CHAPTER 493: CHAPTER 471: KUSH YOUTH, DEMON HUNTER, AND MIRACLE PRIEST

Stepping on the solid pavement of the harbor, Delawan looked around as he jumped twice.

The pavement was unexpectedly firm, with no shifting at all. As expected of the abode of the Saint’s Grandson, it was extraordinary.

At this landing dock, boxes of cargo stood like low walls along the lakeshore, nearly a hundred porters carrying boxes and sacks, transporting them to carts or wagons.

These goods would go by land to the river (Parra River) banks, and then by waterway to towns.

From the straw peeking out of the wooden boxes, it seemed this box contained wine or ceramics.

Although the Salvation Army had a tendency towards fundamentalism, they didn’t enforce it strictly, only advocating against drinking and levying heavy taxes on luxury alcohol.

So, many regions newly under the Salvation Army’s rule had a peculiar feeling.

This seemingly extremely conservative regime was surprisingly more relaxed and open than normal religious nations.

Looking at the scattered black-roofed, white-walled houses behind the dock, Delawan asked Perini, who was coming down from the bridge, "Uncle Perini, how long will it take to get to town from here?"

"About five or six miles. Pack up your luggage and we’ll walk there." Team leader Perini was also resting with his horse tied to a post.

"Walk again?" McGowan had just come down from the bridge when he heard this dreadful news.

"What’s wrong with a bit of walking?" Delawan looked at the gear-toothed sun flag fluttering at the harbor, feeling a surge of emotion, "The Saint’s Grandson walked seven hundred miles. They even had to face the pursuit of the Enforcer Legion."

This was a narrative in the recent popular "Chronicles of the Saint’s Grandson’s Expedition" in Jinhe Town and Ibe Village, and many priests of the Holy Father Association loved to use it for storytelling.

Compared to the mundane and tedious logs and edicts, these young ones clearly preferred the legendary "Chronicles of the Saint’s Grandson’s Expedition".

"Why are you flattering here? The Saint’s Grandson can’t hear you." Patting his belly fat, McGowan looked sullen.

"My admiration for His Majesty Horn is heartfelt, so what if he can’t hear?" Delawan put his hands on his hips, looking at his companions coming down from the dock, "Just one last stretch and we’ll see our sun, the chosen Pope."

"Oh——" The youths responded weakly.

These Kush youths from the southern part of Langsande County, the Ibe Plain, were mostly between twelve and fifteen years old.

They mostly wore lightweight long-sleeved woolen shirts with short ruffles, with sleeves rolled up, exposing their hairy arms.

Their lower bodies mostly sported loose shorts in earth tones or light gray, and their feet were clad in leather short boots that reached their ankles.

Judging by their attire, they resembled children from wealthy farmer families near the cities rather than nobles.

A closer look at the thick forearms and calloused palms made it clear this group had definitely done a lot of farm work.

Among them were both pure-blood Kush as well as many mixed-bloods and even foreign nobles who adopted Kush names after Horn’s victory.

When it came to determining who was Kush, the grandmother was quite open-minded.

Foreign nobles willing to change their lineage and agree with her were Kush; those pure-blood Kush who didn’t, were considered outsiders.

Thus, in the young eyes of these Kush youths, there was both unrealistic fervor and skeptical fear and distrust.

One hundred Kush youths from the Ibe Plain set foot on the dock, rested for a while, and then set off again at Perini’s call.

Once outside the dock, with few people around, Perini shouted to everyone, "Remember to keep your shields ready; there are Demon Hunters lying in wait on the island, possibly planning to attack us."

"Why?"

"They don’t want us to join His Majesty. The Church is scared."

"Sounds like hypocrisy."

Hearing Perini’s words, the youths loudly discussed in their duck-like voices, showing various expressions but not much fear.

After all, the Knights rose through bravery; these Kush youths had learned to conceal their fear from a young age.

Lugging big bags, the Kush youths formed a long line, dragging their feet as they slowly moved along the road to the town.

They were young and energetic, chatting away as they marched.

"Hey, I heard His Majesty likes to employ young people. Can we join the Child Soldiers or the Loyal Successor Army?" Delawan walked energetically while chatting with his close brothers.

"Only the children of those who died in national service can join the Loyal Successor Army; you can’t be in it, but you can be the father of someone in it."

"Go to hell, I’m going to be a Marshal."

"I heard if we have excellent grades, we can enroll at the Saint Danji War Academy?"

"No, no, no, after graduation, you’ll need to join the army first. Only with outstanding performance can you enter the Saint Danji War Academy; it’s a place for advanced studies, not foundational training," Perini, walking at the front, corrected them quickly, "Once I deliver you, I’ll go study there."

"You’re leaving?" McGowan surged forward a few steps, "Are you just leaving us on the island?"

"What are you talking about?" Perini glared at him, "You’re here for studying, not as hostages."

"Exactly, exactly." Delawan chimed in, making McGowan’s face flush with embarrassment.

The leading monk slowed down, grinning broadly, "Don’t worry, there are other students in the school, everyone is friendly..."

The monk had just said halfway when Perini’s expression changed abruptly, and he kicked the monk’s face fiercely.

In an instant, the monk’s face swelled, yellow teeth flew out of his mouth, and he shrieked in pain, collapsing to the ground.

