Chapter Thirty: The Beginning of the King's Selection

“How could this be?” The tall man in black sounded puzzled. The spirit of his target had abruptly vanished from the Inner World. He had encountered such situations before, but only with those of the highest rank—saints, sixth-tier professionals, and the like—individuals of peerless strength who could, by some means, conceal their spiritual traces in the Inner World.

Yet the ones before him were little more than insects, none having even reached the first tier of transcendence, and all had disappeared from the Inner World without leaving a trace.

The other figures in black, of varying heights, exchanged confused glances.

“Could they have used a holy relic or a royal artifact?” one of them suggested.

They had been watching their targets closely—a group of novices, with only the knight and the elf standing out as somewhat peculiar. Even though their master had refrained from unleashing his full might for fear of alerting the Church, these foes should not have been able to resist.

That left only one explanation: their enemies must possess an artifact that shields against spiritual assaults. To so thoroughly hide one’s spirit, it had to be a royal artifact, or at the very least a holy relic.

The tall figure mused for a moment, then said, “I sensed the aura of night—it must be some sort of holy relic.”

“A holy relic infused with the power of night? Could it be a Nightwatcher of the Night Church? But this is a barren land near the Death Marsh—how could a high-ranking member of the Night Church be here?” another black-clad figure wondered aloud.

Their boldness in operating here stemmed from the utter lack of resources and transcendents. There wasn’t a single high-tier transcendent in the region; even Count Dyna, the most powerful local, was little more than a self-taught adept.

“Our actions may have been exposed. We should withdraw for now,” the tall figure decided.

The others nodded in agreement. It was unlikely a Nightwatcher was truly present, but caution was warranted; if those mad dogs caught their scent, they would be forced to flee and hide for another decade or more.

With a wave of the tall figure’s hand, boundless darkness swept over them, swallowing all, and then faded away.

…

Orlina Territory.

After returning the stricken vanguard to Genlue, it was only a few minutes before an army medic stepped out from behind the door.

He gave a brief report on the soldier’s condition: the abnormal coma persisted, but the glow on the man’s forehead had faded.

Upon learning that the second wave of the enemy’s assault had been lifted, Qin Le felt a subtle sense of relief, though he remained vigilant.

This, after all, was only a temporary reprieve. They could not retreat to Genlue every time they were struck by some unknown spiritual attack, nor could they expect all assaults to be so conveniently handled. Genlue needed to bolster its own transcendent strength, and quickly.

The elf lady beside him, upon hearing the outcome, was shaken to her core.

“There’s no Inner World where the higher humans reside?”

No one truly knew what the Inner World was; it was an uncanny, bizarre realm where logic did not apply, where anything could happen, where nothing followed the normal order of things—a disjointed dream, the shadow of all living souls.

Yet the world of the higher humans seemed devoid of this realm, as if man had no shadow.

“Or perhaps the higher humans have used some means to block it, sealing off the entire Inner World, much like the sacred domains of the Church,” Aimeia thought, suppressing her doubts. She kept her expression calm as she said, “Whether they survive now depends entirely on their own will. There’s nothing more I can do here. I’ll return to check on Orlina.”

Qin Le gave a slight nod.

Aimeia stepped back, turned, and walked out of the tent, her figure vanishing into the night.

The soldiers on guard nearby stared in astonishment, while a deeper gloom settled over Qin Le’s heart.

All that had come before—the so-called mightiest knight of the land rendered vulnerable before firearms, the green devils powerless beneath artillery fire—had fostered an illusion in Genlue’s ranks. They believed this world, for all its wonders, was not truly dangerous. Today’s events had dealt them a harsh rebuke.

Tactically, they remained vigilant and cautious, but their mindset had grown complacent.

This world was perilous. Modern military power could ensure only overt safety, and could do nothing to counter threats lurking in the shadows.

Just then, figures began to emerge from the portal—Falcon, supported by the medics, among them.

Seeing his old comrade unharmed, Qin Le breathed a little easier and asked with concern, “Are you alright?”

Falcon’s face was pale, her usual cold expression gone, replaced by a touch of feminine vulnerability in her finely sculpted features.

Shrugging off the medics, she staggered a few steps, then suddenly gripped Qin Le’s shoulder with a calloused, trembling hand.

“Captain, I killed... them.” Her forehead pressed against Qin Le’s chest, and her voice shook.

“It was me, I killed her.”

Qin Le was silent for several seconds, then gently patted the girl who had been forged by war and stained with blood. He offered a reassuring smile. “No, you were carrying out your orders. You had to do it.”

