"You guys, look over there." The voice of the Knight commander sounded somewhat worried. "The others, follow me."
The Bishop of God of the Church had given him his final order: either find the murderer of the Red-robed bishop within three days, or go to see him with his knight's medal. For a knight, the medal symbolizing his status is nothing but his own - including his life.
The knight, clad in white armor and riding on high horsemen, scattered through the mountain hollow, searching everywhere for dilapidated houses and all the grass and depressions that could hide the human body.
"Damn it, you must find it." The Knight's gaze drifted slowly through the narrow hole in his helmet and scattered through the mountain hollow. He certainly did not want to hand over the knightly medal he had painstakingly obtained, unless he gave up his life first.
"Be more careful with me!" The Knightly slapping the snow-white warhorse beneath him, the white horse swallowing the grass chewed in its mouth, standing up with a long hissing. Then the white horse, led by its master, galloped out of the mountain hollow, followed by three other warhorses. The sound of hooves reverberated through the valley, with a hint of restlessness.
Three days, only three days.
The knight's sweat, sandwiched between the skin and the stiff armor, coerced the weary body. But the knight could not complain in the slightest. God needs them, the church needs them. They need to find the murderer who disrupts the peace of the church and bring him to justice.
When the church entrusted the task to the knights, all the knights, who usually only patrolled, secretly rejoiced. They pretended to remember the dead bishop on the surface, but in their hearts they thought they would be richly rewarded if they had accomplished this mission.
But they all overlooked one problem.
Only the Knight commander remained cautious.
When the body of the red-robed bishop was found in the church hall, the church did its best to prevent the news from spreading. But the human mouth ignored all resistance, and in just half a day the news of the Red Robe bishop's assassination spread, even to the surrounding cities.
At that time, the order was entrusted with the task of finding the murderer by the high church. Later, under the arrangement of the Church, the master of the order secretly examined the body of the red-robed bishop. To his surprise, the red-robed bishop had only one fatal wound on his body. The tiny, needle-like wound pierced through the heart. The priest who led him in examining the bishop's body said that the Red Robe bishop was influential in the church and that his magical powers were hard to match in the church.
This is the concern of Commendatore. Judging from the wound, the murderer killed the bishop in an instant with just one move. And for his own horde, if they really encountered the murderer, could they take down the criminal? If they must catch the murderer, how much sacrifice will they have to make?
The regimental commander tossed about on horseback, his right hand quietly placed on his chest, and silently prayed, "God, please protect your subjects."
The rumble of the knight's search spread out in the low hollow, and now and then flocks of birds flapped their wings in terror and flew far and high. The cold long sword cuts through the tangled vines, and the hooves leave countless ugly scars on the grass.
"I need to rest." The regimental commander said in his heart, but he knew he couldn't now. He had been running around for two days and two nights in order to complete the mission. He changed four exhausted horses in between. He couldn't rest. The mission was too important for him.
"Bastard, I'm going to catch you myself." He couldn't help cursing.
"What, Commander?" A knight came closer.
"Nothing." The regimental commander shook his head and said to the three knights beside him, "You guys, go over there first. Look carefully, look carefully." He pointed east with his left hand.
One of the knights said, "Commander, we must leave at least one person to keep you safe."
The commander gave a wry smile and said, "Be careful and find out the murderer. That would be the greatest protection for me. Go ahead, be careful, you must be careful." He kept repeating the word "careful."
The three knights nodded and, slapping their warhorses, headed eastward into the thick forest. Their figures quickly vanished into the bushes. Even the sound was drowned out by the jungle.
The regimental commander rode his horse westward alone. He wanted to know the search results of another group of knights.
"Really a headache." He said.
A picture kept repeating in his mind. The black-clad criminal, with just one move, pierced the chest of the highly magical red-roiled bishop with a magic lightsaber from his fingertips. And the bishop's magic just leapt onto the palm. Thinking, cold sweat slid into the gaps between the armor and the body.
Pulling the REINS a little tighter, the white horse slowed down.
Heading west, it was the exit of the mountain pass, and the only exit. The fiery red light of the setting sun slanted down from the front, covering his body, and his silver-white armor seemed to burst into flames in an instant.
It was evening again. There are still two days left.
"Bastard!" " The leader couldn't help cursing.
The horse climbed up the winding path on the slope, and the sun was setting a little lower.
There are only two days left. The commander clenched the hilt of the long sword that hung around his waist.
"Excuse me, how do I get to Wangshen City?" A sudden voice startled not only the Knightly commander but his horse.
The rider looked to the right, too nervous he didn't even notice a young man sitting on the big rock to his right. The regimental commander frowned and sized up the man. He had long, pure white hair, untidy and tied up at the back of his head. His unremarkable plain clothes looked slightly old and smeared with mud.
A very ordinary person. He thought.
His arm was raised feebly, pointing south. "Walk along the road and you should be able to enter the city before dark."
"Thanks." The young man stood up, nodded gratefully to the regimental commander, went around the warhorse and headed south.
The knight wanted to go on with his business, but suddenly noticed a red, glowing object around the man's waist. He turned his head and saw a sword, dyed red by the setting sun. He knew that it was normal for ordinary people to carry swords according to the current law and fashion.
