Chapter 189: Interception, Stating a Stance

"Are you certain those followers of the Lady of Night will be evacuating the capital soon? What is the point of us waiting here like this?"

"Why do you care so much? We are just here to earn a living. If the noble lords want us to wait here, then we wait here. Just do your job properly and keep your head down, understand?"

Outside the capital, within a long-abandoned post station not far from the main road, voices suddenly echoed through the dusty, dilapidated structure that had been silent for ages.

A dozen men, dressed in rags and looking much like deserters fleeing a battlefield, lingered in the debris-strewn station.

Surprisingly, despite their wretched appearance, these men were almost all high-level apprentice knights or official knights.

They took turns watching the carriages passing by outside, and the two currently on duty were the ones conversing.

"I just feel there’s no point in waiting like this. Isn't there any precise time for when those people from the Church of Night will leave the city?" the one who had first raised the question insisted.

"The intelligence provided by those noble lords says the Church of Night will choose to evacuate soon. As for where they got that information, who knows? But isn't that underground intelligence network called the 'Dark Web' quite popular lately? It likely came from there."

His companion, having already refuted him once, thought for a moment before providing an answer.

"Fine, then. I don't know how strong those Church of Night people are. Even after years of killing for a living, this is my first time acting so brazenly near the capital..."

Having received his answer, the first man stopped complaining. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it with a match from the windowsill, and took a drag; it was clear he was quite nervous.

"Who isn't? Although those noble investigators said we just need to pretend to be soldiers who have just retreated from the front lines."

"They want us to 'happen' to encounter the Church of Night's evacuation party on the road back to the capital, 'happen' to get into a conflict, and 'happen' to accidentally kill these people, who will be framed as Sewentan collaborators. They claim that even near the capital, they will protect us."

"But who knows if these people can keep their word? Haven't they shown us enough of their untrustworthiness? If they decide to kill us along with them, there won't be any evidence left to prove a thing."

Watching his companion puffing away, the other man couldn't help but light a cigarette of his own, speaking as he inhaled.

"Damn it, it’s just our own greed. If we get this money, we can finally stop living a life of licking blood off the blade for a long time."

He slammed his hand against the windowsill, furious at himself for taking such a risk, unable to resist the temptation of the massive payout.

"Wait, stop talking. That’s the signal—that carriage!"

His companion’s words abruptly cut off the other man's grumbling. He looked toward the capital, where rhythmic flashes appeared atop the towering city walls. It was the signal for the ambush party: the target had arrived.

On the main road leading away from the capital, a large carriage, significantly bigger than the standard ones, was moving at a moderate pace. Sturdy, powerful horses pulled the vehicle with heavy, rhythmic strides.

Sitting in the driver’s seat was a fierce-looking Orc, who was focused intently on steering the carriage toward them.

"An Orc driver? That must be it. Only the Church of Night, with its mix of many different races, would use an Orc to pull a carriage. Everyone, get ready."

The two observers at the window alerted the others resting in the station. These mercenaries, hired by the noble investigation team and tacitly permitted by the royal family, quickly shook off their lethargy, exited the station through a hidden passage, and moved to ambush the path of the slow-moving carriage.

Though not a regular army, these mercenaries were veterans of countless battles, having been chosen for this commission. They moved with speed, quickly finding their rhythm and coordinating with one another in the short time they had.

In such missions, the greatest danger is mutual distrust. Even if they were strangers, for the sake of the reward, they would unconditionally entrust their backs to these "mission partners."

A dozen men, wearing tattered armor over high-quality inner mail, moved swiftly. Utilizing their physical prowess to outpace the carriage in a short sprint, they reached the edge of the forest outside the capital before the target.

"Silence scrolls, and this herbal powder to mask our scent—one for each of you. When we launch the assault, go all out. Don't give them a chance to react. The intelligence said the Church of Night isn't very strong, but don't be careless, understand?"

One of the lookouts pulled several sound-dampening magic scrolls and small glass jars of white powder from his pack, handing them to the others.

