Shadow of the Evil God

"You can't mess around in a carriage with others while there's fighting on the front line," Fields pointed out immediately.

"The book can only cover your face," Cesar reminded her. "If you want to express your refusal with your actions, you should stand up and jump out of the carriage."

“It’s tiring to just say no!”

César stepped around the book that was blocking her face, lifted her up, and placed her on his lap before returning to his seat. She didn't jump out of the carriage, of course, because César knew that while her mind wanted to return to the right path, her spirit longed for his caress, like a bird longing for the shade of a tree. Soaring freely under the scorching sun was ideal, but once a bird huddled in the shade of a tree or nest, it could easily become trapped, unable to move, unable to move its claws.

"I was going to ask for your opinion just now, but then I remembered your records along the way," he said.

"Is there something wrong with my record?" Phils, still holding the book, glanced at him sideways through the book, like a thief. "I see you didn't say anything on the way," she said.

"I wonder if turning a blind eye to what's happening to people, neither condemning nor defending them, is this an attitude of being unable to see, or unwilling to see, what's happening around us."

"If you say one more thing about me, I'll put a potion in your meal tonight. You'll never know what terrible effects it will have."

"Oh, all right," Cesar said. "I just think that even running away is more humane than what I just considered. If you had grown up in the environment I lived in, you'd certainly be much more moral than I am now."

"Perhaps you've adapted too quickly," she said. The sparse sunlight filtered through the leaves and then through the carriage curtains, creating a hazy, psychedelic effect, like being underwater, blurring her vision. "Right after waking from the altar, you set a trap to kill the White Eyes and abduct the Faceless One. Within a few days of living in the Lower City, you mastered the local language. Within a month, you used rumors to become a fictitious noble. It's like you're not learning something you don't know, but reclaiming something you already have..."

Phils's voice gradually became lower, and Cesar felt that the sunlight became more hazy and psychedelic, falling on the carriage, as if they were just a layer of mist on the lake, or a pool of water of a slightly different color at the bottom of the lake.

"I think there are too many false things," he said, "especially identity and reputation. People place their hopes on me because of my identity and reputation, but only we ourselves know their true nature."

"Isn't it because those people who are not fake are doing worse than you?"

Cesar touched her earlobe, running his fingers over her ear. "Why do you think that is?" he asked.

"You have so many questions." Phils muttered and closed her eyes.

She leaned back against him, letting him stroke her small, lovely cheeks and jaw. "Perhaps the world has suddenly changed at a faster pace, and there are more things that cannot be dealt with by past experience. When Musali formulated the siege plan, he certainly could not have imagined that the Lord of Noien was a crazy cultist.

It's the kind that poses the greatest threat. The defenders certainly didn't expect the steppe people to pull out a giant creature from the Kuna era. If all the experience and knowledge we already have is useless, then isn't it all just about improvisation?

Chapter 104: Non-existent Tactical Vision

"You can't always count on this," Cesar said.

"Why don't you continue reading that book?"

"How can you consider one thing while considering another?" Cesar asked Phils in her ear.

She exhaled slowly, a breath condensing into a small mist in the sparse light. The team had landed in a damp woodland, lush with vegetation, leaves covered in dew. The carriage itself was damp, and a chilly air permeated the air. Her face looked especially smooth and translucent, and the blush was evident. The open book couldn't hide it anymore; the more it rose, the more it seeped down to her ears.

"This is in the middle of the barracks, and others will see it," she said.

Cesar pinched Phils' earlobe, feeling the skin growing warm under his fingers. "Who would have seen it? It's a long way over there, and it will take a long time for the scouts to confirm the situation," he said.

"This is a critical moment, you should do something serious," said Phils again.

"I'm serious, I promise." Cesar lowered his head and whispered to her softly, "Think about it, if people's hearts are half good and half evil. If I ask it to lean forward towards me, more good can flow into my soul. If I just watch it lean back, it will fall to the ground, condense into dew, turn into mist, and leave only the horrible remains after people's kindness has been poured out."

"You're such a talker." Her voice was like a sigh.

