Wandering Swordsman |

Before long, a woman dressed in a long black robe entered the hall, led by a guard.

Her face was completely covered by a plain silver mask, revealing only her eyes—cold and deep, like cold iron buried at the bottom of an ancient well for thousands of years.

Her steps were silent, yet each step seemed to tread on people's hearts, causing the guards on both sides to unconsciously take a half step back and even hold their breath.

Loren forced himself to remain calm, rose, and bowed: "I wonder what brings the Holy Envoy here so late at night?"

"Faceless" did not reply.

She slowly raised her hand, her fingertips gently brushing against a badge engraved with thorns and scales at her waist—the insignia of the Inquisitor, symbolizing "purification of sins with fire and judgment of falsehoods with blade."

Then she spoke, her voice as flat as ice water dripping onto stone steps:

"The eight hundred cavalrymen under the former lord Ruolan were all wiped out in the northern wilderness. Corpses lay everywhere, and not a single horse survived."

She paused, her gaze sharp as a knife, piercing Loren's eyes. "—How did they die?"

In an instant, Loren felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

The image of that night, with its blood-soaked mist and silver robes stained with the sunset, suddenly flashed before his eyes—the two "wandering knights" stood before eight hundred corpses, their robes fluttering, like gods and demons. He had thought the matter had faded away with the wind, unknown to anyone, and that no one dared to investigate.

But now, the Vatican has actually sent inquisitors of heresy!

She was clearly after those two... She must have known something beforehand!

If I admit to having contact with them, wouldn't I be putting myself in danger? But if I deny it... since she's already come to my door, she probably already has clues!

Loren's Adam's apple bobbed as he suppressed his heart palpitations, feigning confusion as he asked, "Since the Holy Envoy has come specifically to see me, he must already have the answer—why ask me again?"

After he finished speaking, the hall fell into a deathly silence.

After a long silence, she spoke again, her tone chillingly calm: "Where did they go?"

The voice wasn't loud, but it was like a cold blade scraping bone, each word drilling into the eardrums and reaching straight to the heart.

The candlelight in the hall seemed to be pressed down an inch by an invisible force, the light and shadow dancing on the "Faceless" silver mask, reflecting a cold, emotionless glow. The air was stagnant, as if breathing were a sin.

Loren felt his back was soaked with cold sweat and his fingertips were icy cold.

He knew full well that the Inquisitors held a special charter from the Papacy, which allowed them to make on-the-spot judgments on any nobleman below the rank of viscount who was suspected of "heresy," without having to report it to higher authorities.

Although he was the lord of Ruolan, his title had not yet been officially recognized by the royal family, and his life and death were in the hands of the other party.

To reveal their whereabouts would be a betrayal of trust; to deny it outright might anger the woman and lead to her death...

At the critical moment, Loren suddenly lowered his eyes, revealing a perfectly timed bitter smile, his voice low and sincere:

"Your Excellency is wise—those two men never entered Ruolan, nor did they leave their names or mention their whereabouts. I intended to investigate, but…" He paused, looking up at "Faceless," his eyes filled with helplessness and awe, "You also know of the annihilation of eight hundred cavalrymen by these two. When they left, their clothes were spotless, their steps as swift as the wind; none of my soldiers dared to pursue them. How could I, a mere lord of a border town, dare to stop them? How could I dare to question them?"

He bowed slightly, his tone becoming increasingly humble: "However... I did see those two heading west, most likely towards the Tsarist Empire."

These words were perfectly watertight.

They neither denied the contact nor shifted the blame to the "unstoppable" reality; they neither fabricated lies nor cleverly guided the conversation—directing the "Faceless's" attention to the more distant Tsarist Empire, rather than to their own small town.

"Faceless" stood still for a moment, his gaze beneath the mask like a deep abyss.

Finally, she slowly turned around, her black robe silently brushing the ground, as if the night itself were moving.

"Remember," she whispered before leaving, her last words carrying the weight of a mountain, "if you conceal even a single word, not only you, but the entire Ruolan City... will be wiped off the map."

As soon as the words were spoken, the person disappeared into the night, leaving only the cold wind whipping up the curtain and making a rustling sound.

Loren's legs went weak, and he almost collapsed to the ground.

He leaned on the table, breathing heavily, feeling as if a huge rock was pressing on his chest.

After a long while, Loren finally calmed down. He looked westward, his eyes filled with complex emotions, a mixture of lingering fear and guilt.

"My two benefactors..." he murmured softly, his voice barely audible, "may you go far enough and leave this place of trouble soon."

Outside the window, the crescent moon hangs like a hook, illuminating the deserted street.

As the wind blew, a distant sound of swords seemed to echo, yet it also seemed like an illusion.

The border pass of the British Empire was called "Dragon's Mouth," which was flanked by two mountains and could only allow one vehicle to pass at a time.

The towering stone walls were covered with iron spears, watchtowers stood in rows, and patrolling soldiers in heavy armor scanned every passerby with eyes like hawks.

Ordinary business travelers had to undergo three document checks and five body searches, and if there was any suspicion, they would be arrested and questioned.

However, when Shen Mo, Hua Tianyou, and Albert rode up to the pass, Albert simply tossed up the diamond identity token that proved his seven-star status, then pressed it against his chest—

The entire pass fell into a solemn silence, as if the tide had receded.

The centurion guarding the pass rushed down the steps, knelt on one knee, head bowed, his voice trembling: "Greetings, Lord Albert!"

Behind him, more than a hundred soldiers knelt down in unison, their armor clanging and the sound echoing through the valley.

Even the archers on the city wall put away their arrows, as if the token itself were an inviolable divine decree.

Hua Tianyou and Shen Mo followed behind Albert with their heads bowed, disguised as two silent attendants, dressed simply and even deliberately covered in dust.

Even so, no one dared to give them a second glance—for the name of the Seven Stars had long surpassed titles and military power in this land, becoming almost a belief in the strongest fighting force in the world.

"Let them through!" the centurion shouted, his voice tinged with awe. "Open the gates! Clear the way!"

The heavy iron gate rose with a roar, its rusted hinges emitting a deep, dragon-like sound, as if the entire mountain gate was bowing to the visitors.

The soldiers on both sides stood with halberds in hand, their armor imposing, their eyes lowered, and even their breathing was extremely soft—not out of courtesy, but out of a deep-seated awe.

The seven-star diamond plaque affixed to Albert's chest gleamed with a cold luster in the setting sun, even more unsettling than the imperial flag.

The three rode slowly, their hooves making a crisp sound, echoing through the narrow stone canyon walls like the ringing of bells and chimes.

The wind rushed in from the valley entrance, stirring up sand and withered leaves, yet dared not brush against their clothes, as if even heaven and earth knew—this was the passage of the Seven Stars, and mortals retreated.

After traveling ten miles, into the vast wilderness where dusk was falling, Hua Tianyou gently reined in the horses, turned to look at Albert, and sighed softly with a hint of undisguised surprise in his eyes: "Albert, I never imagined that the name 'Seven Stars' could make the Imperial border troops bow down like slaves."