When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

As evening approached, the rain subsided slightly.

The burning wet wood produced an acrid, pungent smoke.

Stiff bodies were impaled on closely spaced, sharp wooden stakes, while the ground was littered with the corpses of mercenaries.

Walking across the clearing of the checkpoint, one could feel a distinct slippery and viscous sensation underfoot, the blood mixed with rainwater.

The previously yellowish earth had been dyed a brownish hue.

In front of the devastated camp, both Kleionte and Belard wore grim expressions.

They never anticipated that the group of rustic commoners could pull off such a smooth series of maneuvers, taking the camp in one fell swoop.

"What's the matter with your camp? Such a heavily guarded checkpoint, and you couldn't even send out a warning!" Belard was the first to lash out.

Kleionte turned his head sharply, almost jabbing his finger into Belard's nose: "I should be asking you! How did those short-hairs get their hands on your White Maple Mercenary Corps' uniforms?"

"All I know is, it wasn't me, Belard, who let those short-hairs go, but you!"

"Yes, yes, they were wearing your White Maple Mercenary Corps' uniforms when they left!"

"I'm just an agent. The White Maple Mercenary Corps is the White Mercenary Corps, with many captains internally. Who knew they actually had a captain-level mole here with me."

"I think the biggest mole in the White Maple Mercenary Corps is you!"

The two stood before the gap in the wooden stakes, hurling insults at each other for nearly five minutes, before panting heavily, their anger subsiding.

"Now that things have come to this, there's no other way." Kleionte suppressed the resentment in his heart. "Let's stop playing dual commanders. Everyone chooses a direction, without interfering with each other. Whoever catches them, catches them."

"Excellent!" Belard turned to leave, but after not two steps, he turned back again, saying to Kleionte, "I will definitely report this matter to His Highness Prince Kondai."

"Suit yourself."

Kleionte snorted coldly. Belard was just a distant relative of some decree knight. If he could really report to Prince Kondai, then pigs would fly.

Besides, when it really came down to it, Belard wasn't necessarily in the right.

………………

Grass blades intertwined like the fingers of a witch in a fairy tale, and on a road barely wide enough for two people, a long dragon-like column advanced rapidly.

The disordered footsteps, accompanied by the friction of colliding armor rings, and the ends of spears and staffs, were all caked with thick mud.

To their left was a deep black forest, and to their right were towering mountains. Compared to those mountains, Huo En and the others seemed like ants at the feet of giants.

East of the Gaotai Mountains were the Mountainous Five Counties composed of Shangruifo County, Nanmangde County, Beimangde County, Mangde County, and Nuosi County in the Qianhe Valley.

Among them, Huo En's Shangruifo County was half mountainous and half plains.

And the basin located in the lower reaches of the Nauan River consisted of the Plains Four Counties composed of Huotamu County, Kaxia County, Langsangde County, and Xiaruifo County.

However, the plains were only relative to the mountains. Even these four counties with their undulating hills were vastly different from the endless plains of Windmill Land and Flower Hill.

The Plains Counties only occupied one-third of the entire Qianhe Valley, but possessed nearly half of the arable land and gathered more than half of the entire Qianhe Valley's population.

Coming down from the Gaotai Mountains, the land Huo En stepped on was already the border between Nanmangde County and Xiaruifo County, and further south was Langsangde County—Huo En and the others' destination.

Huo En and the others did not take the King's Road built by the Empire, but chose a more secluded path.

Going to the Black Bone Marsh from this path would take a longer route, about five miles further.

Although the King's Road was closer, it had to pass over wooden bridges and checkpoints.

But rather than being caught by those mercenaries or blocked in front of the checkpoint, Huo En decided to be careful and not gamble on that possibility.

On this path, some vagrants would occasionally appear, they just watched Huo En's team from afar without approaching.

After all, the silver-bright armor on those black-clothed soldiers was no joke.

These armors were plate cuirasses, somewhat like iron plate tank tops, with hard leather skirts sewn along the lower edge of the plate armor, down to the thighs, to protect the crotch.

After that battle, in addition to the armor seized from the White Maple mercenaries, Huo En also took five small carts and more than twenty mules and horses from the Mountain Mercenary camp.

Traveling along with the mules, horses, and carts were Bonnerd, Hakuto, and six prisoners of war who came with Hakuto.

They were stripped of all armor and weapons, their hands tied behind their backs, with a rope tied to the slowly moving cart.

While walking, Hakuto was still observing these black-clothed soldiers.

Hakuto was forty-eight years old this year. He had been a mercenary since he was fourteen years old, and had never seen such rioters.

If this was a group of soldiers, Hakuto would have to say, far from it, they needed more training.

But if it was said that these people were just farmers a month ago, Hakuto would have to stand up and take notice.

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"How does it feel?"

"A rabble! They don't feel as strong as the White Maple Mercenary Corps." Hakuto was still sarcastic.

"Are you being stubborn? Are you being a little stubborn." Jeshka walked forward, holding the edge of the cart: "A rabble, able to cross the Gaotai Mountains? A rabble, able to defeat you, Hakuto?"

"Humph." Hakuto spat on the ground, "Did you come up with this fake camp? Working for the Mystery Society after all these years?"

"These aren't what I came up with." Jeshka shook his head, looking at Huo En in front, who was trembling in his legs but still forcing himself to move forward, "These were came up with by His Saintly Grandson."

"Don't flatter your master." Hakuto's hands were tied behind his back, and he stumbled forward, "I heard from Friar Bonnerd that he was just a farmer before."

"No, including the fake camp, marching regulations, logistics management, Saintly Treasury revenue and expenditure, and even the recipes, almost everything was handled by His Saintly Grandson alone." Jeshka's greasy long hair stuck to his round face.

If Huo En were here, he would probably cry. If it weren't for this group of green-skinned vermin not being able to handle anything, where would he have wanted to handle everything himself?

It was all forced out. That clock-telling chicken in Gulag Monastery was still staring at Huo En in the pot every day.

"If it weren't for him, we wouldn't be able to get here."

Hakuto twisted his head, obviously not believing what Jeshka said.

"I don't need to lie to you." Jeshka's leisurely voice came from the side, "I'm also very puzzled. Could there really be someone born with knowledge?"

"Maybe he learned it in Elysium." Hakuto's tone was full of sarcasm.

Without responding to Hakuto's words, Jeshka walked forward for a distance.

"Look, in our team, only the old, weak, women, children, and the sick can ride in the cart. The other bishops, even His Holiness the Pope, have to walk.

You work with the Church a lot, and you are also a devout believer in Messala. Tell me, can the bishops of the Church do this?

Compared with the people of the Church, don't you think that His Holiness Huo En, who eats the same food, walks the same road, and wears the same clothes as everyone else, is more like a Pope?"

Hakuto's footsteps paused, then continued to move forward.

Jeshka wanted to say something more, but saw a child soldier running quickly from the front army: "Commander Jeshka, Wan Piao has something urgent to see you."