Although their eyes were close, Phils covered her face with the book, so he pulled down her clothes a little and kissed her bare shoulders.

"Besides, if a person is not willing to show much kindness, I would certainly hope that she would show all her kindness to me," he added.

"Your breath is tickling me," she murmured.

"Wouldn't you like to say a few words? I feel sorry if you don't respond."

"I'm not good at talking about this." Her muttering became quieter, and she covered her face with the book more tightly.

The more he spoke, the more Fils covered her face and shrank back, as if trying to hide herself in a book. He gradually discovered that speaking subtle words could elicit a strange emotional response from her, more profound than simple physical contact.

"I was just describing what happened recently. It's clear you're too thin-skinned," Cesar said, reaching into her loosened clothing and pressing his fingertips against the unripe apple on her right side. He could feel it gradually swelling, like a delicate cherry, soft and smooth underneath. A gentle pinch would dent it, giving it an incredibly delicate touch, as if it would leave a mark.

He rubbed it carefully, his lips gently kissing Fils's shoulder and then her armpit. The skin felt smooth and white, delicately textured, and stained with a hint of sweat. He kissed it for a moment, then nibbled it, inhaling a faint salty taste, and she shuddered and twisted in his arms. She clung to him, moving constantly, like a small water snake caught in a clutch, trying to escape.

"I think people shouldn't think about lust, lust, and lust all the time." Fields put the book down a little and looked down at him.

She seemed to have put a lot of effort into saying this.

Cesar raised his eyes. "I also feel that this passion right now is twisted and impulsive. But fire burns like this too, twisted and impulsive. Fire is life, doesn't that mean that life itself is twisted and impulsive?"

"If I had just met you, I would have put you in one of those frivolous aristocrats who flirt with women everywhere. The moment the fire in you gets aroused, you start talking nonsense."

"No—I just cherish every moment. I eat up the you of this age bit by bit, tasting every flavor, so that next year I can concentrate on tasting the next age."

"You can go be a White Nightmare," Firth muttered.

"It can devour the soul, but it cannot occupy a person's past time and life."

"You mean you're more greedy and hateful than it?"

"So are you going to keep covering your face with a book and verbally attacking me? I know there are a lot of people around, but after all, they are all separated by the outer wall of the carriage."

"The boards are too thin! It's no different than being in the middle of a crowd!"

"The difference is that you can wait nervously and anxiously for someone to suddenly lift the curtain of the carriage. If you just stay in the crowd, you lack this anticipation," Cesar said. "If you always talk about love in a room where no one interrupts you, it will always get boring, don't you think?"

......

While they were doing their business, someone did suddenly enter the carriage, but it was a Faceless Person, so it was a close call. Aside from Phils nearly screaming out in fright, nothing serious happened.

Cesar felt that his emotions were relieved, coupled with his previous self-talk

He was convinced, and he had almost accepted all kinds of adverse situations. He took a rough assessment of the casualties, and after confirming that the ambushing rebels had dispersed, he ordered the troops to continue their advance. Finally, near the village at the end of the road, they found a ground full of hedgehogs pierced with arrows and sieves riddled with bullet holes.

When they arrived, the scouts sent out

Just picked up three living people from the pile of corpses; when the marching team completely stopped, the three living people became two; when Cesar called the doctor, the two living people became one. Surprisingly, the only living person was Varedo, not only that, Varedo actually knelt on the ground and confessed to him.

"I'm sorry, sir. It was my recklessness that caused all this. The enemy had hundreds of men, armed with bows, crossbows, and muskets. We rushed into their ambush, and before we could react, a volley of fire killed most of our men. The rest were hacked to death by them. If it weren't for my classmates who risked their lives to protect me, I wouldn't have survived. I've betrayed your trust, and I've betrayed all of them..."

Cesar could already figure out what was going on.

To be honest, these people at least destroyed the trap set for the entire marching group, and the casualties were certainly much smaller than if the entire marching group had stepped into the trap. First, the rebels must have known their marching route; second, a force of several hundred people with a large number of bows, crossbows and muskets was definitely not a force prepared for the garrison of the nearby villages and towns - they didn't need so many people, nor did they need the weapons and supplies to create such a large-scale scene with a single round of fire.

