Chapter 350 - 342: Saints’ Revelry

Chapter 350: Chapter 342: Saints’ Revelry

A secluded building in the backyard.

Candle flames burned quietly in the sealed, windowless room, casting the silhouettes of four figures in black monastic robes onto the walls.

The woman in the lead, codenamed "Adjudicator," was wiping her weapon with a piece of linen cloth.

The Runes on the dagger shimmered faintly in the candlelight.

The other three, all male witch hunters, were either meditating or organizing their gear.

They were the Church’s sharpest blades, the purifying fire that eradicated heretics. Discipline and piety were etched into their very bones.

A soft knock came from the door.

One of the witch hunters rose, opened the door, took a tray from the servant outside, and quickly shut it again. The entire process was completed without any communication.

Hot water was poured into four ceramic cups, and white bread was distributed to each person.

This was one of their rituals for maintaining physical and spiritual purity, rejecting any meat or strong spirits that might contaminate the soul.

The woman raised her cup, about to drink.

Her movement suddenly froze.

"There’s... something in the water," she said. Her voice was still icy, but it held a hint of suspicion.

The other three were instantly on alert.

One of them, codenamed "Inquisitor," was the team’s perception specialist. He closed his eyes, and his Spiritual Power spread out like mercury, meticulously scanning the liquid in the cup.

A moment later, he opened his eyes and shook his head.

"No reaction to toxins. No curses, shadows, or other forms of Magic Energy. It’s probably just your imagination."

The woman’s brow relaxed.

’Her companion’s assessment wouldn’t be wrong; if there were no negative effects, then there were none. Perhaps Carlos’s disappearance has made me too tense.’

She hesitated no longer and downed the warm water in her cup. The other three followed suit, finishing their water and bread.

The room returned to silence.

About a quarter of an hour later, things took a sudden turn.

"Adjudicator," who was wiping her dagger, suddenly felt her fingers stiffen. An inexplicable heat rose from her lower abdomen, spreading rapidly through her entire body.

It felt like countless ants were gnawing at her veins.

A tremor ran through her chest—the sacred wellspring that should have been sensing heresy and sending warnings was no longer transmitting any holy signals. Instead, it was pumping out wave after wave of something unfamiliar, even blasphemous... desire!

Her breathing grew ragged, and an unnatural flush crept across her pale cheeks.

Everything in her line of sight—the corners of the table, the candlestick, even her companions’ shadows—began to twist and distort, exuding an indescribable allure.

"No..." She squeezed the single word from between her teeth, her heart filled with terror.

’What is happening?’

’Is it a demon’s whisper?’

’Or is my faith not pious enough, and I’ve been tainted by sin?’

She tried to chant a prayer of purification but found her tongue wouldn’t obey, only able to produce vague, moan-like sounds.

"Inquisitor," who was beside her, was in even worse shape.

He snapped his eyes open, his gaze as Crimson Red as blood. He stared intently at a spot on the wall as if the world’s most evil heresy was hidden there.

"Filth! Sin!" he roared, lunging forward. He began to claw madly at the wall plaster, his fingernails breaking and bleeding, but he seemed oblivious. It was as if he wanted to erase the foul desires surging within him from the world, along with that patch of wall.

The other two witch hunters also descended into their own respective frenzies.

One began to tear off his clothes frantically, muttering to himself.

"The flesh is a cage! A hotbed of sin! I must be free! I must welcome the Lord’s Holy Light in the nude!"

The other clutched his head and writhed on the floor in agony, laughing one moment and weeping the next.

"I hear it! I hear the Lord’s questioning! He’s asking why I haven’t killed more heretics! I’m tainted! I’m a sinner!"

The dam of their sanity had been shattered by the "Final Knightly Tournament."

Inside the room, roars, cries, and thuds mingled together. The huge commotion finally alerted the pirates outside.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The sound of someone pounding on the door echoed.

"What the fuck is going on in there!"

Soon, Barbossa, reeking of alcohol, arrived, surrounded by his trusted men. He stared at the door, which was trembling from the frantic impacts within, his one eye filled with rage and confusion.

