Chapter 325: The Power of Weakness (Part 2)

  The scorching sun was like fire; the desert was like a giant blast furnace, and the things within this furnace were boiling.

  What was boiling was people, was blood, was killing.

  Blood had already turned the color of this desert from dry, golden yellow to red. The high heat steamed the corpses and blood on the ground, and the stench in the air was so strong that every breath was like inhaling and exhaling a ball of hot, pungent flesh and blood. But no one paid this any mind; everyone was heartily swallowing such air, shouting and screaming like madmen, hacking and killing each other. Any fight between natural enemies is far from as desperate and tragic as humans slaughtering each other like this.

  The nomads, in their uniform cloth robes and riding tall horses, wore no armor, but facing the fully armed swordsmen, not a single one retreated or hesitated. As long swords stabbed and cut into their bodies, their scimitars would in turn heavily chop, stab, and poke at the gaps in the swordsmen's armor and at their faces, using every possible means to leave as many and as large wounds as possible on the enemy's flesh.

  The other, smaller half were warriors riding wild boars, from another nomadic tribe at the edge of the desert.

  Under the army of Celeste, these tribes had to huddle together. These boar warriors were desperately trying to pin down the cavalry. Under the impact of heavy armor and lances, the corpses of boars and warriors were sent flying everywhere. With their simple equipment, they had almost no effective resistance, yet they still did not retreat. But no matter how ferocious they were, the gap in equipment and numbers was insurmountable, and the Church's forces were gradually gaining the upper hand.

  "Lord above, the evil forces of Celeste have already gained the advantage. Prophet, you should retreat for now." The Golden Tent Blade Guards escorting him had already fallen by more than half, and the few remaining were covered in blood. As the spiritual leader of the tribe, the Prophet should not have appeared on the front line of the battlefield.

  The Prophet was a middle-aged man with black hair and a black beard, wearing a blue star-and-moon robe. He had forced his way to the front line of the battlefield under the protection of the blade guards.

  Celeste, which was supposed to be in a standoff with Oufu, had suddenly turned and concentrated unprecedented forces on the nomadic tribal alliance in the southern desert. In just a few short days, they had already conquered the desert that originally belonged to the tribes. This was the final battle. All the nomadic warriors had already staked their lives. For their Lord and for the homes behind them.

  A dense sound of wind breaking the air suddenly rose. Two Golden Tent Blade Guards jumped up to block the front of the Prophet and his few companions.

  A dense sound like a torrential rain hitting banana leaves, and in the next second, the two blade guards fell as if they were banana leaves that had been skewered with countless bamboo sticks and then crumpled into a ball. Too many crossbow bolts had shot their bodies to near pulp. Under the simultaneous fire of over a hundred crossbowmen, let alone their lives, it was impossible for their human shape to remain intact. This was clearly an assassination aimed at the Prophet, the spiritual leader.

  "Where else can we flee to? Behind us is already the great camp of the tribal alliance. Even if we can escape, the tens of thousands of tribal elderly, weak, women, and children cannot escape." The Prophet's voice had a magnificence and grandeur that did not match his body or age, rolling out and reaching the ears of all the nomadic warriors. "Perhaps Celeste will not kill them. But they will force them to betray the Lord and believe in their evil god. This is an act more evil than killing them. To betray the Lord, the soul can only suffer forever in hell. To fight for the Lord, and to die, the Lord in heaven can see..."

  Following the Prophet's voice, the nomads' already high morale grew even higher, high to the point of frenzy. They, who originally had few defensive measures, now completely disregarded themselves, using every means they could, even using their bodies to crash, to twist, to bite with their teeth.

  "The Lord can see the warriors' bravery. He can bestow his blessings upon them..." The Prophet spread his arms wide, and a blue light lit up on his body. Then, almost all the nomads had the same light on them as well.

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  The priests behind the swordsmen had originally been responsible for support and healing, but now they immediately, all of them, frantically switched to using Purification to dispel the light on the nomads. That was the effect of a Blessing Spell. This was not a very profound support spell in itself, but when used on an army of thousands, its effect was no less than any grand spell. The nomads, who had originally been at a disadvantage, actually began to stabilize their position.

  Suddenly, from the knight formation that was being pinned down over there, a single rider broke away and charged towards the Prophet.

  The steel lance in his hand had the momentum of a rushing thunderbolt. Several boar warriors who tried to block him were all sent flying, man and several-hundred-jin wild boar together, by his lance.

  "Stop him!" a Golden Tent Blade Guard roared, and several nomads charged over.

  With a dull thud, a pillar of white light lit up on the knight's body. The knight did not even pause, using his momentum to directly send the few nomads scattering.

  "It's a Temple Knight!"

  Under the white magical glow, the Temple Knight had activated the Radiant Battleplate of the Divine Aegis of the Heavens. This time it wasn't just a few, but a whole group of nomads who charged over.

