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

If the body possessed is an old person or a young child, then the created Shadow Heroic Spirit will only be equivalent to an ordinary adult male. However, the dual-wielding warrior that Gal transformed into last time would have inevitably faced a fierce battle if not for the Dragon Armor, which provides near-invincible defense.

If the highly skilled Balan were to be possessed and become a Shadow Heroic Spirit… just thinking about this possibility sent chills down the girl's spine. However, she didn't know how much of the scene she had seen in her dream was real, and she couldn't completely rule out this possibility yet, which was what troubled her the most.

Just then, the firelight flickered in the distance, and a long howl came: "Ah—" The two looked up and saw that the torches were slowly drawing two simple patterns in the air.

Because they couldn't understand each other's languages, Guinevere had agreed on a few simple codes before setting off to pass messages. Seeing the pattern drawn on the other side, she seemed to have found something of value. She exchanged a glance with Musashi, remained vigilant, and walked towards the firelight.

……

P.S.: I've been feeling a bit down lately, and maybe it's because I've been a little bored lately, so my grades have started to drop again... Oh well, I'll try my best to keep updating daily.

Also, to change my mood, I'll probably be updating Qiuye's stuff on and off lately. I finished writing a chapter today, but it needs to be reviewed, so I don't know if it will be released tomorrow... That's about it, goodnight everyone~

Chapter 191 The Possessed (Part 2)

Amidst the long howl, figures gradually gathered.

Knowing that Guinevere and Musashi were both exceptionally skilled, and to avoid potential conflict, Neov specifically appointed Gal, whom they had once saved, as the team leader. As for the other four, although Neov had introduced them by name, their identical metal masks and bodysuits made it impossible to distinguish one from another at first glance. It was unclear whether they also suffered from "face blindness"...

When a person is under a lot of mental tension, strange and uncontrollable thoughts often flash through their mind, and Guinevere is no exception. She walked forward on the thick layer of fallen leaves, surrounded by dim lighting and flickering firelight. These seemingly unchanging scenes, which had remained constant since she entered the portal, caused her mental stress to accumulate.

Not to mention Nieman, whose motives remain unclear, a mysterious enemy, and family and friends whose fates are unknown...

As she walked along, each corpse she discovered weighed heavily on Guinevere's heart. What she was unwilling to admit was the slight sense of relief mixed with her grief after discovering that the dead—both Pictish warriors and Scots—were not people she was close to.

This thought, though understandable, made the girl feel a pang of guilt at that moment. She thought, "I'll come back sometime and give them a proper burial..." These kinds of thoughts swirled in her mind as she walked through a grove of trees. Just a few dozen meters away, she saw the person who had sent the signal.

The number of yellow horizontal stripes on the other person's body should be Jia'er. When she saw her coming, he let out a low growl, raised his torch, and shone it to the side.

In the firelight, a blood-covered figure could be seen lying motionless under a tree a few steps away, unsure if he was still alive. A deep, bone-revealing wound ran down his back, as if caused by a sharp blade, from which blood gushed, staining the surrounding soil and fallen leaves crimson.

But what was even more striking was the black mist clinging to him—thick, dark mist that absorbed all light was slowly climbing up his body, like a giant black python devouring humans, causing them to be reborn prematurely.

"This is... an unfinished Shadow Heroic Spirit?" Musashi leaned down and checked its breath: "Still alive."

“This sword mark seems familiar… wait—” Guinevere also walked over, looking at the man’s profile. Her gaze shifted from doubt to certainty, and then to a hint of astonishment: “He is…” Before she could finish speaking, the wind rustled the leaves, and the sound of the wind echoed in her ears. Something in the air seemed to suddenly tighten.

Alarm bells rang in her heart. The numerous life-or-death battles she had experienced recently had greatly heightened the girl's sense of danger. Her first reaction was to look at the still motionless figure at her feet. She almost thought that her worst-case scenario had come true. She reached out and grasped the sword of light, and the second half of the sentence that had been on the tip of her tongue finally escaped her lips: "...Lord Balan..."

"what!"

"careful!"

A scream came from another direction! Besides the three people here, the other four members of the team were also approaching this direction, the light of four torches flickering behind the trees in the wind. But as the atmosphere around them suddenly changed, the flame in front of the girl abruptly stopped.

Flames don't have a fixed shape, but at this moment, in the girl's vision, the warm red flames seemed to freeze. The sound of leaves rustling, the sound of Musashi drawing his sword, and Gal's roar—all sorts of things mixed together, making the direction of the flames exude an indescribable eeriness.

