I, Guinevere, am going to crush you, you curry stick, today!

By the way, during the review process, they displayed a large section labeled as pornographic. After studying it for a while, I realized the problem was with the phrase "half a body was pressed down"...emmmm

Chapter 41 A Battlefield

Whoosh!

A whooshing sound came from afar, and a cold arrow shot towards them. The two figures running through the woods did not stop. Artoria turned around, exchanged a glance with her, and said nothing. Guinevere placed her hand on the hilt of her sword, took two steps forward, and with a "whoosh," the sword light flashed in the air for a moment. The arrow that came towards them was split in two, and it spun in the wind and disappeared without a trace in an instant.

The drawn sword wasn't sheathed; it remained in her hand. Guinevere slowed her pace, waiting for Artoria to catch up so they could walk side-by-side before speaking: "A sneak attack?"

“It doesn’t seem like it.” Artoria hesitated for a moment before denying it. “The arrow must have been shot from outside the forest, and by the time it reached us, it had lost its power… In this kind of rain, at such a distance, even the best archer couldn’t guarantee a hit. Instead, it would make us more alert…” If it were an ordinary person, running at this speed, they might even bite their tongue just by opening their mouth, let alone have a logical conversation like this.

But among the two here, Artoria had learned all sorts of things from Hector since childhood, and now she had strengthened her leg strength with the techniques taught by Merlin. As she ran, she spoke clearly and fluently, without showing any signs of panting or fatigue.

Although Guinevere had never received similar instruction, since she could manipulate the wind to some extent, things became much easier. Otherwise, given her physical condition and unlike Artoria, who had an almost inexhaustible supply of magic power, she would have been left behind long ago if not for the help of the surrounding wind.

"Hmm..." Just as she was about to say something, Guinevere suddenly tilted her head: "There's a sound outside the woods, it's the sound of fighting, and it sounds like someone is shouting over there..."

Being in the rain not only limited her vision but also greatly impaired her hearing, so she couldn't make out what the person was shouting. This, however, reduced the likelihood of an ambush even further. Puzzled, she heard Artoria whisper something, seemingly talking to the little girl she couldn't see—Nemia. She leaned closer and asked, "What are you saying?"

Artoria looked over with a hint of helplessness.

Just now, Nemia asked, "Artori, what are you talking about?"

"Artori?"

"Isn't this...your name?" Nemia asked timidly. She had clearly said Artoria, so how did it suddenly become Artori? But she didn't have the mind to correct the other's understanding at the moment. As for this strange little girl, Artoria was also somewhat wary and didn't reveal too much information, simply saying, "It's okay, don't worry."

"Oh."

The response was very obedient, but a hint of unease could also be heard in it. Nimiao didn't say anything more after that, but lay on her back and muttered to herself, "Over there, it smells so good... there's something delicious... something delicious."

Having ventured deep into the forest, it felt like they had covered a considerable distance, but now that they were leaving, the journey seemed much faster than the way in. Soon, they passed a large tree laden with some kind of red berries. Through the cover of several smaller trees, a clearing could still be seen beyond the forest.

On the open ground, men and horses were scattered, as if a fierce battle had just taken place. Two horses lay on the ground, one headless, blood gushing from the severed neck, the other seemingly still breathing, occasionally twitching, its body covered with wounds of all sizes.

A man lay dead beneath the horse, clad in light armor, a broken spear embedded in his back. Besides him, several other corpses lay scattered around, all with gruesome deaths. One had his head blown off, another's neck snapped, hanging from a tree branch, his chest caved in, broken bones piercing through, blood gushing forth. A gust of wind blew, causing the corpse to sway, its ankles occasionally striking a nearby bow with a soft click.

"Wow……"

Repulsed by the bloody scene, Guinevere looked away immediately, her expression conflicted. Artoria, on the other hand, seemed relatively calm—it wasn't the first time she'd witnessed such a sight.

Near the town where she lived with her adoptive father and brother, there was a vast forest. For many years, hunters had entered the forest to hunt, returning only with the necessary amount of meat and fruit. Humans and nature coexisted in a certain sense. But starting last year, Saxon scouts began appearing in the forest. At first, lone hunters disappeared and were killed. Later, even young girls who were out of town were forcibly abducted. Several days later, their bodies were found on the edge of the forest. Even though Artoria was still confused about all of this, she could somewhat imagine what had happened to those abducted girls.

After that, she, along with Kai, the town's apprentice knights, and other passionate young people, spontaneously organized themselves to patrol the town and even the forest. During this time, they clashed with Saxon scouts several times, resulting in casualties on both sides. It was during that period that Artoria's hands were stained with the blood of fellow human beings for the first time.

Fina has never killed anyone, which means she hasn't experienced anything like that yet... That's wonderful. She always thought this when she heard about Fina's happy and wonderful life.

