When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

“Bang——”

“Hiss hiss hiss.”

Endless white mist burst from the linen sphere on the wooden frame shaped like 屮, enveloping Horn and the armored soldier pressing down on him.

The thick mist was like a barrier, obscuring the scene from everyone's view.

The villagers immediately exclaimed in surprise. Everyone knew that holy water and wine were the two major sources of profit for the church's business.

For these poor villagers, such an expensive thing as holy water was being used on the Holy Grandson for nothing; it was a sin!

But some people did have doubts in their hearts.

After all, the villagers weren't really that stupid. Quite a few people had seen through the trick of binding the Holy Maiden and the Holy Grandson together.

“Everyone, wait and see what happens first!”

An armed farmer pretended to dissuade them, then turned his eager gaze towards the cloud of white mist.

Under the armed farmer's persuasion, the villagers gradually stopped moving forward.

Faced with the guarantee of a clergyman with official status and a proper witcher, the docile villagers of Thousand River Valley hesitated, as they had been for a long time.

They stopped throwing stones or mud at the soldiers, standing there, neither advancing nor retreating.

They craned their necks, waiting for the judgment after the holy water dissipated.

The Iron Fang Monk straightened his back, the corners of his mouth slightly raised, his pitying gaze seeming to penetrate the white mist with golden light.

This holy water grenade was no ordinary holy water, but a highly concentrated version mixed with other expensive spices.

Even armored soldiers at the second stage of breathing techniques would be affected if they inhaled too much, let alone ordinary people.

Even if he wasn't deeply influenced by the witch, he could at least take the opportunity to attack and buy time.

“The holy water mist is about to dissipate. Watch carefully. If he has nothing to do with devils, then let me be burned to death by raging fire…”

“Ah-choo!” A sneeze came from the mist, and the scene within gradually became visible.

The armored soldier was still straddling Horn's waist, but his expression seemed to be lost in thought. Horn, on the other hand, was still struggling and even able to shout.

“Look, believers, I'm fine at all! They are the devils!”

At a speed visible to the naked eye, the Iron Fang Monk's face turned ashen. He even took several steps towards the dangerous “Secret Party,” roaring in disbelief, “Impossible! This is impossible!”

“Now that things have come to this, what are you still waiting for?” Horn didn't feel any reaction at all. Instead, the armored soldier had inhaled too much holy water and fallen into a trance.

“Who are the devils is obvious at a glance!” Horn struggled, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Don't be bewitched and contaminated by devils!”

From the time he crossed over until now, it was the first time he had suffered such a great loss. Facing life and death, he couldn't maintain his original composure.

The villagers who had been hesitant before now had looks of horror and determination on their faces.

Although only a ten-man army dared to come forward to rescue him, the rest were either helping by raining down stones or cheering, and few dared to run away.

“Whoever rescues me or captures and kills those devils, I will grant them the title of bishop of the township, and a hundred acres of land, to be兑现 immediately after the flood recedes!”

Pressed to the ground by the armored soldier, Horn shouted loudly, regardless of everything, making promises.

Hearing Horn's promise, the villagers who were closer immediately had their eyes light up and rushed towards the armored soldier with grass forks and wooden sticks, shouting.

With someone taking the lead, the rest began to rush towards Gilo's group in a scattered manner.

Seeing things heading in an uncontrollable direction, Gilo didn't have time to regret it. He grabbed the arm of the Iron Fang Monk, who was still muttering to himself, and roared at the guards, “Kill your way out together!”

“They want to escape!”

“Kill the devils, don't look back!”

Three or five young men from the refugees rushed towards Horn. Most of them were from rogue backgrounds, never lacking courage, but severely lacking brains.

Stepping on a rotten wooden plank, the leading young refugee jumped up and, facing the armored soldier's blank and surprised expression, delivered a powerful downward chop.

The sound of the sword tearing through fabric and flesh caused the villagers' footsteps to drop several decibels immediately.

The bright red tip of the sword pierced through the thin and bony body. On the white bones, hung torn muscle fibers. Yellow and green intestines cascaded like a waterfall from the abdominal cavity.

Kicking the corpse off the armed sword, the armored soldier shook off the blood on the sword and showed a bloody smile to the young refugee who had completely stopped.

The villagers who had been collectively charging immediately slammed on the brakes.

“Don't get entangled, move quickly!” Gilo pulled the monk back step by step.

Seeing the witcher retreat, the remaining soldiers followed suit, but there were two wounded, and their speed was not fast.

As for the villagers of Red Mill Village, no matter how Horn shouted, they would take a step forward as Gilo retreated, and they wouldn't move if Gilo didn't retreat. If Gilo moved forward, they would retreat.