Swish!

Even though she had pushed the power of the Wind Seal to its limit, Guinevere could only vaguely catch the fleeting sound. The fire suddenly went out, and darkness surged in like a tide. For a moment, she seemed to see countless deformed and terrifying hands grabbing the Pict man whose torch had gone out. Before she could even let out a scream, she was forcibly dragged backward.

Within the forest, the light was dim. The three torches still burned brightly, but they could not dispel the fear in their hearts. Musashi drew his sword and had only taken two steps forward when Gal also took out his hand axe from his waist. The spot where they had been was now empty, without a single person in sight. Only a long trail of blood on the ground and layers of dark red handprints on the nearby trees told them that what had just happened was not an illusion.

Swish!

The sound rang out a second time, but it was much clearer than before. Guinevere's heart skipped a beat, realizing that this meant the distance between them was shrinking. She closed her eyes, not relying on her vision, but instead immersing her consciousness in the surrounding wind—in her mind, a huge scroll was slowly unfolding, depicting all the tangible and intangible outlines of the surroundings without omission.

Got it!

The moment the Sword of Light was drawn, a dazzling light swept out, instantly filling the entire space. She had used this move once before when the three of them went to the abandoned village. Musashi was prepared and was not blinded by the sudden light. As for the Picts' body structure, Gal seemed unaffected. He tightened his grip on his battle axe and rushed over as well.

But at this moment, the girl's attention was entirely focused on the newly appeared enemy. The distance from the slain Pict to her was not long, only about ten meters, but the enemy had just extinguished his torch a second ago, and the next second he was already beside her. This speed could only be described as ghostly.

But whether in her past life or this one, Guinevere has never feared anything like ghosts or gods. She pursed her lips tightly; the shimmering effect after Krausolas infused the sword with magic was merely a bonus, essentially meant to enhance the blade's sturdiness and sharpness. If enough magic were infused into the blade, it could even unleash sword energy, but with her opponent so close, there was no need for a ranged attack. She thrust her sword forward, her wrist twisting unconsciously as she used Nuada's Flowing Sword Intent.

Unlike ordinary vision, the "field of vision" constructed by the wind has no color. Everything around her, even the enemy she is facing right now, is just a series of gray and white outlines in her perception.

The enemy was slender and tall, holding a sharp sword in each hand. He thrust his left sword forward as if to block her attack, but his right arm had already unleashed a light, seemingly insignificant sword light, appearing harmless yet mercilessly slashing towards her throat.

Twin swords... no!

The tip of the sword pierced the back of the opponent's sword, and with a slight bend, the petite figure took the opportunity to retreat, avoiding the decapitating sword. Although even if the sword had hit, it would not have harmed her in the slightest, dodging had already become an instinct of her body. As she and the sword retreated, the light sword light followed closely in front of her, as Jin caught up.

However, at that moment, the other two finally arrived. Musashi swung his sword down, while Garuda slashed horizontally. The opponents seemed to realize that both relied on brute force rather than skill, and instead of directly clashing with the sword and axe, they spun and disappeared like nimble fish, darting away between the blows. The next instant, a ghostly figure appeared behind Musashi, silently descending with both swords!

"drink!"

Within the confined space, light and shadow shifted constantly. Musashi threw out her torch, which blocked the twin swords in mid-air, breaking into three pieces. Sparks flew, and the oil-coated tips still burned for a moment. This brief respite allowed her to free her hands and draw another sword.

Swish!Swish!Swish!

The violent whooshing sound of the slashes even made my eardrums ache slightly. The opponent was clearly at a disadvantage in terms of strength, but with superb skills, the two figures, wielding two swords and two blades, clashed and separated in the unpredictable light and shadow, and neither of them was able to gain the upper hand.

In the blink of an eye, the roles of offense and defense shifted several times. Gal's strength was slightly inferior, and after missing his target with his battle axe, he was unable to intervene in the battle between the two. As for Guinevere, the swordsmanship her opponent had just used, and the familiar sword mark on Balan's back, all these pieces of evidence finally made a certain guess that she had deliberately ignored, dared not and did not want to think about, clear.

She opened her eyes.

Before her, confronting Musashi, was a tall, thin man with a thick beard. Like every corpse she had seen before, the man was covered in blood, looking utterly wretched. His once sturdy armor was now shattered, with broken pieces of iron clinging to his mangled wounds.