"An ordinary person." He said to himself. Perhaps, he was under too much pressure.
"Ordinary people, just ordinary people." He talks to himself to relieve stress.
"Ordinary people? No, not just an ordinary person, he can be an assassin too." The knight's mouth curved up in a strange curve. He knew that once he had done what he was supposed to do, he could rest. The sword slipped out of its sheath quietly. The knight held the sword in his right hand and carried it behind his back.
"Go, God will forgive you. When the murderer is caught, all brothers can rest, and your own medal can be kept with you. Maybe there will be a lot of rewards." After telling himself this, he pulled the REINS with his left hand and followed the young man.
"Young man, wait a moment."
Hearing the sound, the man stopped, turned around and looked somewhat puzzled at the rider who was charging towards him. As if to ask, are you calling me?
The warhorse stopped close to the man and turned sideways to him. The knight nodded slightly and said to the man, "Young man, do you remember what you did in Wangshen City a few days ago?"
The man was even more puzzled. "What?" A few days ago in Wangshen City? I think you must have mistaken me. I'm going to the city of the gods right now, and it's the first time in my life."
The knight still wore a sinister smile, of course the man couldn't see it. The rider thought, of course I have mistaken him. Wouldn't it be better to have made a mistake?
He looked at the man carefully, silently estimating. Perhaps he could defeat him in just half a minute, or even less. Kill him, then hand over the body to the church and say that he is the murderer. It may be a bit abrupt to do so, but it's better than going head-to-head with the real murderer.
"I say, you're mistaken." Seeing that the knight did not speak, the man added another. He did not know that a conspiracy was being planned in his heart.
"Yes, I'm mistaken. But since I met you..."
Before the second half of the words could be spoken, the right hand behind his back suddenly slashed, and the long sword left a blood-red afterimage in the air.
"... You're unlucky." The knight said somewhat smugly. The man's reaction was obviously slower than he had expected, and he did not consciously dodge until the sword was close to his throat.
"For... Why... The man said.
The knight looked at the man in astonishment, thinking there must have been a long wound on his throat, but he was miraculously unharmed. There was only a bundle of silvery hair that drifted away slowly.
How did he avoid it?
I don't know.
The long sword fluttered, cutting out several long, blood-red crescent moons. The man stepped back a long distance, growing increasingly angry. "Why did you kill me?" he asked loudly.
"Because you deserve to die! The long sword left no room for the opponent, but the opponent escaped again and again.
"Don't force me to strike." The man said, and another strand of hair was cut off by the blade.
The knight's breath became a little hurried. I thought I could kill my opponent in half a minute, but after a minute, only two strands of hair were cut. The haughty knight was somewhat exasperated, but the sword in his hand did not cease.
"I told you not to push me!" The man almost roared. At the same time, the sword at his waist was drawn, drawing a deep, low murmur. The blade moved, leaving behind the shadows of several swords in the path of movement.
The blood was carried out by the sword and spilled in the air.
The knight took a few steps back in control of his warhorse, for the armor at his waist had been cut by the man's sword. The skin beneath the armor was cut open, and blood slid down the smooth armor.
Who is he? How could he hurt me? The knight's hand, which held the sword, was covered with fine beads of sweat. He released the REINS with his left hand and took the round shield off the horse's back.
"Let's not fight, shall we?" The man said sincerely.
But his sincerity turned into provocation in the eyes of the usually haughty knight. The rider, with his legs clamped between his horse's belly, charged at the man. A burning pain from the wound on his waist turned into big drops of water on his forehead and slid into his eyes.
"You must die." The knight whispered.
As the horse approached the man, the knight raised his sword hand high. All the power was concentrated in his hands, intended to tear apart the young man in front of him.
Almost at the same time, the man who was aware of the danger leapt up, and the sword light streaked across the warhorse.
The ironware broke, and the remaining sound pricked the eardrums.
The man fell behind the horse, and the rider fell in front of him. The round shield split in two from the middle and fell at the man's feet. The sword in the man's hand was reduced to half, and the other half was inserted into the knight's left arm, with blood splattering from the blade.
"Who are you?" The knight roared in frustration. As the commander of the knights, he never thought he would lose to an ordinary man. And, he lost so miserably.
The man crouched down and stared into the knight's eyes. It was only then that the rider realized the man had a pair of pure white eyes. Pure and thorough white. Like the legendary ghost.
"You're bleeding." The man seemed not to know the knight's anger at the moment. "Go to the doctor and bandage it." Having said that, he stood up.
The rider's gaze fell on the man's waist, where there was a somewhat worn belt.
No, not just a belt. There was also a piece of stone stuffed in the belt. Black stone, oval, about the size of a palm. A word was engraved on the stone, which, though only partially exposed, the knight could still tell that it was the word "hide".
This is... The enemy of God, the sign of the devil!
The knight gritted his teeth, groped his right hand to grasp the long sword that had fallen to the ground, and swung it with all his might towards the man's waist.
The man suddenly turned around and, with the broken sword, pushed the long sword down, soaring high. Immediately after, the broken sword pierced the knight's neck. Blood mist gushed out, staining the man's hair and skin red.