Several youths were still puzzled by Perini’s swift change in demeanor when they heard a buzzing sound by their ears.

"Arrows, take cover," Perini shouted, and several short arrows with trailing shadows flew past them, embedding into the ground and nearby trees.

Looking at the quivering arrow tail, Delawan suddenly realized: "Shield formation, shield formation, enemy attack!"

"There really are Demon Hunters!"

"Where’s my round shield? Who stole my round shield!"

The youths quickly dropped their luggage, pulled out their round shields, and grouped themselves into sevens or eights, shoulder to shoulder, back to back, raising the shields to their chests and vigilantly scanning their surroundings.

Of course, some were lying on the ground alone, with their heads buried under their knees, trembling with their butts in the air.

Delawan had thought McGowan would be one of them, but unexpectedly, he stood upright, leaning against Delawan’s back, searching for the direction of the enemy.

"Southeast, that bush, the bush by the pond," McGowan shouted.

Sure enough, everyone saw the bush shaking, even revealing half a corner of a garment.

"It’s a Demon Hunter, send the signal!"

A grimacing monk viciously pulled out a signal gun and shot it into the sky. The dye of the red smoke colored the long smoke and appeared in the air.

Perini flipped onto his horse, drew out his Knight’s Sword, and charged towards the bush, but before he had gone a few steps, four or five metal balls rolled out from behind the bush.

"Boom——"

A thick fog burst forth from the balls, instantly enveloping Perini, obscuring even his silhouette.

"Uncle Perini!" Delawan instinctively took a step forward, but McGowan pulled him back by the hem of his clothes.

"Don’t move, that’s a Holy Water Grenade, it won’t affect Uncle Perini." Turning his head, McGowan kicked a boy lying on the ground, "Get into the shield formation quickly, do you want to be captured by Demon Hunters?"

As expected, shortly after the Holy Water fog, the sound of a battle between two people was heard, and just two or three seconds after the signal was sent, the ground trembled again.

At the edge of their vision, seven or eight Holy Gun Cavalry appeared with an extraordinary speed of reaction, charging into the smoke.

Then came the continuous sound of gunfire, and the air filled with the smell of blood.

"This opening ceremony is something, using us as bait to catch Demon Hunters." McGowan tilted his head, looked at the scene over there, and muttered.

This time, Delawan didn’t retort but rather looked at an elder riding over on horseback not far away.

"Is that a Wizard?"

Before his voice had faded, the tall old man stood on the stirrups, began waving the wooden staff in his hand, and as his lips moved slightly, a gentle breeze suddenly arose.

This breeze swept through the Holy Water mist, quickly dispersing the fog of prohibition, leaving only a Demon Hunter with hands bound behind his back, pressed under the knees of several burly men.

The expressions of the youths changed, this was magic, this was definitely magic!

"By the Saint Master, it really is a wizard."

"Why isn’t anyone capturing him, that’s a wizard."

"Is he going to blow us up with the Fireball Technique?"

"He’s with us, if he’s going to blow anyone up, it’d be the Demon Hunters."

The Kush youths forming the shield formation exchanged bizarre glances: "Why does it feel like we’ve become the villains in a Demon Hunter story?"

"A Bishop is still a good guy in Demon Hunter stories, right? Look at what Archbishop Feiliu Bao did? Stories written by the Church aren’t credible." Delawan shook his head fiercely.

"But in that case, doesn’t it mean we’re collaborating with heresy?"

"You don’t get it, do you?" The theory-savvy Delawan laughed, "With the Saint’s Grandson here, we Kush people are the chosen ones.

Other groups fear collaborating with heresy won’t let them ascend to the Celestial Kingdom because they aren’t devout enough.

We Kush are born devout, so even if we’re called the impure ones, as long as we sincerely pray, we can ascend to the Celestial Kingdom, even if we collaborate with heretics.

Even using spells doesn’t matter for us because we’re born pure..."

While Delawan was imparting theological knowledge to them, Patrick had already walked up to them.

Seeing the mysterious former wizard appear before them, even the pretending-to-be-fearless Delawan went silent like a chicken choked by the neck.

The shadow of an enormous figure cast over the youths’ heads, and they didn’t even dare to look up.

Faced with the fearsome wizard, even though his hair was already white, they still huddled together in fear.

"Hmph, a bunch of little ghosts," Patrick admonished the only one puffing out his chest feigning composure, Delawan, "Alright, there were Demon Hunters trying to ambush you just now, the culprits have been captured, you can safely head to school now."

With that, Patrick tugged at the reins and was ready to depart.

Once Delawan confirmed there was no danger, he stepped forward: "Old sir..."

"Hmm?"

Looking at that menacing face, Delawan swallowed a mouthful of saliva: "Are you a wizard?"

"Kid, mind your words." Patrick patted his head, "In the Savior Pope Country, there are no wizards, only Natural Priests.

Under the Natural Priests are divided into Alchemist Priests and Miracle Priests, and I am a bishop-level Miracle Priest."

"Will we learn magic, oh no, miracles, from you?"

"Hahahahaha." Patrick lifted Delawan’s chin with his riding crop, "Don’t rush, among the teachers at Frick Grammar School, there are quite a few of your so-called ’wizards’!"