That resolute face, those seemingly bottomless green eyes, were so familiar; she had seen them countless times since she gained consciousness in this life.

"Father..."

With a snap, the broken torch fell to the ground, flickered one last time, and went out completely. As the golden light faded from him, a thick, dark fog suddenly surged up behind Leodogran, enveloping him entirely.

In the blink of an eye, what appeared there was a shadow spirit, also wielding two swords, whose body was like black mud!

P.S.: It's a bit short. I originally wanted to write 4,000 words, but I'm going to Guangzhou for a few days tomorrow, so I need to go to bed early tonight... Even though it's almost 2 a.m., for Qingbai, falling asleep before 3 a.m. is considered early!

Goodnight everyone, and remember to vote!

Chapter 192 Shadow and Light (Part 1)

The black mist swirled and then receded in an instant, leaving only a phantom-like black figure where Leodogran had been standing. With the appearance of this shadowy spirit, a sharp killing intent surged forth like a tidal wave, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to darken.

The so-called killing intent is mostly a general term, because a perceptive person can often sense a threat from the other party's words, body language, or even a glance. The interaction of energy between masters is also largely based on this principle.

Of the three, Musashi's reputation as a swordsman was earned through sheer bloodshed and countless battles. While Gal was slightly weaker, Pickett was an elite-level warrior who could hold his own against some of the Knights of the Round Table, even under the command of the future King Arthur. Even Guinevere, who had the least combat experience, had accumulated real experience by facing top-tier opponents along the way.

And that's why, at this moment, all three of them felt an incomparably cold chill. Musashi, wielding her twin swords, changed her expression slightly: "Be careful, he's different from the guys we encountered before—" If she were alone, she might have felt excited, but with several "burdens" around, her words sounded urgent and pressing.

Jia'er roared, as if in response. The muscles and veins in his right arm suddenly bulged, making his arm look much thicker. Seeing that his opponent was still standing still, he threw the axe with all his might, sending it spinning through the air.

On the other side, as the firelight enveloping Musashi completely disappeared, the eerie darkness around her immediately closed in. But she seemed to have sensed it beforehand. With a twist of her body, she caused the strange hands that reached out from several directions to miss their targets. Then, she crossed her two swords, like a beast baring its fangs, and her figure shot out like an arrow, almost following the thrown hand axe, and approached the enemy!

Guinevere then came to her senses.

She thought her missing father had appeared before her unexpectedly in this way. Even though she had considered this possibility, her emotions were still in turmoil when it actually happened.

If it were a girl from six months ago, she might have been flustered or at least somewhat bewildered by this. However, this journey, although it was only a few short weeks, ultimately brought about some changes in her.

Guinevere's gaze swept over the approaching torches—each torch representing a life—and then over the unconscious, heavily wounded knight on the ground. Her eyes hardened.

Whatever happened to the father, the most urgent task is to stop this fight as soon as possible.

Even though Gal has proven that the domain of the Sword of Light can sever the possession of Shadow Heroes, Leodogran just killed a Pict and showed no mercy to Musashi, which is quite different from the serious yet kind and life-loving image she had of him. This seems to indicate that his mental state is not normal. If someone is rashly dragged into the arena of fate, it may very well turn into a situation where one fights two.

If things turn out that way, perhaps only Fafnir's power would offer a slight chance of victory. However, the Dragon Armor is clearly malfunctioning, and Guinevere does not intend to allow it to come into contact with her soul until the matter is thoroughly investigated, lest it cause any irreversible damage.

In a flash, she made her decision. Just then, the rapidly spinning axe reached the shadowy spirit, and Musashi followed closely behind, his aggressive blade gleaming almost completely enveloping the opponent's upper body.

The Shadow Spirit's twin swords also began to move—most dual-wielding techniques involve using one long sword and one short sword, with the long sword being the primary weapon and the short sword serving as a support, and it can also be used to some extent as a substitute for a shield. However, Leodogran's swordsmanship is rumored to have originated from the guidance of a reclusive master, and the twin swords he uses were forged by a famous Scottish craftsman and are of the same length. Although she had only caught a glimpse of them just now, Guinevere recognized these specially made swords.

At this moment, the Shadow Spirit's twin swords had transformed into one long and one short, both shrouded in eerie black mist. With a flick of his left-hand short sword, he effortlessly sliced ​​the incoming battle axe in two. A wisp of the mist clinging to the sword parted and wrapped around the broken axe blade, instantly transforming it into a black shadow that flew backward.

