When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

Unlike the plains counties like North Mangde County and Langsande County, most of the land area here is occupied by mountains.

The entire North Mangde County is divided into two main narrow river valley regions by the three extending mountain ranges of the Dragon Sleep Mountain Range: the Red Iron Mountain Range, the Amethyst Mountain Range, and the Obsidian Mountain Range.

The Southern River Valley is crossed by the Silver Thread River, and the Duchy of Hemashi essentially represents the whole Southern River Valley.

Agriculture in North Mangde County is primarily concentrated in these two river valleys, with the Central River Valley having the most cultivated land, which is an area occupied by the Church.

Numerous religious landlords are scattered here, and the White Water Castle Church, through donations and the swallowing of inheritances, annexed a large amount of local Thousand River Valley People lords' properties during the Codfish Castle Battle ten years ago.

So it's no wonder that the lords whose properties were swallowed would strike back.

"Sir Spirotchu, please follow this way." The youngest son of Baron Fengsong's Family bent down, standing in the bushes, pointing at the Monastery ahead.

Spirochu has always been a silent old man. He looked at the Monastery nestled in the mountains and nodded lightly.

Don't underestimate it as just a Monastery; its power is unimaginable.

With its outer high walls, moat, and tower defenses, it is, in a sense, a small fortress.

Inside each Monastery are stationed some temple knights and armored soldiers, as well as a considerable number of armed farmers.

In a place like Mountain County with such fierce folkways, it is, in a sense, similar to a colonial military base.

If they were to mobilize the militia, it would take a lot of time to take it down.

"My men have completed the investigation. Today happens to be market day, and the Monastery gates are all open."

"At such a time, how could they…" Steve with a square face looked at those soldiers lazily leaning against the wall, unable to finish the latter part of his sentence.

The bishops' slackness has its reasons. They aren't really afraid of any uprising because they rely on the Empire's largest extraordinary religious organization—the Miseria Church.

There have been countless uprisings, have they ever succeeded?

It's just old wine in new bottles, merely killing a few low-level monks and then using them as a protest, while barely daring to kill bishops or even noble counts and dukes.

The noble society is a whole, and the religious nobility is also a part of the noble circle.

They can scheme against and even kill each other internally, but would never permit servants—those lowly peasants—to kill their noble enemies.

Nobles and priests are their own people.

Anyone who dares to kill a noble, especially a religious noble, will be collectively suppressed by the nobles who hold the core of extraordinary power.

However, they never thought that there would be a noble like Moliat, who actually dared to make a deadly move on the diocese bishop.

"Feeling sorry for the enemy?" Spirotchu took out a nearly two-meter-long flanged mace from another packhorse, "Isn't that just my style?"

Fifty full armor knights led horse, moving slowly through the thickets and small woods, reaching a best position to charge.

"Hermashi Knights, charge!"

Mounting his horse, Spirotchu raised the mace high, leaping out of the bushes, and the swirling air blew away the fallen leaves of winter.

"Charge!"

Fifty knights on horseback or mule followed behind Spirotchu, charging straight towards the Monastery.

The vibrating hoofbeats silenced everyone for a moment, they even stared blankly at the charging knights.

It wasn't until the first blocking armored soldier's skull was smashed open by the mace, the brain matter and bone fragments scattering everywhere, that screams and cries belatedly sounded.

"It's the Robber Knights!"

"Help, Saint Master, bless us!"

"Damn civilians, get out of the way, let the monk masters go first."

The civilians and soldiers present obviously didn't anticipate this, after all, it was near White Water Castle!

They screamed and fled in all directions. In the crowded flow of people, the armored soldiers were swayed back and forth, unable to gather.

The mountain knights, riding mules, quickly dismounted, forming arrays of five to ten, beginning foot combat.

With long double-handed swords swinging with bloody accuracy, they precisely harvested the resistors' heads.

Every swing of the mace sent a body flying, and amidst the surging crowd, the white horses were dyed pink with blood.

Spirochu, like a sailboat cutting through wind and waves, advanced firmly toward the Monastery's gate.

"Close the gate, close the gate now!"

Seeing Spirotchu getting closer, the head of the Monastery shouted hoarsely, jumping in the chaos of fleeing people and directing them.

The robust monks and armed farmers braced against the door with their shoulders, struggling as they pushed forward. The gap was just a foot away from being closed.