The mercenaries took the items, tore the scrolls, and coated themselves from head to toe in the white powder. A faint ripple of magic suppressed the sounds of their movements and the rustling of grass and trees.

The white powder used a special, "odorless" scent to mask their own natural smells.

No longer able to communicate with words, the mercenaries exchanged hand signals and silently found their hiding spots, focusing all their attention on the carriage approaching the forest edge.

*Click.* There was no actual sound—this was the noise the alchemy crossbow should have made while drawing the string. Under the effect of the silence scroll, the mercenary's movements were completely soundless.

"One shot. Take out the Orc driver first. If that Orc goes berserk, it’ll be a real headache."

He muttered to himself, his precision alchemy crossbow covered in a layer of battle aura—the internal technique of this official knight: *Gale Force*.

Once the first bolt was fired, it would be followed by several invisible piercing arrows formed by high-pressure air currents. While the first bolt appeared to be the killing blow, the invisible arrows were the true lethal threat.

*Bang!* The soundless release of the bowstring occurred the moment the mercenary pulled the trigger. The intricate mechanism clicked into place, and the specially crafted, high-explosive assassination crossbow fired. The first physical bolt would determine the power of the subsequent *Gale Force* air-current arrows.

*Whoosh!* As the rapidly spinning bolt exited the range of the silence enchantment, it immediately emitted a sharp, piercing whistle as it tore through the air.

This spoke to the terrifying power of the bolt; the weighted tip would unleash immense destructive force at high speeds, easily piercing through half-inch-thick iron plates.

The invisible air-current arrows following behind were even more powerful than the physical bolt.

From the moment the bolt was fired at the Orc driver, the mercenary was certain of his kill.

Upon hearing the sharp, piercing friction of the air, Emon instantly lifted his head. The green pupils in his eyes turned blood-red in less than a quarter of a second—the Orc's innate ability: *Berserk*.

However, Emon was still a fraction of a second slower than the sudden bolt. The silence enchantment was far too perfect for such a powerful assassination weapon.

Without prior warning, the power of the *Gale Force* internal technique was truly staggering.

The high-speed bolt reached the outer edge of Emon's eye socket the moment he finished his berserk transformation. Even with the physical strength of a Great Knight, Emon was too slow to raise his hand to block it.

The next moment, the bolt struck Emon's forehead.

But instead of the sound of flesh being pierced, there was a high-frequency friction noise. The spinning bolt seemed to hit an invisible barrier, forcibly stopped against the surface of Emon's skin.

After a second of collision, the spinning bolt lost its momentum and was deflected, defeated by the barrier covering Emon.

The *Gale Force* air-current arrows then began to strike the barrier. The rapidly rotating air currents displayed immense penetrating power as they collided with the sturdy defense.

Several arrows struck the barrier simultaneously, and after a few moments of stalemate, the barrier shattered...

The air-current arrows, having broken through one layer, were met by another, and a new round of clashing began.

The destructive power of *Gale Force* was not to be underestimated. After piercing one layer, its momentum dropped slightly, but it still managed to penetrate another before dissipating.

However, behind the shattered barrier was yet another. The power of the air-current arrows finally faded the moment they touched the third layer.

The instant the arrows dissipated, Emon, having locked onto the direction of the attack, had already charged out. The blood-red-eyed Orc needed a target to vent his killing instinct.

The enemy who had tried to kill him—and would have succeeded if not for the eight layers of mana shields—was the perfect target.

Yes, there was a reason Emon sat so prominently without any visible protection. His body was covered in eight layers of Tier 3 mana shields. His role was to draw the fire of any ambushers they had foreseen.

These shields were provided by his "stingy" Goblin boss, who had fished the scrolls out of a corner of the merchant guild's warehouse in the capital. Heaven knows how many life-saving items that coward had hidden away; they had certainly proven their worth today.

The mercenary could never have imagined how terrifying Emon's defense was. He had never considered the possibility that the Orc driver would be completely unaffected and counterattack immediately. This fact, which exceeded his expectations, sealed his fate.

