Chapter 67: Gentle in Heart, Soft in Action

To storm the Penitent Sanctuary was akin to venturing into the very heart of the enemy’s lair; countless dangers awaited them. Yet, in Li Nanke’s mind, only risk and reward existed—fear and hesitation had never been part of his vocabulary.

Just watching the great knight Reynold train with his sword was enough to mark him as a master among masters, not to mention the legendary feat of fighting his way into the sanctuary’s depths, only succumbing to exhaustion before being captured. Reynold’s invitation to join forces was not prompted merely by the fact that Li Nanke was the Mourner—had Li Nanke not slain the elite Carrion Bellringer and displayed the Bloodthorn to prove his strength, this hidden path would likely have remained closed to him.

Faced with Reynold’s invitation, Li Nanke smiled faintly. “It is my honor to fight by your side.”

Reynold rose, his gaze burning with fervor. To throw oneself against the Penitent Sanctuary was to abandon all thoughts of life and death. Li Nanke owed him nothing, yet for the sake of a shared conviction, he agreed without so much as a furrowed brow. Who else could claim such resolve?

Reynold shut his eyes, drawing a deep breath. “That coward Edell did not support me. He rebuked and hindered me, content to trade his daughter’s life for fleeting peace.”

He laid a solemn hand upon Li Nanke’s shoulder. “Edward the Mourner, from this day forth, you are my comrade in life and death.”

Reynold then shared all he knew of the Penitent Army and the Sanctuary, for though he had been gone from the army for many years, as a former chief instructor, he still had access to secret channels.

In three days, the Penitent Army would raze Soros Village, sparing no one infected with the plague save those sheltered by the Licker’s Relief Society.

“Edward, get some rest tonight. We set out tomorrow.”

In this warped dreamscape, there was no day or night, the sun forever caught in dusk, time itself frozen in eternal twilight. The villagers measured hours by sandglasses and dripping water, struggling to distinguish day from night.

Li Nanke’s eyes glimmered. “No, Sir Reynold. We depart three days from now, at the very hour the Penitent Army launches its assault.”

Reynold started, understanding that the current siege outside the village was too tight. Any attempt to escape now would surely provoke the army’s wrath. Better to slip away amidst the chaos of battle, when the enemy’s focus was elsewhere.

He mulled it over, then nodded. Li Nanke’s plan was sound. He had waited years to free Anya; three more days would make little difference.

Over the following days, Li Nanke did not waste a moment, training under Reynold’s formidable tutelage. Reynold’s swordsmanship was peerless, and as a former chief instructor, he knew well how to instill the finest combat skills.

Li Nanke was already a seasoned fighter, and with Reynold’s frank and comprehensive guidance, his own mastery grew ever more profound.

Reynold even intended to teach him some battle prayers, the most basic of which was “Breath of Flame”—a technique that set the blade alight. These prayers were not only mighty and practical but could also blind the foe with flashes of fire, masking the next lethal strike. Yet such prayers were orthodox supernatural arts, not easily learned in a day or two, and Li Nanke wondered if this was knowledge he could truly acquire outside the blessing of a node.

Three days passed in a flash. Li Nanke felt himself much improved and was almost reluctant to depart. During that time, Robert came looking for him several times, but Li Nanke dismissed him with a few words, telling him to stay at the Relief Society for his own safety. Robert had neither skill nor strength—it would be folly to drag along such dead weight.

...

Sunset filtered through the thick boughs of the forest, dappled light flickering on the ground. Beneath the mournful call of horns, fully armed Penitent soldiers marched down the road toward Soros Village, oblivious to the two figures hidden in the shadows.

Reynold now wore light armor, his training sword replaced with a sharp greatsword whose hilt was carved in the likeness of a wolf’s head. When the Penitent Army had passed, the two men quickly followed the road, soon encountering a patrol whose numbers were small and formation loose.

They worked in concert, swiftly dispatching the patrol. Li Nanke stripped a suit of armor from a fallen soldier and tossed another to Reynold, tossing the bodies into the undergrowth. Thus disguised, they began to infiltrate and slip through the layers of blockade.

“Sir Reynold, let’s go this way.”

At a fork, one path led to a heavily guarded command camp of the Penitent Army, the other to a lesser-patrolled area. Yet Li Nanke pointed toward the command camp.

Reynold frowned. “Edward, what are you planning?”

Li Nanke thought to himself: naturally, he aimed to complete the second node. He had chosen to move on the third day, precisely because the army’s massed assault would leave the command camp thinly defended. In a slaughter of this scale, the commander had little reason to leave the rear; the odds were good he would still be present.

And so, this was the best chance for an assassination.

Li Nanke’s expression turned grave. “Everything I do is for your goal, for our shared purpose. Sir Reynold, do you trust me?”

“You’re willing to storm the Sanctuary with me—how could I not?”

“Then let’s go kill the Penitent Army’s commander.”

Reynold seized his arm, hissing, “Don’t be a fool—the commander is not so easily killed. Look how many soldiers are in that camp!”

Li Nanke turned, his gaze icy. “What’s wrong, Reynold? Are you afraid?”

“Afraid? If I were, I’d never have dreamed of storming the Sanctuary. I simply don’t want you to waste our strength on a meaningless act.”

Li Nanke fixed his eyes on the guarded road, his voice cold as steel. “Meaningless? Tell me, what would the Sanctuary and the Holy King do if their commander were slain?”

Reynold replied without hesitation, “The commander is here on the Sanctuary’s orders. If he were assassinated, it would be seen as sacrilege and rebellion—an affront to the Holy King. No one’s dared such a thing in years. The Holy King would blame Soros Village, and to assert his authority, would send even more troops to utterly destroy it. Not only the infected, but even the healthy villagers... perhaps even the Relief Society and nearby villages would be caught in the purge.”

Li Nanke nodded. “Exactly. That’s the outcome I seek. For every extra soldier sent to Soros, the Sanctuary will be that much less guarded when we arrive.”

He turned to meet Reynold’s gaze. “I don’t act without purpose. I told you—all I do is for your goal, for our shared cause. All you must do is trust me, absolutely.”

Reynold seemed struck by the force of that gaze. He bowed his head, the shadow of his hair hiding his face. “Even if the price is all of Soros Village?”

Li Nanke strode ahead, the chainsaw sword entwined with thorns materializing in his hand.

“The Sanctuary of Penance is the root of all evil and suffering. Uproot it, and we can save countless Soros Villages. If your heart falters, better turn back now and try to save those doomed villagers. When we reach the Sanctuary, you need not act. I’ll be the one to end Anya’s pain and her life.”