But then, a tremendous force came from behind the door. A war hammer, wielded by a skinny arm, sent a monk flying immediately.

Twenty mounted mountain knights, following behind Spirotchu, charged in one after another, their knight's swords frantically hacking at the black-robed monks.

In less than a quarter of an hour, the monastery's gates were breached.

"Kneel and you won't be killed! Kneel and you won't be killed!"

"Are you insane?" The monks shouted in disbelief as they saw the head of the monastery beheaded by Spirotchu's sword.

"It seems you still don't understand the situation!" Steve, following behind Spirotchu, laughed, "The Church conspired to usurp the title of Duke Hemashi and murdered Lady Moliat's teacher, Juanuo.

Yesterday, your Bishop Resite organized a plot against our Lord, and was personally executed by Lady Moliat!

The Church's tyranny over the Blue Blood Wine and the death of Juanuo clearly violates the teachings of Miseria.

To maintain the purity of Miseria's faith, Lady Moliat must draw her sword and purge the rot within the Church.

Ha... still don't get it? Duchess Hemashi has declared war on the Thousand River Valley Church!"

After Steve said this, all the monks and priests present were speechless for at least three seconds.

When they fully realized what they were facing, some smart ones already collapsed to the ground in fear.

Ignoring these monks, Herman took out a simple map from his pocket, confirmed the direction, and said to the youngest son of Baron Fengsong's family, "It's up to you here."

"The whole army rests for a quarter of an hour, target, White Water Castle!"

Seven Elm Town, in front of the Knight Hall.

Red Horse Knight Moro, whose skin is the color of rye, squinted his eyes as he formally read out Moliat's orders.

When he heard that the eldest son was appointed the lord of Warwick Town and the youngest son was appointed the lord of Seven Elm Town with nothing else left to say, the old lord stood blankly in place.

"What about me?" With a dark face, the lord of Seven Elm Town incredulously pointed at himself and asked.

"Old Lord, you've been busy all your life, it's time you enjoyed some peace." Moro put away the scroll, "Lady Moliat has prepared a country villa for you to retire in..."

"Damn it, you, you ungrateful bastards, devils, you have no honor!" The lord of Seven Elm Town roared, not noticing the cold sweat on the foreheads of those around him.

"Old Lord, I'm a straightforward person, please forgive me." Moro stepped forward and said in that earnest tone, "Outside are all my knights, I can kill your entire family anytime. You have only two choices: either go upright to Cold Spring Castle or horizontally to Cold Spring Castle."

The old lord's eyes widened, just about to retort, but felt someone tugging at his sleeve from behind.

Turning his head, his two sons, who once stood opposed, were now unanimously pulling his clothes.

Looking at Moro in front of him, then turning as if seeing his two sons for the first time, his face went pale.

Lips trembling, the old lord could no longer stand steady and sat down hard on the ground: "I, I will go to Cold Spring Castle."

Changfeng Castle, in the fields outside the castle.

Upset carts, crippled warhorses, and haystacks set ablaze by fiery arrows spewed thick black smoke.

The few remaining patches of snow by the roadside were dyed red with the knights' blood, the ambushing temple knights bound in chains, forced to kneel on the roadside.

Marching in neat formation, over a thousand foot-mounted mountain knights advanced slowly to the sound of clashing metal.

At the roadside, Black Knight Herman, his arm bandaged, held a swift sword and smiled as he stood in front of Baron Changfeng.

The graying Baron Changfeng knelt on the ground, tears and snot flowing, incessantly muttering: "I beg you, I beg you, I can pay a ransom."

"How much bounty did they offer?"

"Th-three thousand gold pounds."

"Oh, that much?" Herman used the swift sword to lift the baron's chin, as two knights came carrying a large chest filled with gold pounds.

He kicked open the chest, picking up one greasy gold pound that gleamed in the sunlight.

"You like gold pounds, huh?" Crushing the baron's chin with his hand, he grinned as he shoved a handful of gold into Baron Changfeng's mouth, "Eat as much as you like if you love them!"

"Mm, mm hmm hmmm—"

Not long after, the old baron rolled his eyes, foamed at the mouth, clutching his bulging stomach as he fell, while his sons were hung from the trees.

Wiping the blood off his hands with a handkerchief, Herman asked the attendant, "Have the bodies of our young men been taken care of?"

"All taken care of."

"Alright, then, let's move out, Changfeng Castle!"