The Teleportation Went Off Course

Before setting out, Ullr had planned the route map thoroughly.

At the eastern wall, beneath the third gray brick by the old bell tower, there was a gap in the defenses that had failed.

As long as her teleportation landing point was accurate enough, she could even avoid the first patrol.

Of course, she currently only dared believe half of what that unscrupulous merchant said.

The misty light around her burst apart, and Isolde crashed heavily into the snow.

Cold instantly poured down her collar. Her throat tightened, and she nearly coughed.

It was quiet around her, quiet enough for her to hear the faint sound of snow falling onto branches.

Isolde slowly pushed herself up. After taking a moment to recover, she gradually raised her head and surveyed her surroundings.

Tall black pines stood all around her, their branches weighed down by thick snow. In the distance, gray mountain silhouettes were obscured by thin mist.

The daylight was dim; she could not tell whether it was dusk or the overcast sky before a blizzard.

Grey Dove Monastery should have been nearby, but this was definitely not the Corpse Transport Road Ullr had mentioned.

Isolde lowered her gaze to her palm.

Amid the shattered powder was a trace of pale golden Holy Radiance, scorching her skin red.

The answer automatically surfaced in her mind—the Holy Court Protective Array.

No wonder the teleportation had gone off course.

Ullr probably knew the barrier would interfere with the landing point, but he had not said so.

Creatures like unscrupulous merchants were best at treating "you didn't ask" as "there was no need to tell you."

Isolde shook the snow from her sleeves and took a few steps forward.

Just as she was about to take out the map and get her bearings, a deep, beast-like growl suddenly came from the woods.

It was not far away, behind her to the left.

Then came a second wolf howl.

This time, it was from the right.

She lowered her hand as magic slowly gathered at her fingertips.

The wind through the forest suddenly picked up, knocking snow from the branches.

A shadow emerged from behind a tree.

It was a snow-white wolf, enormous and long-limbed, nearly reaching her shoulder in height.

It bared its stark white teeth, its nose pressed to the snow as it slowly sniffed the spot where she had fallen.

Then it raised its head, fixed its gaze on her, and let out a dangerous growl.

Isolde held her breath and leaned back slightly.

She remembered that Icefield Wolves of the Northlands could not only smell flesh and blood, but also sense residual magic.

The traces of dark power on her body had been deeply suppressed by the Unicorn's holiness, but when the teleportation stone shattered, a fleeting trace of the Castle's aura had leaked out. It might not be possible to conceal it completely.

A soft click of a crossbow being cocked came from behind the trees.

Isolde slowly raised her hand. "I mean no harm."

Someone sneered from deep within the snowy forest.

"Everyone who falls right under an Icefield Wolf's nose says that."

One of the men, clad in a beast-hide cloak, stepped out from the shadows of the trees.

He was tall, frost clinging to the edges of his leather armor. A hand axe hung at his waist, and a heavy crossbow was slung across his back.

An old scar ran diagonally across his face, from brow bone to jaw, giving him a naturally imposing air whenever he looked at someone.

Several more figures emerged behind him.

Ash-gray cloaks, rune-inscribed crossbow bolts, dark red knots of cord.

Northern Witch Hunters.

The name flashed through Isolde's mind.

Ullr had mentioned them. They specialized in hunting witches, Beastfolk, necromancers, and anything that "didn't look quite human but wasn't fully dead yet."

The lead man stopped three zhang away.

"Name."

Isolde's throat moved slightly. "Yu Lingye."

The man stared at her. "Identity."

Isolde replied, "Free Mage."

The man examined her. "Are you an Adventurer?"

"Adventurer" was the collective term the natives of this world used for suddenly appearing "players." Strangely, they seemed long accustomed to this bizarre race that had appeared out of nowhere.

Some even believed they were messengers sent by the gods. Over time, factions and groups had begun actively recruiting them.

Of course, others saw them as an ill omen, as exiles.

They neither welcomed nor rejected them, merely observed them in secret.

And the Northern Witch Hunters belonged to the second type.

