The journey of dragon transformation starting from Demon Slayer

However, they may not know that this is poison wrapped in sugar, a deception to confuse their minds.

In Zang Yan's view, these bodyguards are just prepared baits left for the bugs. They can help with chores and provide X fluid and flesh.

Once they are no longer of any use, only death awaits them.

In this regard, the status of Matou Tsuruno and those bodyguards is actually similar.

But compared to those corrupt bodyguards with decadent private lives, Tsuruno, as an assistant, is still quite decent in Tatsumi's opinion. Of course, this is only from Tatsumi's perspective.

After all, as a magician, Tsuruno has no qualifications to speak of. Also, as a descendant of a declining magic family, his physical fitness is very poor.

The only thing he could show off was his wealthy family background and the countless money that he didn't have to worry about.

Maybe he had been a playboy in the past, but now that he is married, Tsuruno has lost the vigor and vitality of his youth under the torture of Zouken.

Of course, it might be a bit rude to say that he couldn't get hard, but Tatsumi could see that Tsuruno didn't have much desire for love right now.

The reason why he asked He Ye to dismiss the bodyguards was because he needed order, an order that could make him calm.

Maids and the like could stay to take care of the house, and bodyguards seemed completely redundant to him.

In that case, it would be better to send them all away.

Seeing Tatsumi's arrangement, Tsuruno paused for a second and then lowered his head and responded.

"As you command! King..."

"Well, go ahead! This kind of thing is not difficult for you to do..."

Following the lingering sound of Tatsumi's voice, Tsuruno slowly stood up, turned around and walked towards the gate step by step.

This kind of work is not only easy to do, it is easy.

He originally thought that the heroic spirit would be difficult to serve, but he did not expect that serving this person would bring him a completely different kind of enjoyment.

He would neither put pressure on others without reason like Zōu Yūan, nor would he punish others without reason.

Compared with Zangyan, the difference is like heaven and earth.

Seeing Tsuruno leave, Tatsumi, who was sitting in his seat, shook his head, took out the "World Encyclopedia" from the treasure house, and began to look up the information he needed.

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The author's first hero in fgo is Black Jeanne, and she was drawn with one shot.

"The saint has only kindness, humility, honesty, simplicity, and faith in her heart."

"Yes, that's all."

This sentence comes from a certain scholar, and is also the cognition and opinion held by many people after they became familiar with the deeds of that "saint".

The "Saint" is named Jeanne d'Arc. She was born in a rural village called "Domremy" on the border of the "Champagne-Ardenne" and "Lorraine" regions of France.

Jeanne d'Arc did not have a brilliant childhood. She was neither a genius nor a fool when she was young. She was just an ordinary girl born in an ordinary rural family and was one of five children in the family.

Jeanne did not receive a good education. She usually helped with cooking and housework at home. In addition to weaving and taking care of animals, she also helped with harvesting wheat during the busy farming season.

If there was one thing worth saying about Jeanne, it was that she was extremely pious.

At an age when most children would find religious activities annoying, she loved going to the village church to pray.

No one understood why this girl was so passionate about prayer.

Then, when she was thirteen, Jeanne heard "the Voice" for the first time, a mysterious voice.

She said that she met the "Angel Michael", "Saint Margaret" and "Saint Catherine" under a big tree behind the village, and received the "revelation from the Lord", which asked her to liberate France from the invaders and lead the prince to the throne.

However, when she told all this to everyone in the village, she was immediately ridiculed and isolated as a charlatan.

People's lack of understanding did not extinguish the fire in Jeanne's heart. After several twists and turns, she gained military power at the age of sixteen, lifted the siege of Orleans in 1429, and became a famous heroine in France.

Later, Joan led troops to defeat English invaders many times, and also facilitated the coronation of Charles VII, who had the right to inherit the throne, in the same year.

However, things will not develop so smoothly.

A year later, in 1430, Jeanne was captured by the "Duke of Burgundy" in a small conflict in Compiègne. She was soon bought by the English for a large sum of money. The "Inquisition" controlled by the English authorities sentenced her to death at the stake for heresy and witchcraft.

And so, Jeanne d'Arc's death came.

......

Rouen, an old market square in this ancient city, looks a bit gloomy and depressing at the moment.

The sky seemed to be covered by a layer of gray gauze, which made people feel heavy. The air was filled with humid water vapor, which seemed to indicate that a drizzle was about to fall.

Looking around, rows of old houses stand on both sides of the road, with shops, tall towers, and many residential houses.

They are like old people who have experienced many vicissitudes of life, silently witnessing the passage of time.

Normally, the streets should be empty when it is about to rain, but what is rare is that the streets are crowded with people.

Old people, adults, young people, young children, all kinds of people gathered together.

They were whispering to each other or keeping silent, but everyone's face revealed an indescribable tension, and they all cast their gazes toward the wide-open city gate.

Gradually, a group of figures appeared outside the city gate, and they looked like a medieval army.

As the crowd surged, the originally bustling and noisy streets suddenly became silent. People began to consciously retreat to the sides of the road, forming a silent and spectacular human wall.

In this human wall, a group of knights in shining armor were riding their powerful war horses into the city gate and moving slowly along the road.

The sound of horse hooves hitting the ground was crisp and pleasant. Behind these knights, a row of fully armed soldiers followed closely.

They marched in unison, with a dignified and majestic demeanor.

However, in the center of this group of people, there was a figure that was particularly eye-catching.

This is a blonde woman. She is dressed in white, and her beautiful long blonde hair is tied into a beautiful braid.

Her beauty is as dazzling as the sun, with fair skin and purple eyes, as if she is an elf descending to the earth, or an angel walking on earth.