It turns out that in this country, on this island, there is such a place, and people who can live so happily and joyfully.

That's really...wonderful.

……

The two tidied up the battlefield briefly. After checking everything, Artoria found that only one horse was still alive, and it was seriously injured and obviously beyond saving.

Looking at the horse's pained eyes, she hesitated for a moment, but ultimately killed it with a single sword stroke.

Guinevere didn't witness this scene firsthand—perhaps due to the influence of the more than twenty years of peace in her previous life, although she loved swordsmanship and enjoyed sparring with others, she always stopped short of serious matters. She avoided anything that went further, involving bloodshed or even death, and tried her best not to get involved. But along the way, she understood how much Artoria loved horses, and even if she swung her sword to end the other's suffering, her mood was probably not very good.

Having something else on her mind, she didn't stay there but left temporarily. When she returned, her face was serious. Artoria squatted beside the corpse whose helmet had been blown apart. She looked up. In this torrential rain, although they were wearing cloaks, they were basically useless. They were soaked to the bone, and the rain seeped into their clothes from the cuffs and collars, chilling them to the bone.

But at this moment, Guinevere was no longer thinking about any of those messy things.

With a somber expression, she walked over and asked, "Al, did you find anything?"

Artoria nodded and stood up. She picked up the longsword beside the corpse and handed it to Guinevere: "Look at this, the emblem on the hilt."

“…It looks familiar.” Guinevere looked closely and answered uncertainly.

"Sir Tristan and the knight he killed both had the exact same emblem."

"what do you mean……"

“These men should be King Marco’s subordinates, and… they should all be officially knighted. Look here, here, and here…”

As she spoke, Artoria pointed to several locations where traces of battle remained, trying to reconstruct the fight: "Their opponent might have been just one person."

Realizing the implications, Guinevere was speechless for a moment. After a brief pause, she said, "To fight against so many, and kill several full-fledged knights... who could have done it?"

"I don't know." Artoria stretched out her left hand, as if grasping something nonexistent, and shook her head, her expression not good. "You, me, and Sir Tristan can all do this. But in other words..."

“Anyone capable of doing something like this by themselves is definitely no less capable than me or you,” Guinevere added.

"Yes. And look here, there's blood left over. If I'm not mistaken, that person was injured, and the injury wasn't minor—"

Noticing the person being held down was still struggling, Artoria glanced down. Nemia shuddered; for some reason, she was incredibly thirsty and wanted to drink a little blood. With so many dead people and animals, surely this tough older sister wouldn't mind if she drank a little? She naively thought this, but just as she was about to pounce, a hand suddenly landed on her head. She didn't dare resist—in the end, she could only pout and say, quite aggrievedly, "Thirsty…"

Artoria watched her quietly.

She had approached the corpse because of thirst, and in that state, if she hadn't stopped her, it might have already bitten down, just like when it tried to bite her neck when they first met... Thinking of the bloodstains on Nimiao's teeth and the bits of flesh between them, her heart sank, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she asked Guinevere, "Fina, I remember we still have some wine left from last time, right?"

"Wine?" Guinevere was taken aback by the question.

“It’s not that I want to drink it,” Artoria explained.

"Oh……"

Guinevere suddenly realized, and looked at Artoria's left hand as well, but still couldn't see anything: "I have bad news for you about this. To avoid getting lost, I left the stone with the sword mark in that hut. Until recently, I could clearly sense the stone's presence, but the moment we came out of the forest, the presence suddenly disappeared. I went to check it out. And then I discovered..."

He paused for a moment: "The place is now completely empty. The hunter's hut, the bone bird's corpse, Ete, and all the things we left in the hut are gone..."

P.S.: I originally wanted to update twice a week, but I wasn't feeling well, so I decided to combine the 1,000+ words from the second chapter into one 3,000-word chapter.

After that, I'll try my best to update once or twice a day until it goes on sale, either one chapter of over three thousand words or two chapters of four or five thousand words. I'll try to write a climax before it goes on sale, which should be soon...

Chapter 42 Pursuit and Search (Part 1)

"found it--"

"People are here!"

"Don't let him escape!"

The chaotic sound of horses' hooves grew closer, encircling us from all directions. The men's shouts pierced through the rain, carrying tension and joy, and for a moment, gave one the illusion that the whole world was against them.

He leaned against a tree, struggling to regulate his breathing. An arrow had grazed his face, leaving it bloody and staining his reddish-brown beard crimson. His right hand gripped the sword hilt tightly, as if glued to it, impossible to separate them. His armor was torn in several places, blood mingling with rainwater, making him look extremely disheveled.

But behind this tragic scene lies the loss of nearly twenty lives.

