When the spicy liquid slid down his throat, Luo Ling felt as if a small blue ghost flame ignited within his chest.
The burning sensation vanished in an instant, replaced by a strange sense of “weightlessness”—not that his body became lighter, but as if his soul had been wrapped in a black cloth soaked in stagnant water, sealing away all traces of vitality.
He lowered his head and looked at his bloodstained boots, noticing that the once-rising white blood mist was visibly dissipating.
“This is the bodily fluid of the ‘Shadow Jellyfish.'”
Samuel’s voice came from behind the mask, carrying the metallic scrape of friction.
“The demons track their prey by soul fluctuations and life energy. This stuff turns you into a walking stone in their perception.”
He turned and walked toward a path in the dense forest, hidden beneath vines.
“Follow me. We need to leave the battlefield before dawn.”
Luo Ling gripped the holy sword “Judgement.”
At this moment, the sacred blade was eerily silent, the golden glow on its edge completely faded, returning to its unadorned “Dawn” form.
He watched Samuel’s figure merge into the shadows, suddenly recalling the betrayers who turned to black smoke three days ago at Free Spring Fortress—their bodies also carried a similar shadowy aura, but nothing as pure as the man before him.
“What exactly are you?”
Luo Ling followed his steps, the holy sword trembling slightly in his palm.
“Or are you one of the Shadow Division under the Demon King?”
Samuel paused.
Moonlight filtered through the leaves, casting sharp, hawk-like contours across his silver mask.
“I’m just a passing member of the church.”
He suddenly turned, mask inches from Luo Ling’s face. The eyes behind the goggles seemed to pierce flesh, reaching straight into the soul.
“Before you swing down, think carefully—can the current ‘Dawn’ still cut through shadows?”
Luo Ling’s heart clenched.
He tried to summon the power of holy light within him, but found it sinking into a Frozen Abyss, leaving only a faint pulse.
The bodily fluid of the Shadow Jellyfish not only blocked demonic senses—it also seemed to temporarily suppress the sword’s power.
“What are you trying to do?”
Luo Ling’s voice grew cold.
Samuel turned and walked on, his tone returning to its previous indifference.
“To take you to see someone. There are things you need to know before you decide to continue being ‘the fallen vanguard Luo Ling.'”
They moved through the forest, fallen leaves crunching softly underfoot.
From afar, the battlefield echoed with demonic victory roars and the moans of allied wounded. The sounds were muffled and distant, as if separated by a thick curtain of water.
Luo Ling suddenly remembered his own soldiers—the brothers who charged with him. At this moment, they might be struggling under demonic blades.
A surge of guilt seized him.
“My soldiers…”
“They won’t survive.”
Samuel’s voice was devoid of emotion.
“The Tobin Marquis’s followers spread the ‘Bone-Eroding Curse’ within the fortress. Those afflicted are marked as priority targets by the demons. This was a sacrifice orchestrated from the start.”
Luo Ling stopped abruptly, nails digging into his palm.
“Tobin… Why would he do this?”
“For ‘ascension.'”
Samuel’s voice carried a trace of unnoticeable mockery.
“The Red-robed Cardinal of the Holy Light Church promised him that as long as he offered enough ‘Power of Faith,’ he could become the new hero. Unfortunately, he didn’t realize that this so-called ‘Power of Faith’ was nothing more than fodder for nurturing abyssal demons.”
Luo Ling felt a wave of cold disgust.
He had always thought this war was a clash between light and darkness, never imagining such filthy transactions lurked beneath.
Human greed was more chilling than the claws of demons.