Chapter 123: The Night's Response

At the summit of the mountain range, the onlookers gradually withdrew their gazes, their expressions varied—some calm, some amazed, some solemn. Among them, the purple-haired girl was the happiest.

Most were filled with wonder and disbelief. Having lived for so many years, this was the first time they had witnessed such a scene.

A group of ordinary people without any supernatural powers was outright crushing an extraordinary knight order. Although the knight order was somewhat diluted—with most being apprentice knights and only a few fully-fledged knights—it was undeniably a military formation capable of battle.

Yet this entire force was utterly powerless against a group of ordinary people, completely trampled beneath their feet. They barely withstood half an hour before being nearly wiped out.

This war between ordinary humans and the extraordinary knights ended in a one-sided rout, a wholly lopsided conflict. Or rather, it wasn’t a war at all, but a unilateral massacre.

“What exactly is that thing? It has no spiritual essence, clearly just a heap of ordinary iron, yet it unleashes such tremendous power,” murmured the elven maiden, her exquisite brow furrowed in puzzlement, her flawless face full of confusion.

The mysterious nation called Xuanlu could possess any kind of power without surprising her; she even thought such power was to be expected. Yet the weapons wielded by these people exceeded her imagination, leaving her reluctant to believe it.

Lifeless iron without any spiritual essence wielding such immense might shattered the knowledge she had accumulated over a millennium.

How could a soulless, inanimate object possibly unleash the force of an advanced Fireball spell?

A dragonborn with shimmering silver scales spoke in a slightly hoarse voice: “These strange steel creations have an extremely long attack range—at least a hundred thousand paces. Judging by the arc of their trajectory, they can reach even further—one hundred fifty thousand... two hundred thousand paces.”

Merely from the battle they had just witnessed, the dragonborn estimated the approximate range of the cannons. After all, the cannon attacks were too direct and obvious; watching a few times allowed one to roughly calculate their range—though this was mainly feasible only for top-tier supernatural experts like themselves.

Those who hadn’t reached their level could only endure the blows passively.

“The last attack reached the level of my dragon’s breath, and their flames are peculiar—they consume the surrounding air,” he continued.

The more he pondered the bombardment he had seen, the stranger it seemed.

“That’s all,” the giant shook his head. “Such an attack can’t even pierce my skin. Even if amplified dozens of times over, it would only be somewhat troublesome. After all, they are just ordinary people. As long as those steel constructs are destroyed, they lose their strength.”

The dragonborn nodded in agreement: “Indeed, if there is only power without matching defense, it ultimately becomes a weakness. Those steel creations must be extremely precious; destroying them should suffice.”

“Alright, alright, enough of this nonsense—you talk as if you’re brave enough to fight them,” an untimely voice interrupted their discussion.

The purple-haired girl’s youthful face broke into a broad smile: “Haha! I won the bet just now! Hurry, hurry, pay up! Finally, food for the next few days is settled.”

“You’re all bigshots, surely you wouldn’t just hand over money so casually? Right? Right?” With that, Tianxing stretched out her hands.

The others tugged at their lips, somewhat speechless. This generation of Imperial Compass wielders was as eccentric as ever.

A formidable warrior bearing royal artifacts, yet still worrying about food?

“Tianxing, you should be more wary of those steel constructs,” the elf Illyeka warned. “These weapons grant ordinary humans powers comparable to supernatural beings.”

“Isn’t that even better? Humans are numerous. With such weapons, maybe we can take your territories,” Tianxing said, playfully clenching her fists at the others.

“Heh heh, that may be so, but before that, you should worry about yourselves,” Illyeka chuckled softly, not offended by the remark.

“Don’t you agree, esteemed wandering mage of the Hunter’s Guild?” Illyeka fixed her gaze on the elderly man in workman’s attire, her eyes laden with meaning.

“In my memory, this has happened three times already, the last one over a hundred years ago. It should be soon again,” he replied.

Every three centuries or so, strange and intriguing events erupt within the human race. In recent centuries, the frequency has increased, and all three recent incidents were incited by hunters from the Hunter’s Guild.

The wandering mage recalled this with slight embarrassment, clearing his throat twice: “You can’t blame the Guild for this. Those who caused trouble had already formally resigned from the Guild. Besides, our Guild is essentially a mercenary organization; we can’t control members who leave.”

He then changed the subject: “Since your entertainment is over, shall we be on our way?”

“Indeed, it’s time to go,” Illyeka said, glancing down at the group of black-haired humans below the mountain. A crimson banner fluttered atop the castle, waving proudly in the wind.

She mounted her seven-colored deer and gradually rode away, her figure blurring until she vanished beyond the horizon, leaving a single phrase drifting in the air:

“There has been turmoil in the Abyss lately. I hope the Hunter’s Guild keeps a close watch on their strong members and prevents further disturbances—for at least the next ten years.”

“Hey! Where’s my wager?” Tianxin, sensing trouble, attempted to give chase, but at that moment, a small cloth bag suddenly appeared before her.

The girl caught the bag and slowly opened it. A fragrant aroma wafted out, revealing a single jade-green fruit inside, its surface visibly imbued with spiritual energy.

Tianxing’s eyes lit up with joy as she turned to the other two and asked in a clear voice, “What about yours?”

The dragonborn plucked a thumb-sized scale from his body, while the giant produced an oval glass bead with a drop of blood flowing within its core.

Having honorably paid their wagers, the two top-tier warriors departed one after another without lingering.

Just as they had said at the start—they were merely passing by, merely observing, and would not meddle further.

Now, only four remained at the mountain’s peak: the purple-haired girl Tianxin; the wandering mage; Roy; and Starry Night Fate, clad in a celestial robe.

Starry Night Fate turned and began to walk through the air, stepping forward step by step, his form gradually becoming indistinct.

Ma Chelun quickly sealed the space, forcing the figure to reappear, and said, “Chosen one, may I ask you something?”

Starry Night Fate slowly turned his head. His voice was androgynous, impossible to discern male or female: “Speak.”

“May I ask, what is the oracle of Lady Night?” Ma Chelun inquired.

Lady Night was the most mysterious deity, the one closest to the tangible world. Her will was crucial.

Starry Night Fate was silent for a few seconds; the silver-white mask concealed any expression.

“The deity says: existence is justification. All things have their reason for being; their arrival has its purpose. No resistance is necessary, no concern required. All is as it should be.”

In other words, don’t interfere—treat them like ordinary people? Lady Night was as inclusive as ever.

Ma Chelun continued, “Then what do you think of these people? Their ideals and actions—might they cause great upheaval? I fear it could affect the Abyss.”

“I have no opinion. Matters of the mundane world do not fall under the Night Church’s jurisdiction. Our duty is to watch over living beings, not to govern them.”

With that, Starry Night Fate suddenly vanished, disregarding the sealed space.

“Black-haired humans are living beings as well. Night will watch over them too.”