Chapter 367: The Fading Holy Light

Bishop Megor—sharing the exact same name as the pope of the Dream Church from seven centuries ago—was the head of the central diocese. The name was not unfamiliar to Leight; the papal decree that had sent him to preach in the southern territories bore Megor’s signature.

Though, the Megor who signed that decree probably didn’t even know who he was—after all, a bishop of his rank had countless documents to sign every day.

Before Leight stood a priest of the Holy Light, speaking with unwavering conviction. His tone brooked no argument, his expression one of utmost piety. Meanwhile, the man condemned as an evil heretic whimpered softly—each breath a struggle, likely broken ribs from a soldier’s heavy boot. Beside him, a woman in tattered skirts desperately tried to plead with the soldiers to release her husband, but the silent divine magic binding her throat rendered her mute.

Leight fell silent for a moment.

So, the stories told by those fleeing from the Spirit Plains to the southern lands were true.

So, the merchants’ reports about the Holy Light Church’s brutal persecution of heretics in the Spirit Plains, and their ruthless accumulation of wealth, were true as well.

He lifted his gaze to his so-called “brothers in the church” and asked, “Will they be given a trial?”

“They’ve already been judged,” the priest replied casually. “What I just said was the judgment.”

“And what fate awaits them?” Leight pressed.

“Do you really need to ask?” one of the soldiers sneered. “The men get dragged to the square for a few dozen lashes, the women locked in the water dungeon for a few days. Then they’re given a chance to confess. If they confess, they’re sent to the town church. After that, it’s up to the clerics to decide their fate.”

“The Holy Light offers them a chance,” the priest wearing a white soft hat trimmed with gold added, clearly assuming Leight was some remote monastery ascetic, his tone thick with impatience. “They can convert, surrender half their property as atonement, and be considered pure. Or they can refuse—then it’s off to the pyre to see if their souls can be saved.”

The last words were said with a cruel humor, prompting the two soldiers present to chuckle.

Leight glanced at the priest, then at the two soldiers beside him. He could tell these weren’t temple knights of the church, but local lord’s mercenaries. If these soldiers accompanied the priest to make arrests, the local lord must be profiting handsomely from the atonement payments.

“You’ve arrested quite a few, haven’t you?” Leight said calmly, looking at the priest in the white and gold hat. “How many gold coins can you make off a poor peasant like this?”

The priest frowned, a flicker of caution crossing his face. “Brother, that’s not your concern—this is the territory of the Church of Riven.”

“Oh,” Leight nodded, glancing at the two soldiers. “The Holy Light asked me to pass along a message.”

The soldiers exchanged confused looks. The priest’s hand instinctively went to the holy emblem on his chest. “What do you want?”

Leight’s voice was calm but resolute. “The Holy Light tells us to stand against evil—”

Before he finished, he twisted sharply, raising his arm. His massive fist cut through the air like a stone missile, smashing into the nearest soldier’s helmet.

The soldier froze, stunned. Having lived his whole life on the peaceful Spirit Plains, where war was a distant memory, he was unprepared for such a sudden attack. The heavy impact rang out like a bell as Leight’s fist struck the steel helmet, which dented deeply. The soldier was sent flying, unconscious before he even hit the ground.

Leight didn’t pull back. Using the momentum, he spun and swept his leg at the other soldier, who finally reacted, leaping back and drawing his shortsword to stab at Leight.

Leight showed no fear. White holy light surged around his hands as he reached out and grabbed the steel blade with his bare flesh. The light formed an unyielding barrier in his palm. The soldier’s desperate thrust was locked fast, as if the sword had been wedged into a crack in a stone wall—no matter how hard he pulled, it wouldn’t budge.

Leight had sworn never to use the Holy Light to harm others, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use it to defend himself.

Suddenly, a surge of magical energy came from behind. Without turning, Leight tightened his grip on the sword. Cracks spiderwebbed across the blade. With a powerful tug, he yanked the soldier forward, then swung his other hand to knock the soldier’s shield away and grabbed him by the neck like a chicken, hurling him toward the priest.

The priest’s eyes widened in shock. He quickly summoned a holy blast, but the searing light struck only the flying soldier, who screamed in agony and passed out midair. The priest was forced to dodge awkwardly to the side.

Before the priest could recover, Leight charged.