He fought his way through, changing horses twice and losing more than ten spears. His personal sword had also broken not long ago. The sword he was using now was stolen from an enemy—its original owner was long gone. The emblem representing King Marco was prominently displayed on the hilt.

King Marco...

The middle-aged man with a thick beard closed his eyes, and when he thought of that name, his expression turned somewhat gritted, but a look of confusion and struggle suddenly flashed in his eyes.

He closed his eyes, darkness engulfing him, but his hearing simultaneously sharpened. Horses charged from his rear; a seasoned warrior, the middle-aged man could almost clearly picture the hooves landing, splashing water everywhere. There was no sound of swords being drawn; the attackers must be using spears. Closer, closer still…

With a sudden turn, the sword's edge flashed coldly in the wind and rain—the burly figure clashed with the galloping warhorse, and in an instant, with several dull thuds, the knight's left-hand shield shattered into pieces, and his spear and severed wrist flew from his other hand. Amidst the raging rain and wind, the middle-aged man reached out and grabbed the knight's helmet, pulling it off with a mighty tug. He then leaped onto his horse, and with another swift stroke, killed the knight who was trying to rise.

In the blink of an eye, he killed and stole the horse, his movements executed with practiced ease, as if he had rehearsed countless times beforehand. However, this action reopened the wound on his abdomen. The middle-aged man yanked the reins, urging the horse forward at breakneck speed, the gushing blood staining the horse's back crimson…

His strength waned with each drop of blood, and the constant rain caused his body temperature to plummet. His head was spinning, and he couldn't think straight. He knew that even if he survived this time, he would likely fall seriously ill afterward and wouldn't be able to exert his full strength for at least three to five years… What worried the middle-aged man even more was that none of his companions, who had agreed to meet him here, had shown up. He didn't know what had happened to them.

The moment the news leaked and Marco's men besieged him, he knew there was a traitor among his own men. But only a handful of people knew they would meet here, all of whom were his most trusted friends and confidants. They would never betray him... He wanted to believe that, but how could he explain the current situation if that were the case...?

Two more riders charged at him. He parried the blow with his sword, then slit one man's throat with a backhand stroke; the head rolled to the ground. The other man's helmet was then ripped off, his nose smashed with a punch, and his body lurched a few steps off the horse, hanging precariously on its back. The middle-aged man didn't look back. He continued onward, moving further and further away from the two horses carrying the dead, his head feeling increasingly dizzy…

anyway……

He clung to his last breath, trying to stay conscious. The only way out of this predicament was to seek help from the powerful witch, Gretel, the Lady of the Lake. Before that, he absolutely could not lose consciousness… absolutely could not…

boom!

A dull thud as something heavy fell to the ground.

……

"Aite is missing!?"

Upon hearing the news, Artoria showed obvious panic for the first time. She took a step forward, her hands unconsciously landing on Guinevere's shoulders with such force that the latter felt it wouldn't be surprising if she had left finger marks. She let out a soft breath, not showing the pain on her face: "Yes. The horse, the house, the bone bird—everything is gone. And there's no trace of magic at the scene, so we can preliminarily rule out illusions or other magical influences..."

"This..." Her emotions came and went quickly. In those few words, Artoria had calmed down a bit. Then, noticing that she was holding onto the other person tightly, she quickly let go: "I...I'm sorry."

“It’s alright.” Normally, Guinevere might have teased her with a few jokes, but she wasn’t tactless, and she restrained herself this time: “I know Aet is like family to you, and it’s understandable that you’re panicked when he suddenly disappears. But based on the bone bird you just saw, and this little girl named Nimiao you met, I have a guess…”

"You mean, it's possible they're still there, you just can't see them?" Artoria immediately realized what was going on, and Guinevere nodded in response to her question.

"I'll take you to confirm."

Having said that, she turned around, about to walk forward, but suddenly looked in another direction, blinked, and turned in a third direction. Artoria watched her companion spinning in circles like a top, carefully choosing her words: "Fenna, let me lead the way. I remember the general direction..."

Could it be that Fina went to the wrong place?

Although as a knight one should not, theoretically one should not doubt one's comrades, Artoria couldn't help but have some doubts.

Nemia, biting her finger, was completely focused on the raindrops around her. She secretly scooped some up with her hand, and seeing that Atori didn't stop her, she drank it. The first time, it didn't taste like much, but the second time, it seemed to have become a little sweet. It was sweet, and although not as delicious as drinking it straight, it seemed to make her less thirsty afterward…

A sweet scent wafted through the air, it seemed to be... over there. Just as she was about to tell the older sister next to her, who was stubbornly refusing to bite, she saw her already walking in that direction. Was she going to abandon her? Although she thought this, after taking a few steps, Artori suddenly turned back and waved at her.