Musashi reacted extremely quickly, suddenly retracting her twin swords and swirling them in front of her to block the two corroded axe blades. However, her forward running was also slowed down. Before her eyes, a sword light that seemed to devour all the brilliance of the world suddenly rose up, which made her heart tremble. She felt that this sword was something she could not catch or avoid, and it was a sure-kill strike!

Musashi wasn't without a backup plan. The Niten Ichi-ryu style is all about adaptability and unconventionality. Her twin swords parried the flying broken axe, and there were at least three possible maneuvers that could have allowed her to switch from defense to offense and gain the upper hand. However, her enemy simply swung his right-hand sword, rendering all her preparations futile.

what happened……

Feeling death close at hand, she felt more intense curiosity than fear. Was it the weapon, or the swordsmanship itself? What was the principle behind it, and why did it give her this feeling? These questions crawled around in her mind like countless tiny insects, but she could only watch helplessly as the dark sword tip drew ever closer, rapidly magnifying in her vision.

Suddenly, in stark contrast to the dark sword before her, a gleaming blade, cracked yet undeterred, emerged from behind her. Tip to tip, a clear, resounding clang rang out. Light and darkness were so distinctly separated at that moment!

The sense of despair, the feeling of having no way to avoid it and only being able to await her fate, vanished with that sword strike. Musashi felt as if something that had been binding her had suddenly disappeared without a trace, and she didn't even know what it was.

"A single strike is fatal, a first strike is sure to win—that's the effect of his sword. It must be some famous demonic sword..." The dark red cloak billowed high as the figure in black armor passed by her shoulder, exchanged blows with the shadow spirit, and then spoke.

This was naturally told to her by Clausolas; Guinevere was merely relaying it. She deliberately tested the waters, and the Sword of Light clashed with the opponent's long and short swords. Sure enough, the moment it touched the blade of the short sword, a wisp of black mist quietly wrapped around it, but before it could touch the Sword of Light, it was easily dispersed by the radiant light.

However, this is because the Sword of Light is a treasure of Danu, and its weapon level is superior to that of the opponent. Musashi and Gal's ordinary weapons would probably be taken away by the opponent in a single battle...

After just one exchange of swords, Guinevere had a rough estimate of the Shadow Heroic Spirit's strength. Although he was formidable, if Musashi and Gal cooperated, the three of them might be able to capture him.

This would tantamount to putting others in danger, and she had no energy left to protect others in a battle of this level. After this fight, not to mention Musashi and Gal, the other three Picts would undoubtedly die. But if she missed this opportunity, would she ever encounter her father so quickly again… and would she still be able to save him?

Time was precious, and she didn't have much time to weigh the pros and cons. The wind around her seemed to become chaotic, and the sunlight, firelight, shadows, and tree shadows were all changing shape. Finally, the girl pursed her lips tightly under her helmet and said, "His magic sword is strange... You take Balanqing and go first. I'll hold him off."

Musashi had just heard her softly call out "Father," and he could see the inner turmoil in the girl's heart. Looking at her profile, he couldn't help but say, "We can try taking a gamble—"

“Human life is at stake.” Guinevere shook her head, and as she uttered those words, she seemed to have realized something, and her voice became firm: “There will be other opportunities in the future. Take the people away first.” As she spoke, she handed her torch to Musashi.

"This……"

"With Krauss around, those monsters can't touch me." As if to prove this statement, even after leaving the area shrouded in firelight, the girl's sword shone brightly, keeping the surrounding darkness several meters away, unable to advance an inch.

"it is good."

Not being one to hesitate, Musashi saw that Guinevere had made her decision and stopped trying to persuade her. He sheathed his sword, took the torch, and saw that Gal had already carried the unconscious knight on his back. With a long howl, the approaching torches stopped and went their separate ways.

Before leaving, Musashi took one last look at the girl: "If you don't come back in three hours, I'll come looking for you."

"Do not worry."

Guinevere waved goodbye, watching the two figures disappear quickly into the distance. Then she turned back to the Shadow Heroic Spirit who stood silently, motionless, as if waiting for her to finish her business, and said earnestly, "I must say, you're truly a competent villain, knowing exactly when to disconnect..."