With *Berserk* activated and his physical stats touching the threshold of a Great Knight, only the mercenary, whose head was being crushed in astonishment, knew how fast Emon was.

A blur, and the Orc was already in front of him. His rough, massive hand clamped down on the mercenary's head, the pressure causing the skull to crack with a sickening sound.

But the next moment, he felt no more pain. The sensation, along with his head being smashed into a pulp against the ground, vanished instantly.

This sudden turn of events shocked all the ambushing mercenaries. They had never imagined that the members of the Church of Night would be warned of the ambush by the Blades of Night.

What appeared to be a mercenary ambush on the Church of Night's convoy was, in reality, a trap set by the Church, waiting for the attackers to reveal themselves.

*!* Before the other mercenaries could recover from the shock of their comrade's head being crushed by the Orc, the second wave of attacks from the carriage arrived.

For the Elven Ranger Vena, these ambushers, who had hidden their scent and muffled their sounds but were still trampling the surrounding vegetation, were completely exposed.

Softly chanting syllables known as the "Whispers of Nature," she commanded the plants to grow explosively. Thick vines, catching the ambushers off guard, bound the limbs of those hiding among the trees.

The grip wasn't incredibly tight—it could be broken with effort—but that slight delay was fatal against the attacks of the official knights leaping from the carriage and the berserk Orc.

Gilbert’s blade, coated in his internal technique, turned ethereal and passed through the trunk of a thick tree without resistance, decapitating the ambusher hiding behind it.

The Orc Emon was even more direct, charging into the woods, ignoring the obstruction of trees and brush, destroying everything in his path. Whenever he encountered an ambusher, he relied on his overwhelming strength to snap necks and crush skulls.

The official knights who jumped down with Gilbert were elite members of the Blades of Night’s combat squad. To them, the mercenaries who thought they were well-hidden were easily spotted.

With the physical stats of official knights and coordinated internal techniques, dealing with these mercenaries—who were only temporarily allied and lacked long-term cooperation—was nothing short of a slaughter.

The longsword dripped with gore, hot blood spraying wildly, the agonizing wails smothered by the mercenaries' own silencing scrolls; in a heartbeat, this counter-ambush had reached its end.

Every mercenary who had prepared to launch a sudden assault now lay dead within the woods, their corpses swallowed by the encroaching brush.

Venna raised her longbow, drawing it to the full, aiming toward the distance where a figure was fleeing in a frantic, panicked scramble to escape.

A verdant luster coated the arrowhead; the elven ranger’s aim would never let a target within range slip away.

Just as she prepared to loose the lethal shaft, Gilbert stepped to her side and stayed her hand.

"Lady Venna, let him go. He is likely an observer for the royal house. Though we are nominally a caravan from the Night’s Edge on a mission to nearby villages, as you can see, we were identified and ambushed. Let him return."

"Will he not expose you?" Venna did not persist; she lowered her bow at once, abandoning the kill, and merely posed the question.

"Certainly he will, but that is part of our intent. It serves as a declaration: the Night’s Edge is aware of the maneuvers the crown and the nobility are making against the Church of the Night, and we will not permit such things to come to pass."

Gilbert’s tone was grave, his expression exceptionally earnest.

"...A declaration, then. You have my thanks." Venna fell silent for a moment, grasping his meaning. The purpose of allowing the observer to escape was to reveal the presence of the Night’s Edge in this slaughter, signaling that they stood firmly with the Church of the Night.

"We make for excellent partners, do we not?"

Gilbert smiled. In the Shadow of the Royal City, his cooperation with the Church had been fruitful; the Church had provided invaluable aid to the Night’s Edge, and he had grown fond of the thriving atmosphere within that sanctuary.

"May the Lady of the Night watch over you. Farewell."

Gilbert performed the ritual blessing of the Church; since being rescued from psychic corruption by the prayer network, he had become a devout follower of the Lady.

Venna returned the gesture, and with that, the members of the Night’s Edge parted ways with the first group of believers departing the capital, the two parties diverging into the shadows.