The Tear Knights' Decline and the Seed

The Governor's Residence, located deep within Tear Knight City, resembles a wartime command post temporarily set up.

The rough, black stone wall was covered with numerous maps of defense lines of all sizes, with parchment nailed to the edges, covered with messy marching routes and traces of defensive modifications.

On the table, a mountain of blood-stained battle reports completely covered the wood grain.

The supreme commander of the Tear Knight Defense Line, Governor Yasol, was not wearing the Governor's robes that symbolized supreme power at this moment.

He was only wearing a slightly worn leather casual coat, the collar of which was casually open. His face was covered with fine knife scars, and deep weariness hung in the corners of his eyes.

If it weren't for his majestic and profound eyes, he wouldn't look like a high and mighty ruler at all; he would look more like a battle-hardened soldier.

Yasol was standing by the table, holding a flask, drinking extremely strong liquor.

The heavy Oak Door was pushed open, and Bishop Castian strode into the study.

He had removed his Holy Silver armor, which was covered in Magic Creature scratches, and put on a simple gray-black robe without any extra decorations.

Nevertheless, the iron-blooded and murderous aura he exuded remained undiminished in his every move.

"Sit." Yasol didn't turn around, but simply pushed one of the full glasses of strong liquor across the long table.

Castian walked to the table, pulled out the hardwood chair, sat down, and raised his glass.

There was no unnecessary small talk between the two, and even the most basic Church etiquette was omitted.

Because Castian was originally a subordinate whom Yasol had personally trained.

In his early years, he served on the Tear Knight Defense Line, fighting countless tough battles under the Blood Moon alongside the Governor.

Later, due to his military achievements and seniority, he was transferred back to the Holy City and took up the position of the third bishop of the Border Affairs Tribunal.

Logically speaking, that was already a high position far from the front line.

However, in recent years, the situation on the Tear Knight Defense Line has become increasingly dire, and Yasol's side has been unable to cope. Castian eventually took the initiative to request a transfer and returned to the border.

Yasol picked up his glass of wine, tilted his head back, and took a sip.

The spicy liquid rolled down his throat, and the weariness on his face seemed to be somewhat relieved by the heat.

He put down his wine glass, his rough fingers tapping lightly twice on the pile of bloodstained battle reports on the table, his tone gentle yet revealing an undeniable heaviness.

Yasol looked at Castian, a dry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "Old buddy, you willingly gave up the comfortable life in the Holy City to come to this cold border to guard the gate for me, just to see me make a fool of myself?"

Castian's gaze fell on the pile of battle reports, but he didn't reply.

Without waiting for his reply, Yasol raised his hand and flipped open the top few parchments, still stained with blood, his voice gradually lowering.

"This year's Blood Moon Season is even more ruthless than the previous two years. The Blood Moon Conference has directly sent two Grand Duke-level Blood Clan over."

One man breached the Eastern Mist Ridge Defense Line, while the other, leading his Bloodline Guards, charged straight for the central Main Fortress.

The halo surrounding the Main Sacred Flame Tower shrank back three times during those few nights.

The firelight flickered slightly, making the scars on Yasol's face and Castian's wrinkles appear even deeper.

"In order to drive those two things back, the Tear Knight Defense Line poured in all the forces it could."

Of the twelve core fortresses on the Tear Knight Defense Line, three were destroyed this season; nearly a third of the three hundred and twelve Long Night Fief collapsed; the Holy Silver reserves were almost depleted; twenty percent of the Mobile Holy Knight were lost; and even the Tear Drop Knights had to be redeployed more than three hundred men.

He paused here, shook his head, and said, "We withstood the mountain of corpses and the Sacred Flame oil, forcing them back into the Gray Fog little by little."

If the Blood Moon Season had ended in another half month, the people sitting in this room now would be Blood Clan.

Castian raised his grey-blue eyes and looked directly at his old friend.

"If it weren't for the Governor, who personally took up his gun and fought to the death, the defensive line would have been completely torn apart by those bastards from the Blood Moon Conference long ago."

"Blood is being shed on the front lines, while knives are being handed to you from behind. Those people in the Holy City have abandoned even the most basic principles in their attempt to remove you from this position."

"I'll catch those rats." Yasol chuckled and took another gulp of strong liquor.

A brief silence fell over the study, with only the flickering firelight from the fireplace casting shadows on their faces.

For the entire Tear Knight Defense Line, this victory held during the Blood Moon Season was never a relief; it was a Pyrrhic victory.

The massive battle damage, the depleted reserves, and the last deliberately blocked supply route within the Holy City tightened around the neck of this steel fortress like a noose.

Castian picked up the iron cup in front of him and downed the strong, pungent liquor in one gulp.

"Let's change the subject," Yasol said, turning his gaze from the pile of blood-soaked battle reports to a secret letter on the corner of the table.

"In these letters you've written, you've praised this young man named Shien far too highly. I've never seen you praise anyone like that before. Is he your illegitimate son?"

Castian, you'd better make yourself clear to my face. How much of what you said was just empty boasting to promote a younger generation?

Upon hearing this, Castian slowly put down the iron cup in his hand, his back straightening instantly.

He did not avoid the Governor's scrutinizing gaze, locking his eyes directly on Yasol: "Every word in the letter was seen with my own eyes, and there is no exaggeration whatsoever."

At first, I just thought this kid was bold and quick-witted, but the more I saw into him, the more I realized I hadn't seen through him. You think he's used up all his skills, but he can always pull out another one next time."

You could even say he saved the entire Graymist Defense Zone, and I just benefited from his success.

Yasol didn't interrupt, but simply held his drink, a hint of interest finally appearing in his eyes.

Castian paused for a moment, and seeing that the other party did not reply, he continued, "Yasol, throwing such a young man into that kind of border defense line where he only cares about fighting with low-level Magic Creature every day is just wasting his life."

He shouldn't just guard a small, easily lost piece of land; he should stand behind the Sand Table in the Governor's Mansion.

If you personally train him, he will definitely become a pillar of the Tear Knight Defense Line in less than ten years.

Yasol's gaze pierced through the dense array of outpost coordinates, finally settling on the edge marked crudely by red mud— the Graymist Defense Zone.

"I have never seen you praise anyone so highly, a fourteen-year-old boy—now that he has come to my city, I will first test this sword myself and see if its edge is as sharp as you say."

Yasol paused, then his gaze returned to Castian's face. "As for where he should sit—we'll decide after I've seen him."