Maintaining a distance that was neither too close nor too far, they just followed along.

With just these few people, apart from the choirboys, the thirty-odd young and strong men present didn't dare to take the initiative to attack.

Horn couldn't believe his eyes.

It was a good thing he didn't let them fight the knights back then, otherwise, with this performance, there was a high probability, even a ninety percent chance, that they would be easily suppressed by the knights.

How did he ever think of getting involved with this group of insects?

However, what Horn didn't know was that for these villagers, this was already great courage and progress.

In the past, if the Iron Fang Monk just shouted, they would immediately hand over their weapons and surrender.

With a muffled groan, the armored soldier with an arrow in his knee pulled out the wooden arrow.

After all, it was a homemade arrow, just blackening and hardening the front end of the arrowhead, without metal barbs.

Throwing away the blood-stained arrow, the wounded soldier took out a wooden tube from his pocket, took a sip, and threw the wooden tube to the night watchman with an arrow in his arm.

The church's hemostatic and analgesic potion went down, and the tall night watchman and the armored soldier with an arrow in his knee turned red, panting heavily, as if those bloody wounds didn't hurt anymore.

At this moment, the little boys who couldn't run fast finally rested, bandaged their wounds, and continued to rush towards the unarmored tall guard.

Standing beside the corpse of the short guard, the tall guard learned from his companion's lesson, and he truly regarded these children as opponents worthy of a fight.

He shook his hooked spear, hitting the shafts of the choirboys' long spears left and right, forcing them to expose their center line.

The armored soldier took the opportunity to thrust, and if his leg wasn't injured and he couldn't move easily, the choirboys would have died eight times already.

After all, the choirboys had trained for too short a time and were too young. They could kill the first guard by surprise, but they couldn't achieve the previous results against the prepared adult guard and armored soldier.

In front of the two adults, the choirboys were stretched thin, and the long spears in their hands showed signs of being unstable.

Because the ground was slippery, the only little girl in the choirboys, Fritzi, lost her footing and suddenly fell backward while retreating.

The tall night watchman stepped forward, passed Duvaron standing in the front row, and aimed the hooked spear at Fritzi's throat.

Not caring so much, Duvaron turned around like a loach, pounced on Fritzi, exposing his back to the sharp hooked spear.

The sharp object cut through the air, and the smell of blood seemed to have entered his nostrils.

Seeing that the tip of the hooked spear was about to pierce Duvaron's thin back, a bright golden color quickly occupied everyone's vision.

At the critical moment, the night watchman's hooked spear was firmly blocked by this bright golden color.

It was a flag shining with golden light, and countless golden threads flowed like mist on the surface of the flag.

In the very center of the flag, a rich golden Holy Grail was emitting dazzling light.

Such a soft flag, when the sharp blade of the hooked spear slid across it, actually produced the sound of metal friction amid the sparks.

While the tall night watchman was stunned, the flag suddenly rolled up, turning into a spiral shape at the very front end of the wooden pole.

Leveling the flag spear, Lana silently skipped a step, stepped on the pole of the hooked spear, borrowed strength to catapult forward, and the tip of the spear turned into a golden thread, stabbing towards the guard's chest.

After all, the guard had gone through a desperate fight. He dodged to the side, letting this stab go from his chest to his shoulder.

But it was useless.

The night watchman couldn't say another word, and ten tree-branch-like blood marks extended from where the flag spear was thrust into other parts of his body.

Volcano-crater-like blisters appeared on the night watchman's skin. His whole body was paralyzed, and he couldn't even scream.

From his eye sockets, blood-colored steam emitted, which was the liquid in his eyeballs boiling.

The next second, like a burst éclair, a grayish-white viscous liquid shot out from the guard's eye sockets.

Kneeling on the ground, the guard spat out a light red steam, and then peacefully lay down on the muddy ground.

The armored soldier next to him quickly jumped out from the side, sweeping horizontally with his sword, about to cut open Lana's soft waist and abdomen.

But Lana didn't even look at him, extending an empty palm, and two bolts of lightning drilled into the armored soldier's wide-open mouth.

“Ah——”

In an ear-piercing scream, the soldier knelt on the ground as if petrified.

Fresh blood flowed from his nostrils and ear holes. The soldier's mouth was directly split into four petals, and the oral mucosa directly fell out of his mouth.

He covered his throat and coughed violently, and solidified blood clots and rotten flesh fell from his mouth, almost coughing out his lungs, let alone picking up the sword.

Leather boots stepped on the guard's soft corpse, Lana held the flag spear horizontally, focusing her silent and disgusted gaze on Gilo and the Iron Fang Monk.

It's over.

Whether it was Gilo or the Iron Fang Monk, this thought floated in their minds at the same time.