When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

The rope bridge began to sway, and groups of villagers, holding onto their carts, dared not look at the raging river below as they made their way to the other side.

"Is there still time?" Jeanne stubbornly grasped Horn's arm. "They can cross the bridge if we wait for just three more hourglasses."

"There isn't time." Looking at the villagers singing hymns of a heavenly dream, Cici warned, "We have to cut the rope bridge in advance, or even those who have crossed won't survive."

"Alright, then we can only give up..." After a half-minute of silence, Horn responded in a low voice.

Perhaps he should have listened to Cici. He insisted on bringing everyone along to escape, but in the end, he still had to abandon these 300-plus elderly, weak, women, and children.

Perhaps it's a good thing?

With 300 fewer people, his retreat might be smoother, and he could reach Jeanne d'Arc Fortress sooner.

There, with his knowledge, his abilities, and his learning, he would definitely become a prominent figure.

Why should he be sad?

Horn tightened his grip on his hand-and-a-half sword. "Let's go, we'll notify the rope bridge and prepare so we can..."

"Wait." Drawing his sword, Danji supported himself on the grass and stood up. "Perhaps I can buy them a few more minutes. Maybe those refugees can make it across."

"If you're thinking of giving some speech, save it," Jeanne said, her face darkening. "This is not the time for jokes."

"No, that's not what I meant."

Danji turned around and opened the cloth bag on the horse's back, where five lances were placed.

Leading Black William to the edge of the slope, Danji stroked its head as if caressing a lover's arm.

Danji puffed out his chest, the golden light of the setting sun falling on his rough reins.

He looked at the distance, at the winding river valley, at the meandering refugees, their rough and sallow skin exposed between the seams of their clothes.

He could hear the joyful singing of these villagers, so moving, so melodious, only mixed with the heartbreaking sound of hooves coming from afar.

The Waterwheel Knight's thick fingers ran through the black horse's mane: "Actually, someone asked me a question before. He asked, 'You have no manor, no steed, and no glorious honor. What kind of knight are you?'"

"I said, I think I am."

The Waterwheel Knight puffed out his chest, his mouth smiling, but it looked even sadder than crying.

"A knight, a knight shouldn't become a knight for some chaotic status and manor, shouldn't be for money and noblewomen!

They should stand tall, upright, you know? That kind of particularly proud, rightfully so standing in front of the weak, and say, I will protect you.

Not because of money, not because of land, but out of reason and justice!"

The Waterwheel Knight smiled as if he were right there, standing in front of those unjust people.

He smiled expectantly, his eyes shining, happier than returning victorious from a knightly tournament.

Sniffling, Danji didn't let the tears fall.

He turned his head and looked at Horn and Jeanne. Horn couldn't tell what kind of smile it was.

"I can even imagine that day, I fell into a roadside puddle because of my own foolish persistence.

No one huddled around my bed crying, no one offered me flowers, but I could say to myself, look, the chivalrous knight is here."

The Waterwheel Knight laughed so loudly, it was as if he was crying.

"A knight, a knight, he is not the guardian of the kingdom and the church, but should be, should be the guardian of reason and justice!

They, how can they kneel before the strong, yet slaughter the weak, plunder everywhere for money, and kill arbitrarily just for fun...

We are knights, we are knights, we are not robbers!"

Horn had never seen such an expression on Danji's face.

This knight, who always tried his best to maintain his demeanor, was now crying sloppily.

Like a child who had been wronged.

Tears streamed down the grooves of his cheeks, and the Waterwheel Knight wiped them with his dust-covered hands, but the more he wiped, the more mud and dust there was on his face.

Horn didn't know what to say, he vaguely knew that he should try to keep Danji from leaving.

However, the words were tangled between his lips and teeth.

He couldn't say them.

"I've made you laugh." Grabbing Black William's mane to wipe away his snot and tears, Danji showed a bright smile.

