Comprehensive network wizard, magic emperor.

Chapter 270 The Great Journey to Save the World
The Imperial Army was stationed outside Stone Tower Town, where soldiers pitched their white cotton tents, resembling a mushroom grove in the countryside. Every day at dawn, officers led their soldiers in drills, often attracting women and children from nearby towns to watch.

As the oracle was proclaimed in the church in Shita Town, martial law was imposed on the military camp, prohibiting soldiers from leaving their tents and tourists from visiting.

The sentry stood under his lantern, gazing into the chilly early spring night. In the distance, he saw a group of people in cloaks walking towards Shita Town.

They drew near, their faces appearing in the light. The sentry's warning shouts were muffled in his throat. He trembled with fear, knelt down, and cried out in prayer, "Miracle, my Lord!"

Faint coughs drifted through the military camp. These soldiers had clearly not escaped the disease either.

As soon as the resounding bugle call sounded, the young major sat up abruptly, dressed, strapped on his holster, and rushed out. He saw soldiers gathered under the night sky, all kneeling on the ground, bathed in the light of the moon above and below. The soldiers laid their weapons out on the ground, their bent knees forming a circle around a masked figure wearing a pale gray cloak.

Even when facing Emperor Kening, the soldiers only needed to salute or kneel on one knee.

When the major was knighted and knighted, he knelt on a cushion and bowed to Cohen Evan. He still remembers his performance at the time: steady hands and feet, a taut face, not intimidated by the supreme authority, and with the integrity of a soldier.

He recognized the figure being worshipped by the soldiers, the deity of the state religion, the vessel of miracles and truth on earth.

The father told the major that his other identity was the night watchman of Stone Tower Town. The major had also pretended to be sick to go to the lighthouse to observe him up close. He was a foreigner, flesh and blood, who needed to eat, spoke gently, and had strange eyes.

This ordinary doctor brought the major's father the most perplexing, shocking, and despairing defeat of his life. When arranging for the major to lead his troops to garrison Shita Town, the general repeatedly instructed him not to regard the miracle worker as human, but to fear him more than he feared imperial power.

The major despised imperial power because the people of the Sail Islands had been deceived by ambitious men, missed the opportunity to abandon the monarchy, and were left behind by the wave of social change around the world. He believed that in a few generations, the consequences of this regression would become apparent, and the motherland would become extremely weak and be slaughtered by powerful nations.

But he abhorred theocracy even more. It was a more ancient and corrupt form of rule than the monarchy; the bones buried in the dustbin of history should not have been resurrected, yet they were brought to the stage by heretics who proclaimed themselves gods. The emperor, nobles, and priests—these spineless cowards—succumbed to fear, helping to deceive the people and leading the country into an even more unpredictable abyss.

Facing the miracle worker who bestowed medicine under the moon and the disciples of the lighthouse, the major stood in the night wind, his back straight. He was the only soldier still standing, with a flagpole towering behind him and a flag fluttering in the wind.

All one thousand soldiers took the concocted medicine, and their coughing and wheezing stopped. They obeyed orders and got up one after another to return to their tents to rest. They turned back to look at Miracle's figure with reluctance, but no one paid attention to the major.

The witch, holding a bowl of soup, approached the young, angry soldier. A smile graced her aged face, conjured by a spell. "Drink it, young man. After you drink it, you won't be afraid of getting sick."

"You broke into the military camp at night." The major stared straight ahead, his gaze fixed on the three-eyed skull.

"Oh!" The witch's smile vanished. She turned to the high priest and shouted, "This child refuses to drink his medicine!"

The major frowned slightly as he watched the Miracle Walker approach him step by step. His face tightened, his hands clenched, and he stared intently at the man, saying in a low voice, "I know your true identity, and I've seen you before."

The lighthouse keeper raised his hand and removed the mage's mask, revealing a foreign face. His pupils had a bright ring around the edge, and his eyes were bright, reflecting the major's stubborn expression.

Lin Bo said softly, "You've caught a disease. Here, drink your medicine."

“I fear you more than the plague.” The major was not yet thirty, younger than Viren Pearl. “I don’t understand what you’re going to do, but you’ve brought back historical garbage. It took humanity nine thousand years to get rid of the gods, and reason has only been awakening for three centuries, and you’re going to strangle it.”

He continued, “You are merely a powerful man who wields strength. After you die, the people will bear the consequences of everything you have done and the bitter fruits you have left behind. You are destined to be a sinner.”

The major spoke rapidly, sweat beading on his forehead, his hands clenching into fists. When he finished speaking, having kept these words bottled up inside all winter, he suddenly relaxed, straightened his back, and prepared to face his death.

Upon hearing this, some of the lighthouse disciples laughed, some remained silent, and some glared angrily. Only the Grand Wizard remained calm, took the bowl of soup from the witch's hand, and said softly once again, "Drink it. I won't harm you."

He held the bowl with both hands, a smile playing on his lips.

The major knelt on the cushion, and the expressionless Corvin Evan raised the ceremonial sword, tapped his shoulders with the blade, and announced the investiture decree, demanding his eternal loyalty to the emperor.

Now, the island's deities are offering him medicine and urging him to accept treatment, without asking anything in return.

The major's anger and passion, however, vanished like a hurricane that couldn't cross the mountains.

He asked incredulously, "You're not going to kill me?"

"I'm here to save you."

"Why……"

The major could no longer maintain his steady hands; his fingers trembled as he took the soup bowl and swallowed it mouthful by mouthful. The warm medicine entered his stomach and spread to his limbs and bones, soothing his itchy throat and gradually cooling his hot blood.

“Bosch Pinar, I have a favor to ask you,” the Night’s Watchman said.

The major returned the soup bowl, lowered his head, and said, "Go ahead and speak."

"I am unable to travel far. Please lead your soldiers to protect my disciples and followers, and travel to every town and village in the Sail Islands, to all the infected areas, to deliver medicine to every patient."

“…Yes, sir.” The major raised his head. “We are not on the same path. But on this matter, I want to go with you.”

"Thank you." The Miracle Walker patted his chest in thanks.

The young soldier raised his hand in return.

As dawn broke, Shita Town returned to its usual appearance. Martial law was lifted, and people continued their normal lives.

In front of the church, a procession was gathering: the old priest and several members of the order, the archmage's disciples, a shepherd, a barber, a grocer, and a mechanic. An oxcart was carrying a cauldron of magic medicine, and two seagulls with magical eyes stood majestically on the ox's back.

Amidst cheers from the crowd, they arrived at the outskirts of the military camp. The major led five hundred soldiers to join the ranks, and together they marched in a grand procession toward Jinbei City.

The more densely populated an area is, the more severe the disease outbreak becomes. Conversely, villages with poor transportation are safer during this time of epidemic spread.

The Sail Islands have a population of over twenty million, and a single cauldron of miraculous medicine is enough to feed everyone.

This will be a long journey, a period of arduous practice, filled with unexpected events and hardships, but no one in the group feels daunted. For when they call upon the name of miracles, and the messenger seagulls open their foreheads and eyes, the incarnation of the gods will descend to earth, and mountains and rivers will open a path, and all living beings will bow down.

(End of this chapter)