Chapter 170:

Natalie led the remaining 50 high-ranking hunters of the White Oak Battalion along the predetermined route, launching an assault on the encirclement around Circle Tower ahead. Admittedly, it was quite embarrassing. Despite being the highest-ranking battalion commander, Natalie’s personal strength was basically at the lower-middle level among these 50 individuals. During the previous meeting, the elder Eugene, Grandma Marianne, and several other veteran captains who had argued with her were all silver-rank Oak Hunters or Oak Sages. They had actually already qualified to become reserve White Knights. If it weren’t for the collapse of the Avalon Church, these veteran hunters should have returned to the Glamo holy land to prepare for their Holy Grail ceremony. Even more regrettable was that both the Avalon Holy Statue and the Sacred Grail of Nature had been lost during the church’s decade-long chaos, essentially heralding a terrifying discontinuity in the advanced profession system of the Witch Hunters. Under such circumstances, Natalie’s mere possession of the Great Oak Sacred Blade was enough to make her the undisputed leader of this group of Witch Hunter Grandmasters! This sword, rumored to have a rather unsavory history, was now their only remaining sacred relic. “Little Natalie, if you can survive this battle, hurry and work on enhancing your natural resonance with the sacred blade. With your current compatibility, you can’t even bring out one-tenth of its power,” the veteran Oak Hunter Eugene whispered a reminder as he rode beside Natalie on his horse. “But this is a lengthy process, no need to rush. The two blades your father left you also have some pedigree. Don’t disgrace these two demon-slaying weapons.” “Are you leaving your last testament? What’s wrong? Don’t want to live anymore?” Grandma Marianne chimed in mockingly from the other side as she tugged at her cowboy-like hunting hat. This nearly sixty-year-old grandma had a bandolier slung across her chest, two black handguns holstered at her waist ready to draw, and a double-barreled hunting rifle on her back. She kept a sharp eye on their surroundings, her pupils now tinged with emerald green, evidently using an advanced scouting spell. She and old Eugene had known each other since their youth, but their habit of bickering whenever they met had stubbornly persisted. She now taunted him mercilessly, “Don’t we already know the reasoning of ‘a scourge that lives for a thousand years’? Any of us could die in this battle, but you, you crazy one, will most likely survive.” The other veteran hunters let out low chuckles, and even the younger hunters like Natalie couldn’t help but grin, dissipating the “going to die” atmosphere in the squad, at least momentarily. This would have been unimaginable in the past, as the original Witch Hunter Battalion had been a highly regimented military organization, with the Avalon Church training them in a military fashion. However, the Ten-Year War had destroyed everything, and the surviving witch hunters had long since abandoned the strict rules that once bound them. They had learned to seize any opportunity to indulge themselves in these cruel times. Often, losing one’s purpose was an even more distressing feeling than suffering. “None of us will die here! No one will die here!” Natalie’s lips curved into a slight smile, but she quickly proclaimed solemnly, “We will break through, no matter what lies ahead. We will restart our lives on that unfamiliar land before us! Either we all survive together or we all make our final offering here to the god of Avalon!” The squad fell silent for a moment, then the younger members loudly responded, drawing courage from the sight of the Oak Sacred Blade on Natalie’s back. At the same time, however, the veteran hunters observed Natalie herself. They all knew that when this child was born, the Elder Council of Glamo had made a prophecy about her, foretelling that Natalie Finochia Lawson would become a true leader. Before tonight, it wasn’t easy to discern the true direction of that prophecy, but after tonight, it might just enter the realization phase. “Still a bit immature, reckless and stubborn, not good traits,” old Eugene sighed softly. “You could perhaps put it another way: she has boundless potential, immense courage, and sufficient resolve!” Grandma Marianne retorted as she drew the double-barreled hunting rifle from her back, imbuing it with a nature spirit spell that caused emerald runes to spread beautifully across the black barrel. While taking aim, she murmured, “Aren’t those the necessary traits of a legendary leader? As long as she survives tonight, she will ignite and shine her own light. Enemies ahead! Prepare for battle!” At the grandma hunter’s warning, the Witch Hunters in the squad immediately scattered, relying on their excellent riding skills. Various blades were unsheathed, hunting crossbows readied. Natalie intended to draw the twin blades at her waist but hesitated, ultimately grasping the silent Great Oak Blade on her back and pulling it out of its scabbard. Imitating how her father had used this sword on horseback, she held it lowered beside her fiery red warhorse. This purebred elf steed, having bathed in the same Holy Grail oath as old Finoch, silently and obediently carried its new rider. Natalie knew this pure-blooded elf warhorse with a beautiful mane had a lovely name: “Maple Leaf.” “Blade Guardian! Excellent! It’s for this that I’ve come,” the mage Beryl, serving as the commander, exclaimed excitedly upon seeing the sacred blade. Floating high in the night sky, she cradled a spell-shaping tome in one hand and gripped a punishing staff like a torch in the other, coldly gazing down at Natalie ahead of the hunters. “White Oak Battalion! In the name of a Circle Tower Shaper Grandmaster, I decree that you have been tainted by extraspatial filth! Immediately lay down your weapons and return with us to White Cliffs for investigation. If you are innocent, then you may proceed with an open heart. But if you persist in your obstinance, the force of retribution shall rain down upon you! Final warning! Lay down your—” “Bang.” The low gunshot represented the Witch Hunters’ response. Grandma Marianne’s bullet flew out, blowing off the head of the deputy commander beside the elite Spirit Hunter battalion leader guarding the Spirit Mages. This already exceeded the extreme firing range of her hunting rifle, clearly enhanced by nature spirit techniques