He tore off the scabbard of his knight's longsword from his waist and threw it to Horn.

The scabbard drew a precise arc in the air and landed in Horn's palm.

It was a simple scabbard, wrapped in leather, wood, and iron, clean and old.

"This scabbard is for you. I see you still have that sheathless hand-and-a-half sword hanging on your waist."

"Then where should your sword go?"

"It's not needed anymore." Danji flipped onto the horse. He turned his head, the wind in the valley billowing his sleeves. "Your Grace, you will surely build a kingdom without knights.

Our Papal State, our kingdom, no longer needs knights to protect the weak, to maintain fairness, to uphold outdated justice."

Horn opened his mouth, but couldn't say even a single word.

"What are you talking about?" Jeanne took two steps forward, at a loss.

Taking a deep look at Jeanne, Danji smiled: "You must read the 'Knight Cifal' I gave you carefully. It's my foster father's work, he was a true chivalrous knight."

Passing Jeanne, Danji looked at the faint black mist on the horizon.

"The giants are coming, I'm going to kill them. You don't have to wait for me, leave first."

Sitting on his horse, Danji tilted his head towards Horn with a classic knightly salute, smiling.

In the neighing of Black William, he shook the reins and rushed down the slope.

"Danji, what are you doing?" Reaching the edge of the slope, Jeanne shouted at the Waterwheel Knight's back, "Are you crazy? Come back!"

But Danji didn't turn his head.

He lowered his body, raised his lance, and the black mane of the black warhorse obscured his eyes.

The evening breeze carried cooking smoke, whistling past his ears.

Below the rolling hills, he saw a black line, a wall of thousands of knights.

Warhorses were neighing, the earth was shaking, and the black tide divided the sky and the earth into two, the golden-red sky above and the brown-black earth below.

The black tide was getting closer and closer, clearer and clearer.

Danji could see the lances in their hands, the longswords at their waists, their indifferent expressions, and the dust kicked up under their hooves.

The sound of hooves was like giants stepping.

In the boundless black tide, he saw at a glance the knight riding the dragon-blooded horse.

The tall knight held up an ultra-long iron lance, sat upright in the saddle, hiding his face under a mask, half a head taller than the people around him.

Danji laughed.

No matter how he looked at it, that wall looked like the walls of a mill, and that tall knight looked so much like the waterwheel he crashed into.

Yes, just like the waterwheel he crashed into.

Danji lowered his head, Black William snorted crisply.

He hadn't accomplished anything in his life.

He went to participate in the tournament and lost ten consecutive times in the knightly competition.

He went to practice chivalry and was stripped of all his clothes, begging for help naked.

He was a joke wherever he went.

After so many years, Danji wanted to retire, but before that, he could do one last thing.

The only thing that could prove he was a knight.

The only thing that could prove knights existed.

Raising his head, Danji's eyes were bloodshot, and unprovoked anger burned through every inch of his flesh, almost cracking the corners of his eyes.

He had never been so angry when he fell into the cesspool, he had never been so angry when he was stripped naked, he had never been so angry when everyone laughed at him.

For the first time in his life, he was so angry that he didn't care about anything.

As the Edict Knights charged, he opened his mouth and let out an unprecedented roar:

"Grand Commander of the Papal State Holy Grail Knights, Danji Alfonso Herd, is here!"

The knight who once charged towards the waterwheel proudly raised his head, raised his lance, and stood in front of the wall of knights.

In the rolling dust, were hidden two thousand seven hundred fully armed extraordinary knights.

The knight who once charged towards the waterwheel, his allies, were only the towering hills on both sides.

Pointing his lance at those robbers, the Waterwheel Knight righteously, proudly, and with incomparable pride, let out a deafening roar:

"You damned robbers, if you want the lives of those poor people, then come!"

"Come! Come break my spine! Come pierce my heart! Cut off my head!"

"Before that--"

"Don't even think about stepping past me!"