The defense line's scars and the beast of war

A cold wind blew in through the collar, carrying a lingering stench of decay.

Shien sat astride his horse, followed closely by Ivan and a dozen or so fully armed Knight.

They were following Bishop Castian's party, heading towards the heart of the Tear Knight Defense Line's defenses, the Tear Knight City.

This wasteland, which had just been ravaged by the Blood Moon Season, was a scene of shocking devastation.

The once impregnable Long Night Fief is now nothing but charred ruins, burned to a white expanse.

Along the roadside, in the muddy puddles, one can occasionally see the cleanly gnawed bones of white people, half exposed and half buried in the mud.

What's most chilling are the Lesser Sacred Flame Altar set up along the route.

The Holy Silver pedestal, a symbol of the Church, has now been completely destroyed by strong acid and brute force. The broken metal supports sway precariously in the cold wind, no longer able to ignite even a spark.

Bishop Castian slowed his horse, allowing it to travel alongside Shien.

The old, iron-willed bishop swept his gaze across the devastated wasteland, his nasolabial folds appearing even deeper.

"Five years ago, the Tear Knight Defense Line was the toughest nut to crack among the Twelve Wall Sections." Castian raised his whip, pointing to the ruins in the distance.

"In recent years, for some reason, the Blood Moon Conference has focused all its attention on this area."

High- Blood Clan, Werewolf leaders, and other evil Dark Races are all putting pressure on this defensive line.

They used their lives and blood to gnaw away at this iron wall, turning it into this grotesque mess.

The bishop had already taken Shien as his student, and there was not a trace of lament in his tone. It was as if he were dissecting a specimen and laying out its contents for Shien to see.

"No matter how crazy the Magic Creature outside are, they can be held up for a while by using human lives and Holy Silver. What really bleeds this defensive line is the bloodless knife of the Church."

Governor Yasol was a lowly soldier who climbed up from the dead and rotten flesh. Every scar on his body was a testament to his military achievements. He relied solely on the Silver Spear in his hand to rise to the position of Governor.

Shien listened quietly, his gaze fixed on the horse's flowing mane, without interrupting.

"But in the eyes of those old fogies in the Holy City who sit comfortably in their high chairs, such a person who truly shed blood on the Great Wall is—" Castian's withered lips curled into a mocking smile.

"So they sabotaged the support, just coldly watching the Tear Knight Defense Line get swallowed up by the night."

The wind passed between the two riders, making the hem of their cloaks flutter.

Shien remained silent for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully, before speaking, "Your Excellency, the light of the Sacred Flame is never lit to allow cowards to live. The darker the Blood Moon, the more it reveals who the true martyrs who burn for the Holy Light are."

He turned his head slightly to meet Castian's gaze, and said each word with conviction, "The Blood Moon has concentrated its forces on the Tear Knight not because this place is weak, but precisely because it is still incredibly strong. As long as the Tear Knight's fire is not extinguished, the backbone of the entire Eternal Night Wall has not yet been broken."

I have no right to comment on the considerations of the Holy City's central government, but it is because of you, and Governor Yasol, who still stands on these ruins, that the Sacred Flame has been able to continue to this day, isn't it?"

These words were spoken calmly, without any deliberate exaggeration or hesitation.

Beneath Shien's calm expression, however, lay a chillingly cold mind.

He had no interest in, let alone believed, this narrative of suffering and hardship; he simply presented Castian with what he wanted to hear.

The warhorse's pace gradually slowed down.

Castian pulled hard on the reins, stopping in the middle of the muddy road. He turned his head, his grey-blue eyes fixed on the silver-haired boy before him.

The wind howled between the two of them across the wasteland.

Deep within the vision of Shien, the deep green Grace Value hovering above Castian's head flickered slightly.

The old bishop's chest rose and fell slightly, and the gloom and coldness that had been suppressed in his eyes for years relaxed a little at this moment.

He looked at Shien, his eyes filled with relief, but also with a faint trace of weariness.

"If those guys in the Holy City 'Council of Deliberation who only know how to sip vintage wine had even half your sobriety—"

Castian took a deep breath, slowly shook his head, then spurred his horse forward again.

"Even with the Tear Knight Defense Line, they wouldn't be in this state today."

The convoy passed through the last layer of thick Gray Fog, and the Tear Knight City came into view.

As Shien sat on horseback, the chill in his lungs seemed to pause for a moment.

Blocking the view at the far end was a colossal structure nestled in the heart of the Blackrock Mountains.

The mountain was hollowed out and forged from Refined Steel and Holy Silver into a colossal war beast that lay at the throat of the wasteland.

Several terrifying claw marks, several meters deep, slashed diagonally down the wall, tearing the Refined Steel and rock into curls and outwards. It was unclear which Fourth Tier- or even Fifth Tier Magic Creature had left these marks.

At the highest point, a huge White-Gold Sacred Flame emblem is embedded in the rock strata, surrounded by dense arrays of Holy Silver patterns that follow the contours of the mountain.

It opened up like a giant, luminous net, enveloping the entire mountain.

On the muddy slope outside the city gate, several mounds of flesh were piled up haphazardly.

Several headless, carbonized remains of Fourth-Tier Demonic Beast were still oozing thick, black blood, which dripped onto the Frozen Tundra and sizzled as it corroded downwards.

Beyond the city gate, the scene inside was even more unsettling.

A long line of flatbed wooden carts was rolling over the stone road, piled high with mutilated human limbs.

The expressionless laborers pulled on the ropes, dumping cartloads of minced meat into several giant furnaces spewing black smoke in the distance.

Along the walls on both sides of the street, wounded soldiers, wrapped in blood-soaked burlap, sat slumped in dense rows, but no one groaned or cried out, only their heavy, suppressed breathing could be heard.

In the very center of the field of vision, a thick pillar of light pierced the sky, carving out a vast area of light in this darkness.

This is the heart of the Tear Knight City — the Main Sacred Flame Tower.

Upon seeing the beam of light, the oppressive feeling in Shien's chest instantly dissipated, and even the bright Blood Moon overhead became blurred.

Standing before this immense power, enough to subdue an entire region, Shien stopped his horse.

The foundation he built with his own hands in Blackpine Fief, the Ghoul Legion he painstakingly shredded, are nothing compared to this ultimate meat grinder that has swallowed countless lives to survive.

A sense of insignificance and urgency surged up, gripping my heart tightly.

Castian's warhorse stopped beside him, and following Shien's gaze, glanced at the pillar of light that stretched to the sky. "Go to the west barracks first and wash off the smell of blood all over you."

After saying that, he withdrew his gaze, his tone revealing a subtle expectation. "Governor Yasol's summons will arrive soon. Use this time to catch your breath, and then perform well."