With such a large number of men and supplies, the rebels naturally intended to capture them all in one fell swoop. All it took was a wounded cavalryman, pretending to seek support from a nearby village or town, accidentally passing through the ranks and approaching the noble officers with the rhetoric from "Military Strategy," to stir their spirits and awaken their long-suppressed desires. This would impulsively trigger the group to rush forward, bringing with them most of their remaining strength, to support the village and attempt to annihilate the rebels.

As long as they set up an ambush, destroyed the roads, built fortifications that could trap horses, and then took advantage of the terrain and the advantages of muskets and crossbows to ambush, they could quickly kill these knights with minimal loss. Afterwards, they could take the opportunity to resupply the baggage train's supplies, which was a very clear goal and plan.

Judging from the scene before them where they could have more than 50 people shot to death with multiple rounds, they probably made the same mistake as Varedo - they thought too well but ended up not making any backup plans.

The rebels had hoped to trap the majority of the cavalry, but instead, only this small number arrived. After dealing with these fifty-plus men, they didn't quickly clean up the battlefield, waiting for more to arrive. Judging from the aftermath, they simply rushed forward, slaughtered everyone, and then withdrew.

From the attacker's perspective, retreat was indeed the better option. A team of several hundred had waited for a little over fifty people to arrive. Who knew if they had fallen into a trap? A mere fifty people sprinting towards the trap looked like deliberate bait. Although Cesar certainly hadn't been bait.

They didn't even have time to check the casualties before retreating completely, which saved a few lives. After all, no one knew whether hundreds of cavalry would rush out from the rear and kill them all while they were stripping armor and grabbing weapons.

"I bet your reputation will spread again soon," Fils said as Cesar rode past the carriage. "Even though it still has nothing to do with you, it's still a reputation. A fictitious noble status paired with a fictitious reputation, coupled with a fictitious strategic vision, what do you think?"

Chapter 105: To Welcome Our Princess

Needless to say, Cesar didn't want to think about it right now. His fame had come quickly, and it would go just as quickly. The problem was, if it were lost, the consequences would extend beyond a return to his former obscurity. His fame wasn't just a burden; it was a powder keg, a burden he couldn't let go of. It would explode the moment it hit the ground, leaving him crippled or even dead.

On the other hand, his fictitious reputation had brought him numerous benefits. It had helped him escape the quagmire of Noi'en, allowing him to travel to other regions under the protection of the Auldan army. It had also allowed him to openly appear with Count Thane in public without being taken back to the altar. The benefits were too numerous to mention.

Just to give you an example: a few months ago, he had no identity of his own and didn't even understand the Frankish language. Now, these knights and petty nobles had to obey his orders and, if their actions failed, they had to kneel down and apologize to him. This alone was something he couldn't have imagined a few months ago.

Everything has its pros and cons. Just as he overcame many difficulties through the Dao, and was then forced to explore further, many things are like using poison to treat an illness; once you touch it, you have to bear the consequences.

To avoid dwelling on his unfounded fame, Cesare had to remind himself repeatedly that he was neither a noble nor a military commander. He was merely a nervous, half-baked scholar specializing in folklore. If things went well, he'd dealt with all the trouble he had to deal with, all the people who wanted to harm him were dead, and no old bastards like Urbino were sending him off to war, he'd actually rather be a senior lecturer at the university, teaching only two or three classes a week and having the luxury of fooling around most of the time.

The University of Denton in Oredan is a good one.

Cesar rode to the baggage camp, glanced at Varedo, and soothed him with a long speech, which was nothing more than that he had proved his extraordinary courage, that he had saved the entire army from damage, and that their march was

It was thanks to him that the team was still intact, they were all proud of Valedo, and so on.

Does Varedo believe his words which are full of nonsense, lies and empty talk?

Cesar couldn't be sure. But at least, seeing his attitude, Valedo would no longer worry about him settling accounts with him later.