“The Holy Light tells us that bullying the weak is despicable!”

His massive fist crashed into the priest’s chest, but a faintly golden shield appeared, absorbing the blow. The priest was thrown backward, the shattered holy shield scattering like blood droplets.

Leight gave him no chance to rise. He pressed the priest into the dirt, towering over him, and raised his fist high.

“The Holy Light tells us that slander and false accusations are worse than robbery!”

His fist came down hard. The priest hastily reformed a shield, but it cracked under the impact, scattering sparks of light.

The priest tried to curse and cast counterspells, but an overwhelming pressure stifled his thoughts. He couldn’t even form a complete sentence—Leight knew his moves too well and gave him no room to resist.

The heavy fist rose again, whistling through the air—

“The Holy Light tells us that greed is beastly!” Bam!

“The Holy Light tells us that committing evil in the name of holiness is worse than evil itself!” Bam!

“The Holy Light tells us that if injustice goes unpunished, it is no different from evil!” Bam!

The final blow shattered the priest’s fragile shield. The holy light no longer protected the man lying in the dirt. Leight’s fist smashed into the terrified face, blood spurting everywhere.

Grabbing the priest by the collar, Leight pulled him close and stared into his eyes, speaking slowly and clearly: “The Holy Light has told you all this. Did you remember it?”

Bloodied and terrified, the priest looked at him like a madman. His voice was barely a whisper: “I… I remember…”

“No, you don’t,” Leight shook his head, pushing the priest back down. He raised his fist again and brought it down hard. “You’re just scared of me.”

With a dull thud, the priest’s mouth and nose bled profusely. He finally lost consciousness.

“The Holy Light tells us to exercise restraint.”

Leight sighed softly and slowly stood.

The holy light that had shielded him and his fists had vanished without his noticing.

He approached the peasant couple and bent down to check on them. The woman gasped softly—the silence spell binding her throat had finally broken.

“Don’t be afraid. You’re safe now,” Leight said gently, carefully examining the man’s injuries.

The young farmer’s face was bruised and bloodied, clearly beaten before being dragged out. His worst injury was the broken ribs from the soldier’s iron boot. He breathed painfully, clutching his chest.

Leight knew how to set bones. He treated the wounds, telling the man not to move, then quietly prayed for the Holy Light’s aid.

Only a faint, dim glow appeared before him, flickering and almost gone in an instant.

Leight paused, as if understanding something.

He said nothing, instead pulling out prepared holy water and a healing amulet. With their magic, he finally managed to mend the farmer’s wounds.

“Th… thank you…” the young man got to his feet, pale but grateful. Though he didn’t understand what had just happened, he knew this man in robes was trying to save him.

“You’d better leave this village,” Leight accepted the thanks and warned them. “You can’t live here anymore.”

He knew the events here would soon reach the ears of the church and the local lord. The villagers who witnessed the fight would surely report it. Though Leight had been the one to strike first, the lord and the clerics wouldn’t care.

Even without this fight, Leight knew this couple had no future here.

They had been branded heretics on false charges, marked by the Holy Light Church. Their fate was sealed: either burned at the stake or forced to repent in the church, convert, and surrender half their property as atonement. But for poor peasants like them, what life remained after giving up half their land?

Their fields would be seized, becoming church or lord property. Their homes too. At best, they’d become serfs, toiling the land that was no longer theirs. At worst, they’d starve and freeze to death when winter came.

All of this had been decided long before Leight arrived.

“But where can we go…” the woman in coarse cloth twisted her dress in anguish. Having never left this village in her life, she could think of no way out. “Where can we survive…”

“I’ve learned carpentry,” the young farmer said, “but the lord will surely capture us and drag us back…”

“Go to Cecil, down south,” Leight said suddenly. “There, you’ll find work.”

“Cecil?” The couple exchanged a glance. Isolated and uninformed, they had never even heard of the frontier lands.

Leight took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. Looking at the two before him, he said solemnly, “I’ll take you there.”

(Recommended read: Fourfold Schism, a game-themed novel featuring a protagonist with literal schizophrenia. It’s a fascinatingly imaginative story. The author, Wei Ye Wutong, is actually a reader from our group—I’m not sure if anyone here knows them… I only just found out they’re writing, but I wanted to give a shout-out. Who knows, it might become a hit.)

(End of chapter)