Nimiao then gave a big smile, ran over, and jumped into the other person's arms, nuzzling him a few times.

Ok.

Besides her neck, the front of her breasts was also very hard.

……

P.S.: A minor anomaly appeared in this era without your noticing. Because Qingbai kept his identity hidden and quietly cut down the Imagination Tree, you may not have noticed. As evidence, you can check the chapter titles from yesterday and the day before.

Think back, isn't it different from before? These are some of the subtle changes after the restoration of human order!

Chapter 43 Pursuit and Search (Part 2)

"How many is this now?"

Along the way, they frequently saw several corpses lying by the roadside or under trees. Their deaths were far from pleasing; most had been killed by sharp weapons, some with large, caved-in areas in their vital parts, as if struck hard by a strongman with a hammer… What Guinevere found most unbelievable was Artoria's subsequent conclusion:

"These... must be the result of being punched."

"Fist...fist?"

Upon hearing this description, Guinevere immediately thought of releasing magic. If Artoria went all out, she could probably achieve the same feat—although she felt that Artoria would definitely not use such a barbaric fighting method.

But if it was enhanced with magic, there should have been some magic residue left. Yet she didn't detect any such traces at all, which meant that the person who killed them simply used brute force to deform the armor and helmet, and shock the wearer to death... She bit her lip, feeling utterly incredulous.

I thought that, looking across the entire island of Britain, only Gawain, that white-horse king gorilla, could do something like this...

Gawain was the eldest son of King Loth of Orkney. This Orkney, however, was not the Orkney Islands of Guinevere's previous life, but rather a landmass located between North Wales and Scotland. King Loth was a brave and skilled warrior who forged a deep friendship with the King of Scotland during the fight against the Picts. Therefore, when Guinevere was just learning to speak, she already knew Loth's three children of similar age: her eldest son Gawain, her second son Gahoris, and her youngest sister Gareth.

Of the three, she was closest to Gareth, the kind of friend who could talk about anything. Next was Gahoris, but this wasn't because she had any prejudice or grudge against Gawain. It was simply because... in the eyes of a transmigrator who had lived in a coastal city of the Great Foodie Country for more than twenty years, Gawain's cooking method of mashing and steaming the food with the skin on was simply... no, it was simply wasting food!

"You are desecrating the noble soul of the potato!"

For this reason, she challenged Gawain countless times from childhood, and made a promise that as long as she won once, Gawain would never be allowed to make such a terrible thing again for the rest of his life—Guinevere resolutely refused to admit that this lump of stuff was the so-called mashed potatoes—but until she was driven south by her father to join in the fun, she never managed to beat Gawain.

But she firmly believed that she would win one day.

In order to liberate the noble and pure souls of the potatoes!

Perhaps because of the sound of wind and rain around her, her thoughts kept inexplicably drifting elsewhere. Guinevere shook her head, snapping back to reality and no longer recalling that "humiliating history of defeat." She looked up and saw two horses approaching, one of which had a person sitting on it, but something seemed a little out of place.

The other person was slumped over the horse's back, blood staining it crimson; he was clearly dead. Guinevere was about to ask the still-seat person a question when suddenly a hand reached out and blocked her view: "Al?"

"Don't look."

Artoria said this, then said "Oh," and stopped moving, quietly listening as the two horses slowly walked past them, gradually heading back the way they had come. The slow, rhythmic sound of their hooves echoed in the wind and rain, eerily quiet. Only after Artoria withdrew her hand did Guinevere ask, "What happened?"

"That person... has no head."

"what……"

Realizing the reason for that slight disharmony, Guinevere couldn't help but shiver and move a little closer to the side. It was a dark and windy night, and she was in what seemed like an endless downpour. Even though her body was soaked through, it was still icy cold. The contact with her skin always brought a sense of warmth to her heart.

Neither of them spoke. The two walked quickly in silence, and after a while, a blurry outline emerged in the darkness. It was a man, who seemed to have been through a fierce battle—or perhaps more than one. His armor was shattered and clung to his body with blood. He lay sprawled on the ground, his face obscured, only bright red blood flowing continuously from his lower abdomen, forming a small stream.

This was already the umpteenth corpse she'd encountered today… That was what she was thinking at first, but then Guinevere suddenly paused: “Wait, he seems to still be breathing?”

Finally, I've met a living person!

Overjoyed, she didn't wait for Artoria's reply and hurried forward. She only heard Artoria say something behind her, but didn't quite catch it before she was beside the crouching figure. A gust of wind whistled past her ear: "Be careful!"

The warning sounds behind her seemed to slow down considerably. Guinevere felt a sudden darkness before her eyes as a shadow loomed over her. The burly figure, who should have been unconscious, suddenly sprang up, his killing intent surging, and delivered a powerful punch straight to her face!