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She was currently wearing the face from her previous life. This identity was instead the most suitable one for remaining within the players' neutral camp.

She answered, "Yes."

The man's gaze turned colder.

A young witch hunter behind him immediately raised his crossbow, his voice tight.

"She's lying! An Adventurer could never cross the snowy forests of the Northlands alone. She must be a lackey of the Holy Court."

Isolde looked at him.

He was young, perhaps in his teens, with dark circles beneath his eyes and lips turned pale from the cold.

Isolde withdrew her gaze. "I didn't walk here." She slowly spread open her burned palm. "I merely suffered a teleportation failure by accident."

The older witch hunter narrowed his eyes. When he saw the scorch marks on her palm and the lingering Holy Radiance, his expression changed slightly.

"Burned by the Holy Court Protective Array."

The lead man stepped half a pace closer, and the Icefield Wolf immediately followed, its nose twitching softly.

Isolde could feel its gaze bypassing the disguise of Purifying Light and probing deeper, inch by inch.

Her back slowly grew cold.

Then the man spoke. "You're going to Grey Dove Monastery?"

Isolde did not answer immediately.

Remaining silent for too long would seem suspicious, but answering too quickly would make it sound like a prepared lie.

She let her lips tremble faintly and said calmly, "I accepted an escort commission."

"Escort what?"

"A person."

"What person?"

Isolde blinked, her fingers tightening slightly within her sleeve.

"Someone who wants to escape from the monastery."

The snowy forest fell silent for a moment, and the young witch hunter's expression abruptly changed.

"What person? Explain yourself!"

His voice rose, filled with barely suppressed urgency.

The lead man raised a hand. "Colin."

The young man abruptly shut his mouth, but his eyes remained fixed on Isolde.

Isolde understood.

These Northern Witch Hunters had likely not come here merely to seize something.

There might be someone—or a corpse—they were looking for inside Grey Dove Monastery.

Otherwise, they would not have appeared near the Corpse Transport Road.

She did not continue elaborating the lie. A lie needed gaps, so others could fill them with the information they thought they knew.

"I never saw my employer's face," she said quietly. "They only told me to wait outside Grey Dove Monastery, on the Corpse Transport Road. If there was no signal before nightfall, I was to leave."

Colin gritted his teeth.

"Nonsense! The outer perimeter of Grey Dove Monastery has been sealed for three days. The people inside can't get out at all!"

The moment the words left his mouth, his face turned even paler.

The older witch hunter beside him frowned and snapped in a low voice, "Colin!"

Colin's fingers tightened around the crossbow trigger, his breathing rapid. He seemed to be trying to endure it, but his chest rose and fell violently.

"My brother is in there! She must know something!"

Isolde looked at him, her heart stirring slightly.

It seemed she had stumbled onto the truth by accident.

The lead man's voice sank as he looked toward Isolde.

"My name is Hewin Hartmann, of the Northern Witch Hunters."

He had finally revealed his identity, which meant he did not intend to kill her immediately.

"Yu Lingye." Hewin looked at her. "Your mage mark."

Isolde slowly raised her hand, condensing a faint wisp of white light in her palm.

It was a disguised mark she had dismantled from one of Meng Yinyin's class skills. She had suppressed it to a very faint degree and deliberately made its color impure.

The witch hunters exchanged glances. Colin's hostility had not faded, but he hesitated for a moment.

The older witch hunter said in a low voice, "It's a basic mage mark."

Hewin did not relax. "There's another scent on you."

Isolde's heart gave a small jolt.

The hound let out a low whine and pressed half a step closer.

"I haven't bathed in a long time since coming to this world." She raised her eyes to Hewin. "It's not strange for me to smell a little unpleasant."

Hewin stared at her for a long while. "I remember Adventurers always traveled in teams. Why are you alone?"

Isolde tugged at the corner of her mouth, revealing a tired smile.

"The team fell apart."

She did not elaborate, but her lowered eyes and the old wounds not entirely hidden beneath her sleeves were enough for people to imagine the rest.

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