In her mind, these shadowy spirits possessing living beings were mostly mindless fighting machines, and she had only made a casual remark. Unexpectedly, the dark figure standing under the shade of the tree emitted a hoarse, low voice from its faceless head: "Knight, formidable foe, enjoy—"

The voice sounded somewhat like Leodogran's, yet it was also extremely hoarse and unpleasant, causing Guinevere to pause in surprise. Before she could respond, the shadowy figure raised his twin swords, pointing them at her from afar: "Your father is beyond saving. Go all out, kill me, and take revenge."

"Whether it can be saved or not is not for you to decide." The girl frowned. Although she was startled that the other person could speak, they didn't seem to be able to communicate. Besides, what this person said made her angry: "But if you want to fight, then bring it on!"

……

North of Scotland, at the Antony Wall. The dawn light slightly dispelled the chill of the night. After throwing a tantrum, practically pointing his finger at each of the ministers and berating them one by one, Pat leaned on the table, panting heavily.

He was naturally a womanizer and had a handsome face. He often associated with all sorts of lovely girls—some were village girls he met by chance, some were uniquely charming bards, but most of the time they were noble ladies. He was twenty-four years old this year, but he already had three sons and one daughter.

Of course, in today's environment, it is perfectly normal for someone of that age to have several children. However, Pat is not the type to indulge in pleasure and lose his ambition. Feeling that his health was starting to decline, he began to be more restrained in recent years and also asked the druids to brew some herbal medicine for him to drink daily. His physical strength has slowly recovered.

Compared to others of similar age, however, his physique was rather too thin, a fact that Pat was extremely concerned about. He had privately sought out methods to improve his health, but to no avail. Over time, however, he became acquainted with the druids recruited by Scotland, especially Klark, whom he trusted most, and with whom he was as close as brothers.

At this moment, feeling frustrated, he cursed loudly, leaving only Klark behind. Seeing that he had calmed down a bit, the young druid, who had been knighted by the king three years ago, stepped forward and gave a faint smile: "Prince, while appropriate venting is fine, excessive anger is harmful to your health."

“I know.” Pat let out a long sigh. “I know… but those people are a bunch of useless idiots! If word gets out that Father and Balan are missing, the whole of Scotland will be in trouble, in really bad shape…”

“Indeed, Scotland is in a very dangerous situation right now. But Prince, the so-called crisis is dangerous until it is resolved, but after it is resolved… it will be an opportunity.”

“It has to be solvable.” He shook his head in frustration, then after a few seconds, he suddenly looked up at Klark, who was still smiling. “Wait, I know you never talk nonsense, Klark. So… you have a way to find Father!?”

“Unfortunately, among all the magic tricks I’ve learned, I haven’t been able to find the King of Scotland’s method.” Klark gently stroked a vibrant green leaf, noticing Pat’s sudden drop in disappointment, and chuckled, “But that’s only because I haven’t studied with my teacher long enough, and my skills are limited, so I’m powerless to help. But I happen to know a Druid master whose abilities far surpass mine…”

"Then what are we waiting for! Let's go ask that master for help!" Pat's eyes lit up and he said hurriedly.

Klark shook his head: "The other party has a strange temper. If I go to speak to him, I will most likely not even be able to see him. But if the prince goes in person, with your noble status, you should be able to persuade him to agree to help."

"Should I go there myself...?"

"Exactly."

"But if I leave, there will be no one here to oversee things, and if something happens..."

Seeing Pat's apparent hesitation, the druid smiled slightly, and suddenly tossed out the green leaf he was kneading. It floated and swayed in the air, then, in a flash of green light, transformed into a figure identical to Pat, standing there dumbfounded. Pat stared, wide-eyed: "This is—"

"It's just a trivial little spell. The princess used to use it quite often to sneak out of the palace..."

"Don't mention her in front of me!"

"Yes."

The thought of that figure immediately darkened Pat's expression, and his tone became angry. Klark respectfully responded and then offered a few more words of advice. Seeing that the substitute made of leaves was so lifelike and wouldn't be exposed for the time being, Pat couldn't help but feel a little eager to try it out.

"Then let's hurry and come back. By the way, what's that master's name...?"

Thinking he might have heard of him somewhere, he asked. Klark still had a smile on his lips: "My friend is a loner and doesn't like to interact with people, so the prince probably hasn't heard of him either."

"Tell me about it first, so I can hear it."

"Alright."

A gentle breeze blew, and the sunlight was dazzling. Pat grabbed his coat hanging nearby and put it on as he walked outside. Impatient with Klark's suspenseful behavior, he called out to urge him on. The druid youth followed: "That master's name is Uru. Does the prince remember him?"

"Uru?"