that not only extended the range but also amplified its power. Amidst the splatter of blood, this dashing female hunter impassively raised her black face-veil to cover her nose and mouth, revealing only a pair of eyes that, though aged, remained as sharp as a hawk’s. Time had indeed stolen her youth, but in exchange, it had given her an unwavering courage and extraordinary precision honed by years. Over the past decade, it was the Circle Tower before them that had repeatedly thrown the Witch Hunters into the cruelest of wars, consuming them. Perhaps the Witch Hunters should not blame such cold-bloodedness, for without the Circle Tower’s protection ten years ago, the White Oak Battalion would have been sent to the guillotine in batches like the other old factions by the enraged King Louis. They could endure the harsh toil of atoning for sins, but this blatant attempt to discard them like used beasts had crossed the Witch Hunters’ bottom line. The so-called debt of protection owed to the Circle Tower had already been repaid by the White Oak Battalion’s decade of bitter warfare and the burial of seven thousand comrades! The blood they had shed was enough to wash away sins they did not bear! Although Andrei had been badly beaten by Murphy before, in this current battle, wielding the Frostfang blade, he merely had to exhale lightly to unleash the ice-binding power of a Frost Spirit Swordsman, instantly freezing five Spirit Apprentices who failed to evade in time. In the next frozen moment, three of them lost their heads to his swinging cold blades. Their blood could not even spill! It could only fall to the ground as a bizarre, blood-red icy sand, only to be trampled everywhere by the warhorses of the Witch Hunters who subsequently breached the Bulwark spells. As for why Andrei, whose equipment had been confiscated by Murphy, now wielded an identical Frostfang blade— Well, as the queen’s brother, a legitimate member of the royal family sent as a hostage into the Thorn Clan, it was only natural for him to acquire a few formidable weapons as his remorseful sister’s atonement, no? If Lady Femis was considered a minor wealthy lady, then in the realm of “wealth”, Count Andrei was probably the kind of deep-sea leviathan whose appearance would always startle people. “Swish.” As the cold blade swung down, two Spirit Hunters attempting to guard the dignitary fell slantwise. Donning his battle mask, the Count of White Mountain made a challenging gesture toward the high-ranking Spirit Mage who had just recovered from the “Ignite Emotions” spell. He said coldly, “Andrei Alexei Torrez! Thorn Clan White Mountain grand duke faction! Descendant of Shani!” As a high-ranking Spirit Mage, the challenged opponent naturally knew this was the vampires’ eternal duel oath, but what enraged him was this black iron-rank vampire’s audacity to challenge a silver-rank caster like himself. Even though Shani had just ignited his emotions, and Grandma Marianne’s bullet had struck his chest, were the vampires really this arrogant now? The Circle Tower had only just exterminated an entire vampire clan! Bastards! Show some respect! “You dare be so enraged before our Thorn Clan?” Andrei said in astonishment, then decisively used his clan’s special ability again, igniting the emotions of the mage before him, causing the latter excruciating agony that made him grit his teeth and nearly collapse. The Count of White Mountain pressed his sword attack! He knew he would have to pay a price to take down this far superior enemy. This was not a favorable hunting target, but he knew he had to do it! He had already heard about Murphy’s rise from those foul-mouthed little players, and had even witnessed Murphy feeding a silver vampire’s heart to a dog. He did not truly crave a victory of the weak over the strong, he merely wanted to prove himself no lesser than his “peers” before his ancestors! Nothing more! But Shani had no time to pay heed to her defiant descendant, for she was rather preoccupied at the moment. “Puff.” Crimson blades lightly grazed Beryl the mage’s left arm, the keen spirit blade precisely severing this caster’s tendons in an elegant, lethal stroke reminiscent of a scalpel. The Thorn grand duchess paid no mind to this Circle Tower Spirit Mage’s struggles, viewing her as mere “appetizer” for this midnight feast. The gap in their absolute strengths was far too great, allowing Shani to fully savor the loser’s terror and humiliate her! Best of all, any retaliation would only target the Blood Vulture Clan that had openly provoked them. Tsk tsk, what a fortunate night indeed. Thanks to the Night Mother’s blessings! “Two Black Night Wars, the slaughter of the Blood Dread Clan, the expulsion of the Wolfsbane Clan, the retaliation against the Blood Vulture Clan! You seem to have kept winning, allowing the Circle Tower’s oppression to trample upon the vampire clans’ heads, rising ever higher. You arrogantly believed the midnight kin were no more than this, but the harsh reality is...” “Puff.” Five piercing fingers like blades. In a ghostly onslaught, she sliced open Beryl’s abdomen, neck, dyeing her white robe crimson with her own blood. Then, in an almost impossible motion, she severed a third of the mage’s tongue, preventing her from intoning even a single spirit glyph. Yet Shani’s long dress remained unstained by a single drop of fresh blood. With a sweep of her left claw-blade, the high-ranking Spirit Mage’s scalp was cleanly sliced off. This was not combat, this was an executioner’s torture-killing! The Thorn grand duchess’s long dress floated and danced in the night, pinning the now blood-drenched Beryl with one hand. Seeing the loathing and fury in her victim’s eyes, Shani revealed a gentle smile befitting a courtly noble lady. As if savoring the hatred before her like an afternoon tea. She said softly, “The fact is, the midnight clans have never truly been defeated by you! Tonight, I am honored to join the Blood Vulture Grand Duchess and Count Murphy in returning to you what you have forgotten. You’re afraid now... It seems you’ve remembered. Heh, you cattle should understand your true place in this world! Tonight, welcome back to the bottom of the food chain!” “Crack.” The snapping of a spine, a headless corpse crashing to the ground. Holding the dripping severed head, Shani brushed away the hot blood spattered on her cheek, then brought it to her lips for a delicate sip. “Mmm, steeped in the blood of terror, forever so delicious.”