He kicked the door open.

The sight before him left him stunned.

The room was in a total mess, as if a pack of wild beasts had rampaged through it. The four "honored guests" he had been treating with such courtesy were now entangled in all sorts of disgraceful positions.

One was dancing naked, another was bashing his head against the wall, and the other two were grappling with each other. But it was less of a fight and more of them trying to rip each other’s clothes off.

"What... What’s going on?" Barbossa’s mind struggled to process the scene.

"Captain..." a soft, charming voice sounded beside him.

It was Lillian. She had appeared at some point, a worried look on her face.

"They..." Mia’s voice was laced with trepidation. "Sir, it looks like they’re performing some kind of... ritual."

"A ritual?" Barbossa frowned.

"Yes. I’ve seen ascetic monks from the Church on the mainland before. To prove their piety to their god, they torture themselves in all sorts of extreme ways."

"And it’s said that anyone who disturbs such a ritual is considered a blasphemer and will be hunted relentlessly by the Church."

’A blasphemer? Hunted by the Church?’

Those words made Barbossa feel like he was in a tight spot.

As someone who made his living on the seas, he would rather face the Empire’s fleet than provoke those lunatics from the Church.

"Are you saying these are Church people performing a ritual?"

"I can’t be certain, sir," Mia said, lowering her gaze to skillfully hide her intentions. "But it’s better to be safe than sorry in these matters. For the sake of your men, and to avoid bringing trouble upon ourselves, it’s best we... stay far away from them, and don’t disturb them."

"Seal it up!" Barbossa made a swift decision and roared at his men. "Shut the door tight! No one is to go near it! Post a team to guard it, and report to me when it gets quiet inside!"

Mia kept her head down, a smile playing on her lips.

...

「As night deepened.」

The din of Peace Bay gradually subsided, leaving only the snoring of drunkards and the sound of waves crashing against the reefs.

Several shadowy figures appeared like ghosts outside the sealed-off building.

Kael, Ola, and Xiaolan. Behind them were ten elites selected from the Gebiewu and the Raging Waves Knight Order.

"Damn it, do we have to sneak around like thieves?" Ola complained in a low voice, his giant axe resting on his shoulder. "Why don’t we just charge in? One swing of the axe for each of them, and we’re done."

"Shut up." Kael pointed at the small building. "Stick to the plan."

Ola pouted but said no more.

Xiaolan clutched the two daggers in her hands, her heart pounding fiercely.

This was her first time participating in such a dangerous assassination mission, but the trust that Kael and Lord Velin had placed in her helped her suppress her fear.

Kael gave a hand signal.

Two Rangers crept forward silently and pried open a window with a special tool.

Kael was the first to vault inside, his movements as light as a falling leaf.

A strange odor hit him as soon as he was inside—a mixture of sweat, blood, and some kind of bodily fluid.

Two witch hunters lay on the floor, their clothes disheveled, their bodies covered in scratches and bruises. They seemed to have exhausted their strength and fallen into a stupor.

’Looks like this is going even more smoothly than expected.’

Ola grinned, raising his axe to finish them off.

Just then, the unexpected happened again!

The witch hunter who had been lying motionless on the floor snapped his bloodshot eyes open the moment Ola approached.

His gaze was still chaotic, but his body erupted with astonishing strength. He let out a roar, sprang up from the floor, and charged straight at Ola!

Although he couldn’t use Divine Arts, his battle instincts, honed through countless trials, were etched into his very muscles!

"Fuck!" Ola cursed. He hadn’t expected the half-dead bastard to still be able to move.

He had no time to wind up for a powerful swing and could only hastily raise the handle of his axe to block.

CLANG!

With a loud crash, Ola felt a massive force slam into him, knocking him back two steps.

The fight was on!

The other "unconscious" witch hunter also sprang into action at that moment. His target wasn’t the strongest, Ola, nor the most dangerous, Kael, but the one who appeared to be the weakest—Xiaolan!

A broken table leg had somehow appeared in his hand. With a whistle of air, he brought it crashing down toward Xiaolan’s head!