Of course, Cesar wouldn't liquidate him. For various reasons, among his knights and minor nobles, Varedo was the most trusted. Knight Varedo had not only completely exposed his own secrets, but had also lost all the allies willing to join him in opposing Cesar. Before this incident, this man would have stood up against him out of hope and passion, but now, as long as he handled things properly, he would expect nothing less than his orders.

Finally, to preserve his reputation, he should have read the Military Strategy several times on the way. After all, even if the Governor of Gonzales wouldn't make things difficult for him, the noble officers from Dominica would.

The Gonzales rebels' incursion into the Domini Kingdom gave it ample reason to intervene. Just as Olidan had recently intervened in the siege of Noyen, their presence this time wasn't simply to quell the rebellion or conduct military exercises.

Domini and his group of noble officers had come to Gonzales, purportedly to conduct military exercises with the new class of graduates, but their abilities had long been recognized. Even without this rebellion, they would have been qualified and capable of joining the northern battlefields, just like his pseudo-cousin Garcia. Cesar's bunch of scumbags, either ready to retire to their hometowns or on their way there, were no match for them.

In the end, he had to bite the bullet and deal with it.

......

Ajeh intended to trace Sfrah's past from her earliest memories, the temple of the Kuna people. Many years ago, it was the temple's priest, Girola, who welcomed her into the world and raised her. It was also Girola who, from within her father's cursed body, had warned her to go west.

In the chaotic sea of ​​memories of Sfrahra, Girola lived as a hermit. After his wife's death, he left the palace and lived in a lonely temple by the sea. This place, located further south of Noien, was once the edge of civilization, but now it is a deserted wilderness. It takes nearly half a month to ride from the southernmost tip of the Sanctuary Abyss.

The temple in my memory is located on the cliff. The main body of the building was built by Jirola and his men, and the stone steps from the foot of the mountain to the top were also carved out by him and his men.

Like Sfora, the temple itself is considered to be a child of Girola.

Despite being spring, the mornings near the coast were chilly and bleak. They ate some venison they'd hunted and continued along the route she remembered. The stairway's starting point lay in a narrow valley, its topography and topographical contours clearly defined, but she couldn't reach it. Either the path she remembered led to a dead end, or she'd wandered for ages only to find herself in a place she had no memory of.

When night came, they found a cave to spend the night.

"It's usable." Ajiehe glanced at the wood that Aya brought. Because she couldn't figure out her name, Ajiehe gave her a name herself, which was in line with the naming habits of the Sasule people.

It is indeed too difficult to ask a mute to say her own name, and she is illiterate. Now she can understand what she said only by relying on the memory of the dead Sasule people.

Aya tilted her head to glance at her, then glanced around for a moment, even pacing around the makeshift camp. Realizing she'd found nothing, she couldn't help but frown. Unable to speak, this guy used exaggerated facial expressions to convey his emotions.

"There's no axe here, so you can't chop wood," Ajeh said. "But you can do it with your fists. Go ahead and try it. No one says cursed powers can only be used to kill people."

Aya studied the wood carefully, examining its growth rings and grain, uttering incoherent hums and ahs. After a minute or so, she placed the wood on a flat boulder, arranging it in a seemingly unrealistic position, and then punched it from above. Like the older boys in the tribe who loved to show off their strength, she used exaggerated force, clearly intent on demonstrating her strength. Her movements were brutal, her force uncontrolled, and her fists swerved.

Needless to say, she knocked the slippery wood flying, throwing it several meters away, brushing past Ajeh's face at a very close distance and falling into a thorn bush.

"Go and get some wood for our fire tonight," said Ajeh.

Aya opened her eyes wide, glanced at the thorn bush, then turned her gaze away and blinked twice.

"I know it fell into the thorn bush, but you still have to pick it up." Ajiehe said indifferently.

She pouted, expressing her dissatisfaction, but having failed so many times while challenging herself along the way, she could only dejectedly walk towards the thorn bush and rummage on tiptoe. As a travel companion, Aya was neither good nor bad. Although she had a whimsical personality and would occasionally feel good about herself and try to challenge her authority, after failing, she would listen to her for a long time and never complained or cheated.