  This Temple Knight had already broken away from the main force. A single rider, covered in white light, carved a bloody path through the battlefield. Under the knight's lance, not a single nomadic warrior could offer the slightest resistance. With every thrust, sweep, or stab of the lance, a warrior flew into the air or was cut in two at the waist by the lance.

  But as the knight charged deeper, more and more nomadic warriors gathered, and his forward momentum finally slowed. With a clear whistle, the knight actually abandoned his horse and leaped high, stomping his foot on the body of a nomadic warrior.

  With a crack, the nomad's body twisted down at a strange angle, like an overloaded frame. The Temple Knight used the force to leap even higher, flying towards the Prophet. Dozens of scimitars flew at him with fierce whistling sounds, but the Temple Knight ignored them completely. Amid the clanging sounds, these scimitars had no effect against the astonishing protection of the Radiant Battleplate and were all deflected away.

  The Prophet roared in anger, a fireball rolling as it flew towards the knight in mid-air. The knight also threw the steel lance in his hand.

  The knight's lance, overflowing with Battle Qi and white magic, howled. The fireball spell was like a puff of smoke, easily scattered. The lance's momentum did not diminish in the slightest, rumbling towards the Prophet like a thunderbolt.

  A Golden Tent Blade Guard blocked the front of the Prophet, his large blade, one meter long and a foot wide like a small door panel, held vertically. But with a clang, the blade shattered into fragments and flew into the air along with flesh and blood. The door-panel-like blade and the tower-like body were like cotton and cardboard under this lance.

  But with this one block, another Golden Tent Blade Guard took the opportunity to pull the Prophet away. The remaining momentum of the knight's lance did not stop, piercing through several warriors behind him. Then three Golden Tent Blade Guards all raised the large blades in their hands to meet the falling Temple Knight.

  The Temple Knight did not dodge or yield; he was falling straight down and could not dodge or yield. The great blades chopping down on the Radiant Battleplate produced a huge sound like a bell being struck. To be able to cut a charging horse in half from head to tail in a single strike was the most basic requirement to become a Golden Tent Blade Guard. The large blades these guards used were even heavier and more substantial than a dwarf's axe.

  No matter how good the protection of the Radiant Battleplate was, it could not completely block such an attack. The knight's body trembled, and he almost fell to one knee. Blood had already seeped from the gaps in his armor. The mouth under his helmet opened, and a mouthful of blood sprayed out, but at the same time, the long sword at his waist flashed into several streaks of white light, and the three Golden Tent Blade Guards became six pieces.

  The knight was already seriously injured, but he did not pause in the slightest. The Prophet was already retreating under the protection of the last two Golden Tent Blade Guards. More nomads were surging from behind. He charged forward, waved his hand, and the long sword flew from his hand, slanting into the skull of a Golden Tent Blade Guard.

  His lance was lost, and his sword was gone. The charging knight actually clenched his fist and punched towards the Prophet. The door-panel blade of a Golden Tent Blade Guard chopped straight down towards his head. No armor could withstand such an attack. If this blade landed squarely, even if his head didn't shatter, his cervical spine would certainly not survive.

  "Die, you evil..." A look of joy had already appeared on the Prophet's face, and magical light was already glowing from his hand. As long as the other party dodged, he would have a chance to release a spell. Even if it had no effect on the Radiant Battleplate, it could at least blast this Temple Knight back, and the warriors behind would immediately swarm forward.

  But he could not finish his words; they, along with his nose bridge and a mouth full of teeth, were caved into his head under the Temple Knight's fist.

  The knight still did not yield. His head and body only slightly tilted, and the great blade scraped his helmet with an unpleasant loud noise before only chopping down onto his shoulder. He let out a miserable grunt. Even with the protection of the Radiant Battleplate, his shoulder blade had already cracked. He couldn't even block, because he only had one hand.

  The knight's helmet cracked and flew off, and a head of long, golden hair, stained with blood, also flew out.

  The face under the helmet was actually a woman's face. Even with her face covered in blood, and the bloodshot eyes and ferocious killing intent, they could not hide her handsome and heroic beauty.

  Looking at the Prophet fall in a bloody mess, and seeing that this fierce knight was actually a woman, the Golden Tent Blade Guard had no time to be stunned before a sharp pain from between his legs sent him flying.

  The female knight staggered forward a step, took the large blade from the Golden Tent Blade Guard, and with one stroke, cut off the Prophet's head. Fresh blood sprayed up, splashing onto her face and hair. She did not even blink. Her face and eyes were filled with a look colder and harder than a man's.

  She glanced around at the nomadic warriors who were about to surge forward. Those warriors, whether because they were too horrified by the Prophet's death or because this female knight was too ferocious, actually all stood still, dumbstruck like wooden chickens.