breathing steadily, and had no fever, the old Demon Hunter finally let out a sigh of relief.
He had truly feared that this kind bishop had chosen some wrong method.
Thankfully, it was not the worst outcome.
Watching the Upper Evil Spirit being carefully carried onto a soft bed, the old Demon Hunter looked at the young Knight, who had gone blank again, and could not help sighing. "Plague isn't so easily cured."
Not so easily cured?
The young Knight froze.
He stared blankly at the Upper Evil Spirit being carried away and instinctively asked, "Lord Edson, what do you mean?"
"Plague does not appear out of nowhere, nor does it vanish out of nowhere."
"It has merely entered another body from one body."
"He is bearing the pain in your stead."
"Just as he said."
"He is willing to bear everything for you, including..."
"Death!"
The old Demon Hunter could not help taking a deep breath.
His voice unconsciously lowered.
"What a fool."
"I thought I would never see someone like that again."
With that, the old Demon Hunter walked straight toward the watchtower.
With one powerful fighter missing, the camp's defenses had become dangerously thin.
Before that fellow woke up, he had decided to guard this place in his stead.
A unilateral decision.
It had nothing to do with anything else.
It was simply because there were fewer and fewer fools like that in this world.
The young Knight stood there blankly.
The old Demon Hunter's words had been unmistakably clear.
The guilt that had