CHAPTER 548: CHAPTER 526: SURPRISE ATTACK ON SAINT LAVAN

"Cabbage, cheap sale! Cabbage, cheap sale!"

"Eggs, eggs, eggs, the eggs have jumped off a cliff, for sale!"

The fiery sky at dusk and the deep blue sky were distinctly separate, and wisps of smoke rose from the small town formed by dozens of houses.

In the town square, most of the market people were dispersing, either heading home under the sunset or staying in the town’s tavern and casino for a while.

"Monk Modie, we’re leaving."

"By the Saint Master." Monk Modie, dressed in a black monk’s hooded robe, drew a character on his forehead and bade farewell to the family of five who had sold out their peas.

"Monk Modie, have you eaten? Why don’t you come to my house for a meal?" A tall, burly man waved at Modie.

"I’m fasting, only eating black bread and water these days, so I won’t disturb you." Modie smiled and patted the man’s hairy, muscular arm, "Don’t lead me into temptation."

"Hahaha." The burly man laughed and walked away.

Standing at the market’s entrance, Modie bade farewell to the vegetable farmers and vendors who had attended the market, knowing the next time would be in ten days.

It was evident that, as a monk of the Juanist Faction, Modie received much more respect than the Wandering Cultivators who stayed cramped in small chapels daily.

Since the Salvation Army and the Duke’s Army triumphed, taking advantage of this momentum, many original monks from the Juanist Faction seized the opportunity to rise to power, virtually sidelining the priests of the Church.

"It’s payday again, Monk Modie, may the Holy Father bless you!"

"Wait a moment." Modie grabbed the beggar idler’s wrist, "You’re not heading to the casino again, are you?"

"Hehe, how could that be?"

Though he said so, Modie watched him walk straight into the town’s casino.

It was a tent with curtains, the sounds of dice hitting the dice cups and cards slamming the table were incessant.

Modie frowned helplessly.

He was very much against gambling and drinking, but unfortunately, he had no power to dismantle these casinos.

Countless times, he witnessed gamblers ruining their homes, selling their sons and daughters, with their daughters and wives ending up in the brothel across the street.

He even somewhat envied the laws on the Salvation Army’s side, where there were punishments for drinking and gambling, even if it was just confinement and fines, it was better than the almost non-existent control here.

But fortunately, this was only one corner; through advice and visits, most young people had realized the dangers of gambling.

They probably wouldn’t be like their fathers, winning money at the market only to lose it all in the casino.

Walking on the muddy road, Modie headed out of the town; his home was in the wilderness, or rather, this town was already in the wilderness.

It was located in the mountainous area of northwestern Kasha County, always secluded.

Nevertheless, news of Kleiss Castle being captured still spread to this town through the merchants’ mouths.

Yet the people here didn’t feel the war at all; they continued selling eggs, entering casinos, and even holding markets.

Initially, people were nervous, but after Monk Modie’s explanations and the fact that no scattered soldiers had come here, they lowered their guard.

Frankly, Modie only laughed at Lakunio’s lack of intelligence and Puzilio’s lack of wit.

How many roads are there from Hotam County to Kasha County? They were primarily Knights, naturally taking the wide roads and plains.

To invade swiftly and assault the castles gave them the best chance of success.

Yet now they stubbornly chose Kleiss Castle in the northwest mountains, traversing these perilous valleys. Isn’t that asking for trouble?

Moreover, their movement tipped their hand, giving the monks time to prepare, making future ambushes much more difficult.

Passing grazing sheep and climbing the steep mountain path to a plateau in the mountains, nestled near the woods and stream, stood a Hunter’s Hut.

Modie had taken up residence there.

Returning to the house, taking out prepared water and bread, and lighting the oil lamp, Modie began his daily prayers and confessions.

Many Blago Monastery’s monks dispatched to rural areas would almost relax this task, sometimes even eating and drinking with locals.

Perhaps because Modie had been a monk for nearly forty years before being reassigned, he had forgotten how to live without such habits.

After finishing his prayers, Modie took out a noble’s military journal, chewing on bread while reading it with relish.

Compared to those exaggerated, fantastical Knight novels and Demon Hunter tales, he preferred these real records.

However, his page-turning speed gradually slowed, as if something was distracting him, until he stopped altogether.

Listening intently, Modie furrowed his brow.

Why were there sounds of horse hooves? Had he been living alone too long and started hallucinating?

Not even having time to put down his bread, Modie rushed to the door, gazing towards the valley.

A few seconds later, he suddenly discarded the bread, not caring that it fell into the mud, and sprinted towards the plateau’s small hill.

In the darkness, Modie thrashed through the prickly underbrush, the thorns tearing his expensive wool monk’s robe.

Blood trickled down his hands and forehead, sticky against his skin, but Modie paid no mind as he charged forward.

Finally, panting heavily, he reached the hilltop.

Standing high on the summit, eyes piercing through the night, Modie lifted his head toward the valley.

His face, illuminated by the valley’s firelight, flickered in light and shadow.

In the narrow gorge, the torches formed a torrent, the sound of warhorses’ snorts as this current twisted through the canyon.

Between the steep cliffs on either side, colorful swallowtail battle flags fluttered under the moonlight.

Armor shimmered like a river under the night, iron hooves thumping against the ground, a deep thud.

The iron-forged torrent ruthlessly crushed the earlier small town.

Along this rarely traveled road, at least a thousand Knights were advancing under cover of night, with thousands of infantry following behind.

The leading two Knights were Lakunio and Puzilio.

The two noble lords astonishingly set off immediately after capturing Kleiss Castle, without celebrating or revelry, overtaking the outpost fortress in front of the gorge.

Under Lakunio and Puzilio’s pressure, the Knights continued running at full gallop, not even removing their armor.

They avoided the main road, choosing a more treacherous and narrow path that could lead to disaster with any misstep.

Their reward was not having to contend with the sturdy fortresses along the main road.

The monasteries and lords in Kasha County had purchased much mortar to refurbish the previously ruined castles, but it was almost useless.

Beyond this road lies the Saint Lavan Monastery, a heavily guarded fortress.

However, with even their town unprepared for an enemy assault, would the monks of Saint Lavan be ready?

If they could also breach Saint Lavan Monastery, beyond would be the small basin of Kasha County.

Once out of the mountains, the Blago Monastery sitting in the small basin is virtually defenseless.

The early winter night wind stirred the wool monk’s robe, and Modie felt an overwhelming chill.

"Oh, Holy Father!"