Chapter Fifty-Five: A Fright (Part Two)

At dusk, that eerie, piercing wail finally ceased.

After three hours of relentless assault with various weapons, Xuan Lü had at last come to one conclusion: the so-called ghoul tree was not truly immortal or indestructible. While attacks lacking sacred properties could not inflict irreversible harm, the accumulation of injuries would inevitably weaken them. At least, the ghoul tree below, battered by artillery, white phosphorus bombs, and defoliants for hours on end, was now on the verge of death. Some of its wounds no longer healed.

Witnessing this, Xuan Lü halted the attack.

A living specimen was always the most valuable, especially one that had transformed from creature to plant.

Two helicopters hoisted a massive silver iron crate into the scorched slum, making their way to where the ghoul tree lay.

Aboard one helicopter, Mark, the heavily armored commander of the Knights, gazed down at the ghoul tree, his expression peculiar.

Today had broadened his horizons: these supposedly undying monsters could, in fact, be killed by means other than sacred weaponry. What mattered was the sheer number of wounds—they could be worn down to their very limits until their so-called immortality broke. Of course, only advanced humans possessed the strength to launch such a sustained assault; others lacked the means to continue such a barrage for hours.

Wen Bi, temporarily assigned for translation, said, “Commander Mark, due to the ghoul tree’s mental influence, it’s impossible for us to approach closely. Please help us secure it in the iron crate.”

The crate, three meters high and two meters wide, was forged from high-density composite metal, its interior lined with mithril. It had originally been built to capture a living ghoul, but was now urgently repurposed for the ghoul tree.

After the savage bombardment, the tree had been stripped layer by layer, leaving only its trunk and some roots—just enough to fit the crate.

“Are you sure you don’t want to kill it outright?” Mark asked. “Right now, it’s barely hanging on, but there’s no guarantee it won’t recover later.”

“That needn’t concern you. We have our methods to prevent its recovery,” Wen Bi replied.

Once this thing was transported back, to guard against a sudden resurgence of its psychic attacks, it would be sent to an uninhabited place, with only a handful of researchers to study it. Should anything go wrong, only a few lives would be lost, and they could handle it as they had today.

Of course, there were other risks, but the value of studying the specimen outweighed them. Once all precautions were in place, Xuan Lü would not abandon such research for the sake of some vague, unsolvable threat.

“Very well,” Mark said, shaking his head, deciding not to meddle in the affairs of these mysterious people.

If they could subdue a ghoul tree, surely they could restrain it.

Mark leapt from the helicopter, channeling his energy to his legs, landing with the force of a cannonball.

He frowned as he looked at the ghoul tree in the pit before him, repulsed by its unnatural aura. Lifting its charred form, he placed it into the crate, closed the lid as instructed, and stepped away.

The helicopter immediately ascended, carrying the iron crate bearing the ghoul tree back to the palace, where a prepared reception team transferred it through a portal to Xuan Lü.

...

With the most troublesome ghoul tree finally dispatched, the Royal Knights were free to quell the chaos within the city.

Their methods were simple, brutal, and effective: everyone was ordered to stay in place, and any who dared move were summarily executed. As for the fleeing crowds, the knights charged through on horseback, cutting down dozens or even hundreds until silence fell.

Once basic order was restored, the vanguard units took over, dividing the populace into groups and distributing food.

In the wake of this sudden catastrophe, the people were stricken with panic; food was the one thing that could restore a semblance of calm.

The outbreak of violence had been triggered when the Hunter Guild, relentlessly pressing their search, finally caught the enemy’s trail. The ghouls and ghoul trees were not the true adversaries—the real enemy was the cultists lurking in the shadows.

Their aim was clear: to use the chaos as cover, to escape or hide anew. To that end, the best tactic was to blend into the common crowd.

By now, it was clear their plan had succeeded. The uproar had distracted every faction; not a single cultist had been unmasked. The abrupt assault had also shifted attention away from the royal succession, focusing all eyes on the cultists, an enemy many had believed mere myth.

This attack had shaken them, caught them all off guard, preventing any unified response. But there would not be a next time.

...

Night fell upon Duke Carter’s estate.

One by one, elegantly dressed lords and nobles arrived under the escort of knights. Their usual poise had been replaced by grim, angry faces. The attack had nearly cost them their lives; indeed, only the total destruction of the cult could bring comfort.

Within the lavishly adorned hall, two grand chandeliers cast bright light over the oval table, where the lords were seated.

Each of them wielded extraordinary power—these were the ruling elite of the kingdom.

Seated at the table’s head, Duke Carter waited until all were present before speaking. “I believe none of us wish to see a repeat of today’s events. Now, we must unite and eradicate those filthy cultists hiding in the shadows.”

The great nobles nodded in agreement.

“Against the cult, we cannot afford to fight alone any longer, even if our alliance is only temporary.”

“We must not allow the cult to take root in the Kingdom of Dawn, no matter the cost. Should the kingdom fall, it would profit none of us.”

If the cult could strike the capital today, they could target any of them tomorrow. They still had much to live for—none wished to dwell under the cult’s shadow.

At that moment, a discordant voice broke in.

“With our strength, we can at best suppress them, not uproot them. To destroy the cult, we need the Sword of Dawn. But we’ve already fallen out with the king.”

At these words, silence fell.

Given the king’s temperament, any overture for alliance would likely be rebuffed, even with the kingdom’s fate at stake. His eccentricities defied prediction; no one dared assume he would act rationally.

“We need not appeal to the king directly. We could approach the Duke of the Eastern March.”

This suggestion brought a gleam to every eye. That mysterious duke, who had stood as an equal to the king during the royal oath, was clearly held in high esteem at court. Perhaps he could broker a connection.

All eyes turned toward the speaker—a man dressed plainly in black, his features rugged and unrefined, distinctly lacking the polished grace of traditional nobility.

This was Count Dyna, a newly risen extraordinary noble who had become a grand knight before the age of forty. Rumor had it he supported the Crown Prince, yet since arriving in the capital, he had also grown close to the Ninth Princess.

Count Dyna smiled and continued, “From what I know, the hours-long barrage today was orchestrated by the Duke of the Eastern March—a formidable force. And as a fellow lord, there’s no reason we shouldn’t reach out.”

At the mention of that terrifying assault, a deep wariness flashed in everyone’s eyes. Though not as destructive as high magic, its relentless duration had been enough to fell the ghoul tree.

Clearly, the Duke of the Eastern March was no ordinary peer—perhaps even a fifth-tier transcendent of some secret profession.

Duke Carter regarded Count Dyna for a long moment. “My dear Count Dyna, since the duke’s people first appeared near your lands, are you able to make the introduction?”

The other great nobles chimed in, imploring Count Dyna to act as their intermediary.

Today’s attack had thoroughly shaken them; none had imagined so many fiends lay hidden within the Kingdom of Dawn. Their dread had kindled a blazing wrath—whatever the cost, they would see the cult destroyed, root and branch, to spare themselves future peril.