“But just now… I killed her again,” Falcon murmured, as if she hadn’t heard him.

A few minutes later, the rest of the vanguards, including Ironfist, returned from the portal to the New World.

None were injured or dead, but their expressions were grim. Nothing had rattled them so since leaving the training base.

“What are you standing around for? Do you want me to give you a head pat for comfort?”

Qin Le’s voice broke through their anger.

Hammer, rubbing his smooth head, grinned sheepishly. “Heh, I’m a grown man—how could I act like a woman…”

Before he finished, Falcon shot him a frosty glare.

Ironfist wisely shut his mouth. If he said another word, the girl would drag him into a fight.

“Haha, Ironfist’s chickened out!”

“Chickened out? This is called being a gentleman!” Ironfist raised his fist, the size of a sandbag, and glared at his comrades, as if daring anyone to challenge him to a wrestling match.

Fishhead covered his face. “The word is ‘gentlemanly.’”

“Yeah, that’s it, something like that.”

Ironfist’s goofy antics drew laughter from the vanguards and the medics alike.

There is safety in numbers—Ironfist’s mighty fists were useless for the moment.

Qin Le’s eyes grew cold. Such attacks were truly revolting.

He could only hope that, one day, endless artillery would put an end to such filth.

…

Dawn City, Royal Palace.

The King of Dawn sat upon his throne, his face ashen, coughing from time to time.

Sir Mark, Captain of the Royal Knights, stepped forward. “Your Majesty, today the Hunters’ Guild in the capital received a call for aid from their branch in Dyna’s domain. The green devils are massacring civilians to summon demons. We cannot delay any longer. Please, allow me to lead the knights to eradicate this green devil scourge before it grows out of control.”

Sir Mark had argued for swift action since the outbreak began, hoping to nip the disaster in the bud. The King, however, had refused, wanting to suppress Count Dyna instead.

Now, with urgent news from the east: the green devils were summoning demons. Mark could sit idle no longer. Communication took time; it would take at least two days for word to reach the capital from the easternmost border. In those two days, who knew how many demons the devils might summon?

The King shook his head. “We must wait for imperial reinforcements. Even if we succeed alone, we would pay a terrible price, and the other lords would not hesitate to strike while we are weakened.”

He was old and ill, the lords were powerful, and his own children were disloyal. If anything befell the Royal Knights, the Kingdom of Dawn would not survive.

“But Your Majesty, by the time reinforcements arrive, the green devils may have devoured half the realm,” Mark pressed.

The King’s gaze turned icy. “Then let them. They can help me rid the land of those traitorous nobles.”

Mark opened his mouth but could find nothing to say. He no longer understood his king.

Suddenly, the air shimmered, and a figure emerged from the shadows behind the throne.

A man clad in black leather and an iron mask—a rare third-tier elite of the kingdom, an assassin, a fourth-tier Shadow Master.

“Your Majesty,” the Shadow Guard said with a slight bow.

The King coughed and asked, “What is it?”

“The Shadow Guard sent to investigate has just reported—the green devil disaster is over.”

Both the King and the Captain of the Knights stared in disbelief, wondering if they had misheard.

The green devil blight, resolved so easily? According to intelligence from the Hunters’ Guild and the Shadow Guard, the green devil king had likely been hiding in a stone cavern deep within the Death Marsh, surrounded by elite warriors.

To slay the king would require a suicidal assault, fighting through hordes of devils, unless they used a royal artifact to cleave the mountain itself.

That was why the Kingdom of Dawn had not acted. In his frail state, the King could not unleash the full power of the Dawn Sword; swinging it once might be the death of him.

But now, the blight was quelled, the green devil king slain in just a few days!

“Who did this? Was it the Empire’s Twelve Apostles, a dragon, or Victoria’s magic army?” the King wondered.

But the timing was off—the news would have only just reached the Empire. Even with immediate mobilization, none could have arrived so soon.

“It was Princess Orlina, or rather, the higher humans working with her. They wielded strange weapons and razed the green devils’ stronghold to the ground in mere minutes.”

“Impossible!” The King’s jaw dropped in disbelief, suspecting the Shadow Guard was lying, but then he remembered the mysterious nature of these people.

A fit of coughing overtook him, more violent than before, and blood spattered from his lips.

“Your Majesty!” Mark rushed forward.

“Go… bring Orlina back at once. Prepare… for the royal selection,” the King gasped.