Chapter 70: Lady Jiao Rong

“Young knight, you are not welcome here.”

Their arrival had drawn the attention of Sister Colette, whose face was etched with wrinkles and now hardened with displeasure.

Li Nanke approached the elderly nun. “Madam, we have come out of reverence for the faith of Our Lady of the Scorched Visage. We wish to visit the monastery—”

“The Lady has long been dead. There is nothing worth seeing. Go back,” the old nun replied coldly, leaving no room for negotiation.

“Madam, we traveled from distant lands especially for this. We only wish to look around, nothing more.”

“No. As I said, there’s nothing to see.”

Seeing her obstinate refusal, Li Nanke changed his approach.

“If there is nothing to see, then why do you stand guard here, keeping others away?” He smiled and continued, “We are two young, strong knights, and you… Forgive me for asking, but if we tried to force our way in, could you stop us?”

Sister Colette’s expression grew even more frigid.

“As a knight, I owe elders courtesy. That is why I ask your permission. But perhaps you misunderstand… This is a notification, not a request.”

Li Nanke laughed quietly and paid her no more mind, striding toward the monastery’s gates.

Colette slowly rose from her rocking chair, her gaze fixed on their backs, muttering strange syllables under her breath…

In that instant, Reynold’s brow furrowed. He turned sharply, his figure flickering.

The great sword with the wolf’s head ignited in flaming fury. Waves of fire surged forth, obscuring the old nun’s view.

A hiss—

When the flames died down, Colette stood frozen, her mouth agape, motionless.

The icy blade’s edge was pressed to her lips; a mere twist of the wrist would shatter her teeth and ruin her tongue, forever robbing her of the ability to recite prayers.

Reynold snorted and withdrew his sword. “If your prayer had targeted us instead of the ground, you’d already be dead.”

“Flame’s Breath? You’re with the Penitential Legion!” Colette spat through clenched teeth.

Li Nanke turned back. “Madam, you seem to bear great hostility toward the Penitential Legion?”

Colette retreated two steps and sank back into her chair. “I can’t stop you. There’s nothing more to say.”

Li Nanke now showed no hurry to enter the monastery. He came to stand beside the old nun, speaking slowly. “Madam, you possess some power of prayer, enough to keep most ordinary folk from entering the monastery.”

“Just now, when we tried to force our way in, your intent was still only to block us, not to truly harm us. That means, from your heart, you bear little malice.”

“But for certain reasons, you are hostile to the Penitential Legion and the Holy Synod. So, when you learned we belonged to the Legion, you abandoned your resistance—and may even hope that we enter the monastery.”

“You act thus because there is a secret within the monastery, a dangerous one. Those who would expose it risk losing their lives.”

“Am I correct?”

Colette shook her head. “I keep others out because there are valuables inside. As for what the Penitential Legion covets, I have no courage to stop you.”

Li Nanke did not argue. He gestured toward Reynold. “This knight was once the chief instructor of the Penitential Legion. His name is Reynold, and he is also the brother of the Lady of Eternal Pain.”

“Reynold left the Synod and the Legion because he could not endure their atrocities.”

“As for me, I am a knight of the Mournful Order. Perhaps you’ve heard of the war between the Mournful Order and the Synod?”

Colette gazed at them, hesitating for a long time. “Proof?”

Li Nanke smiled, knowing he had won her trust. He produced credentials from the Order of Mercy, which Colette inspected, finally confirming their identities.

“Madam, now can you tell us what secret is hidden in the monastery?”

Colette, apologetic, led them into a shabby wooden hut, brewed a pot of herbal tea, and began to speak.

“Since you are warriors opposing the Synod, I no longer need to hide this secret.”

“The Lady’s true name was Frisia. She possessed a beautiful face; her beauty made all who saw her pause in awe. But more than that, Frisia’s heart was gentle. She was a devout and merciful believer, always kind to those around her.”

“Her beauty inspired many artists, who took Frisia as their muse and created statue after statue in her likeness.”

As she spoke, Colette produced a small stone figurine. Though time had blurred the features, the woman’s beauty still shone through.

“As the years passed, people’s adoration of her beauty grew beyond all bounds. They even began to use her image to replace the ancient, twisted statues of the First Father and worshipped in their stead.”

“The Synod preached thus to the ignorant masses: Frisia herself was deeply fearful, believing she was but a common woman and unworthy of such honors. Her humility and reverence for faith made her unable to bear this.”

“So, Frisia made a shocking decision. She destroyed her own face with scalding olive oil, demonstrating her devotion and respect for the First Father.”

“But in truth, only a few knew that Frisia acted out of fear of the Synod. She dreaded that her statues, replacing those of the First Father, would bring persecution at the hands of the church, forcing her to ruin her beauty.”

“No woman is truly indifferent to her appearance. To destroy such beauty with her own hands was a torment beyond words for Frisia.”

“And because of this agony, the Grace of Pain descended. The burns on Frisia’s face never healed; instead, boiling oil continued to seep from her wounds, and she suffered endless torment day and night.”

“The Synod finally lowered their guard, and Frisia became the ‘Our Lady of the Scorched Visage’ they canonized, condemned to lifelong confinement within the monastery, used as a tool to gather faith.”

“When the Lady grew old and spent her tragic life within these walls, the Synod abandoned her, sealing the now-useless monastery.”

“They released her only because death had put out her candle—she was no longer of use. But the Grace of Pain did not release her…”

“In the lightless crypt beneath the monastery, the Grace of Pain descended once more. After death, she transformed into a great and terrifying monster, her face forever streaming with boiling oil, tormented without end.”

“I have kept this secret, never daring to reveal it, for if the Synod learned of it, she would again become their tool, and her soul would never find rest.”

“I have always waited for someone who could end her suffering… Are you the ones I have awaited?”

As she spoke, Colette began to recite prayers.

With their echo, her white hair grew streaked with color, then became glossy and black. The loose, withered skin on her face regained vitality, growing smooth and full, the deep wrinkles fading away. Her frail, hunched form straightened, becoming a youthful body, plump and graceful.

Li Nanke looked at the little stone statue, then at Colette, who had transformed from a decrepit old woman into a stunning young lady, and realized the resemblance between the two.