However, at this moment she looked extremely haggard and weak.

Under the gaze of the citizens, her hands and feet were tightly locked with heavy shackles. Every step she took was very difficult, as if she was carrying the weight of the whole world.

The team advanced along the wide road towards the center of the square. The blonde woman lowered her head with empty eyes, as if she had lost perception of everything around her.

"You damn witch!!"

"Accept the sanctions!!"

"Damn you, the betrayer!!"

"Go to hell!!"

As soon as the team entered the city, the unstoppable abuse began.

There were bursts of angry shouts coming from all around, like songs from another world. Although it was a bit noisy, it was not too annoying.

Compared to these curses, what is more disturbing is the stones and pebbles that suddenly flew out from the human wall.

The body was hit continuously, and the sharp edges cut the skin, causing red blood to flow from the forehead and gradually pollute the vision in front of the eyes.

If I insist on saying that it doesn't hurt at all, I would be deceiving myself. However, this kind of pain is not completely unbearable.

There was no fear in his heart at this moment. As for those complex emotions such as unfulfilled ambitions and regrets, they had been abandoned when he made up his mind to join this battle, and had never been picked up again since then.

Since she really didn't like the feeling of being dragged forward, Jeanna chose to just walk straight forward.

The girl's name is Jeanne d'Arc, and today is the day she will be executed.

She walked on the road, raised her hands and subconsciously touched her chest, but found it was empty.

"Ahh... So my cross has been confiscated..."

The girl had lost this object that could comfort her soul, and she couldn't help but feel a little lost and sad for a moment.

If there was a cross, maybe she would calm down...

However, just as she was feeling sad, she saw a British girl pushing through the crowd around her and running straight towards her.

The other party respectfully handed her a wooden cross that looked like it had been hastily carved.

Looking at the small cross in her hand, a hint of surprise flashed across the girl's purple eyes.

She looked up at the other person, her eyes softened, and she gently took the item which was of great importance to her.

"Thanks..."

Jeanne whispered a gentle thank you.

In her opinion, it took great courage for the other party to run out from the crowd, not to mention that she handed the important "cross" to her.

Because of Jeanne's action, the British girl, feeling the other's gentleness, fell to her knees in tears, and bursts of crying sounded in Jeanne's ears.

Sadness spread in her heart, and the cry woke Jeanna from her focus on the cross in her hand. She slowly raised her head and focused her attention on the people around her.

Jeanne was surprised to find that although there were many people around her shouting and cursing, there were also quite a few people sobbing for her.

If cursing is a song from a distant country, then sadness is like a mother's lullaby.

Although the journey was shorter, these sorrows were accurately conveyed to the girl's heart.

She continued to move forward with the team, and soon arrived at the center of the square, where she saw the stake made of wood.

Under the guidance of the soldiers, she walked barefoot from the cold ground, stepped on wood of varying textures, and slowly climbed onto the platform where people were staring.

The shackles that fixed his hands were removed and the handcuffs on his hands were also unlocked.

The removal of the feeling of restraint made Jeanna feel a little relieved, but she knew that this was not a sign to let her go.

Under the gaze of everyone, she was tied to the thick wooden stick standing in the center of the platform, and her whole body was slowly bound by cold iron chains.

Shoulders, abdomen, waist, hips, legs and feet...

"It shouldn't be possible to break free, right?"

"Then tie it a little tighter..."

The two armored soldiers talked in this way and tightened the chains that bound them.

As a captured prisoner, Jeanne heard the soldiers' voices, and she couldn't help feeling helpless as she held the wooden cross in her hand.

Now that things have come to this, there is no need for her to escape anymore.

At this moment of final judgment, Jeanne looked up at the distant sky and took in the gray scenery.

Jeanne's thoughts began to wander again, and at this moment, the bishop beside her began to read out the verdict on the "Saint".

The noise in my ears became louder and louder, and the two soldiers beside me also walked down the platform.

When Jeanne came to her senses, she found herself in flames.

The dancing flame was like a blooming red lotus, and the torch thrown beside it was the culprit that caused the flame to start burning.

In the Middle Ages, people believed that the disappearance of the body was the most horrific thing, and burning at the stake was the most severe form of punishment at the time, which terrified countless people.

People gathered around the platform, trying to see something from the girl's innocent face, but the girl's reaction was so unexpected.

"It feels so hot, is this what it feels like to be burned by fire..."

“Ahh… God…”

There wasn't a trace of fear.

Amid the dancing flames, the girl's voice could be heard faintly.

Even though her skin was burned, her flesh was scorched, and her bones were cremated, this girl, who was less than twenty years old, continued to sing the names of God and the Virgin Mary.

The onlookers were stunned when they didn't hear the screams and wails they expected to hear.

“Still praying!”

"You witch!!"

"Stop your hypocritical prayers!!"

The noise of people rang in my ears again, even drowning out the girl's cries.

Why? Why do people think my prayers are hypocritical?

There should be no true or false prayer, right?

Prayer is just prayer, and its essence will not change because of the object of prayer!

Although the girl wanted to say this, her throat was no longer able to make any sound.

Suddenly, scenes from the past flashed before my eyes: the simple village, the ordinary family, and the foolish self who abandoned all of it and left that land.

Stupid?

Well... maybe stupid.

Because she "knew this outcome from the beginning", she understood this outcome better than anyone else around her.

If she had pretended not to see it at the time, she wouldn't have had to face such an ending.

That's right, if I covered my ears and ignored that voice, abandoned the soldiers who were destined to die, and lived my life as it should be, I would get married as it should be and spend the rest of my life with my husband and children.

She also knew that she actually had such a future option.

However, she abandoned this future and ran towards another future...