After some difficult exchanges during this period, Ajiehe knew that she was now nineteen years old and would have been

She had married a young miner she knew, but since he was dead, the matter was left unresolved. This guy was about the same thickness as her, his face still had a childish look, his neck and jaw were quite slender, and his mouth was always tightly closed in a serious manner, but when there was something wrong,

The mood will be pouted, revealing the willfulness in the bones.

It was obvious that, like all the children in Lower Neuen, she had been helping her parents since she was less than ten years old, so her habits and personality were similar to those of boys. Moreover, she had never known what discipline was, was overly active, and had no idea what self-control was, and would do whatever she wanted.

I used to drink the wine at home secretly since I was a child, but now I will take the initiative to go over anything I am curious about.

Along the way, Aya killed many beasts, most of which she provoked rather than them attempting to prey on them. On the plus side, she was capable of anything, enduring any hardship. She didn't complain about long journeys through the wilderness, and she worked tirelessly. Her brown eyes were resolute and bright, revealing the reason she had dared to pounce on the sword dancer. As her brown hair grew longer, Ajehe tied it into a short ponytail for easier management.

After Aya found the wood, Ajiehe showed her how to apply force and how to observe the wood's grain to find the points and lines that would split it. Later, Ajiehe sat back and watched Aya bend over, studying it endlessly. After trying several times, changing sides and touching the wood several times, she finally split it with her palm.

"She reminds me of the servant who followed me since childhood." A voice said.

Ajiehe exhaled lightly, turned quickly, and reached out, intending to subdue the figure that had appeared out of thin air beside her. However, she reached out empty-handed—nothing. When she turned back in confusion, she sensed a hint of something strange.

Yes, she could feel that person's presence, she could even glimpse him out of the corner of her eye. She knew he was standing beside her, about a step away, but as soon as she turned her head to look, he would disappear, as if his presence depended entirely on whether she was concentrating on looking at him.

“My presence is incomplete around here,” he said. “This is too far from my temple. I don’t usually go this far.”

"Are you Jilola?" Ajiehe raised her eyebrows.

"I can't quite put it that way," Giroir said. "I know that in the future I'll be swallowed up and cease to exist. I belong only to the past. My time was cut off at some point, and I won't move forward any further. Maybe I shouldn't have gone this far. Maybe I could disappear at any moment. After all, I don't know what will happen if I really leave this mountain."

"Then why..."

"To welcome our princess, I suppose," he said. "The Kuna people will be cursed. After a certain time, no more living children will be born. But you are different. You come from after that time, and you are the child of Iskrig."

Chapter 106 Shadows from the Past

Ajeh searched her mind for those fragmented memories, hoping to give him a suitable answer, but she couldn't find any. Although she had seen much, the closer she got to the time of Analik's arrival, the more blurred and indistinguishable her memories became, like the torn pages of a book. "You said you would disappear, but it seems you're already outside the mountain." A thought suddenly occurred to her. "The steps leading up from the base of the mountain are the dividing line."

"I'm standing on the steps," said Girola.

"It has ceased to exist, just like you?"

"No, it is no longer visible in your time, but it is still rooted in the history of the past and will always be here."

"Do you want to show us the rungs that are rooted in the past?"

"You can look at your feet."

Ajiehe lowered her head. The rock she had been sitting on had vanished, leaving a jagged stone staircase beneath her feet. All around her was a blanket of ice and snow, and dark clouds hung low, seemingly hanging over the dry, blackened branches of the trees. The sky was thick with gloom, and the nearby river was nearly frozen, its water dark and silent, a feeling of unfathomable depth.

The river had dried up in her time.

She beckoned Aya, who was looking around curiously, over. She shrugged slightly and trotted after her. It wasn't just the steps that had changed nearby; the vegetation, the climate, even the entire natural landscape had changed. The cliffs and rocks flanking the stone steps made the steps themselves appear completely hidden. They were clearly upwards, yet they felt like they were leading to a dark underground. Ice and snow covered the distant mountains like fish scales, and at first glance, the entire world was a blanket of white.