Alice in the Land of Steam

Chapter 1371 Should we tell them sooner?

“The Church of the Holy Goddess?” Selena’s eyes widened in surprise. “It sounds somewhat similar to our Church of the Creator Goddess. Could it be that the goddess they worship is also…”

“It’s hard to say whether it is or not,” Yanor said in a deep voice. “If it’s just using the name of the Goddess to swindle and deceive, the consequences are obvious. Even if Assyria doesn’t ask about it, we should still investigate. But if the Goddess they believe in is the same Goddess of the Creation Goddess Cult… that might not be a good thing either.”

Everyone present, except for Selena, understood his unspoken meaning.

Nine hundred years ago, the last Elf King, Grin El, crossed the sea, bringing with him the dying wish of a saint and the legacy of the Goddess of Creation's religion. He also gained the recognition of the demon races of Assyria, the land of paradise. He wished to spread the grace of the Goddess in this land of faith and restore the glory of the Goddess of Creation's religion. However, the Goddess's doctrines were incompatible with, and even conflicted with, the existing religious system of the Eastern Continent. The relationship between the two was no longer one of competition, but rather one of replacement. If one survived, the other would inevitably perish. What followed was a brutal religious war. The countless churches on the Eastern Continent of Empires, whether true gods, righteous gods, or evil and false gods, all rose up in attack, determined to eliminate them.

The power of a single church could not possibly contend with the entire faith system of the Eastern Continent. That war was undoubtedly a defeat for the Church of the Goddess of Creation. Afterward, the Goddess's followers were forced to abandon their influence in the civilized world and retreat to the paradise of Assyria to preserve their strength. The last Elf King, Grin El, felt that this war was the best opportunity. If it failed, he feared that for the next thousand years, there would be no hope of restoring the Goddess's glory, and he would be letting down the earnest entrustment of the saints before his departure. Therefore, he was depressed and not long after, his old wounds flared up, and he passed away.

The world lost its last Elf King, and the prophetic poems of the Moriah seemed to have come to an end, never to continue.

Years later, a young man led a group of like-minded companions in a momentous uprising in the "Land of Salt and Dust," rebelling against the tyrannical rule of the empire. The spirits of Assyria, the Paradise Country, saw familiar traces of the past in him and extended a helping hand, hoping to use this opportunity to realize their unfulfilled ideals. However, they still failed, perhaps once again confirming the sorrowful lament of Lord Grin El before his death.

Now, what is the origin of those who have suddenly appeared in the province of Atoliga, claiming to be followers of the Goddess? Are they orphans who were displaced by the religious war? Or are they believers who voluntarily follow the Goddess because they are inspired by her glory? Whatever the possibility, Arnor only hopes that they will be cautious and not be too ostentatious, lest they attract the attention of those with ulterior motives.

In particular, beneath their feet lay the territory of the Yalas United Empire, the very source of that massive uprising, the "land of salt and dust"—Atorica—that buried countless lives and ideals.

Because of their covert support for the rebels, the goddess faith is viewed with far more hostility in this land than in other regions. If even those deep in the province have heard the rumors, what about the Imperial Army, which is already stationed in the Burial Ground? Perhaps they have already begun their operation?
Hope it's not too late.

Arnor pursed his lips, suppressing his thoughts and remaining silent. Perhaps his companions could sense his anxiety and sorrow, for they all remained silent. Even the most boisterous werewolf girl, Selena, simply stared blankly at the burning campfire, lost in thought.

All was silent except for the sound of the wind whistling through the rocks.

It was an ordinary night in the desert.

……

The next day, the travelers extinguished the campfire, buried the traces of the previous day's campsite, and continued their journey in search of the mysterious church. Led by Edwin, a native of the desert, they encountered no major troubles along the way. However, the monotonous, repetitive scenery—endless sand dunes and desolate red earth—was becoming increasingly tedious. After three days and nights of this trek, just as Selena was about to lose patience, the group finally discovered a clue.

However, it might not be a good lead.

"Pfft!"

The werewolf girl, Selena, moved like a silver-gray lightning bolt through the scorching air, her speed so great that it was difficult for the naked eye to follow, even mistaking the heat for a distortion of vision. Her claws slashed precisely and ruthlessly across the neck of the Imperial scout who tried to resist. Warm blood gushed forth instantly, drawing a blinding crimson arc under the blazing sun, splashing onto the parched sand with a sizzling sound like flesh being roasted, before being quickly absorbed by the greedy sand, leaving only a dark brown stain.

The scout's eyes widened in disbelief, a hissing sound escaped his throat, and the magic gun in his hand clattered to the ground. His body then slumped limply, raising a small cloud of dust.

Selena landed lightly on all fours, maintaining a wary posture after the hunt. She flicked her sharp claws, dislodging the sticky blood that left several dark spots on the sand. Her golden pupils narrowed into dangerous slits in the intense sunlight, like the most alert jackal in the desert, constantly scanning the surrounding jagged rocks and undulating dunes, her nostrils flaring rapidly, catching any suspicious movement.

"Behind the eastern rock pillar, there are three more!" The dark elf Kalia's cold voice came from above. Like a ghost, she habitually hid in the shadows of the weathered giant rock pillar, her amethyst skin gleaming subtly in the darkness. Her short bow was already fully drawn; the bow itself was crafted from some kind of dark wood and elven metal, its lines sleek yet deadly. The moment she finished speaking, an arrow was released, tearing through the air with a sharp whistle, followed immediately by a suppressed cry of pain and the thud of a heavy object hitting the ground in the distance.

Almost at the same moment Kalia issued her warning, Arnor moved. The power of Sequence 7 of the [Justice] pathway surged within him, granting him superhuman speed and precise judgment. His movements were sleek and efficient, like a battle-hardened killing machine, ghost-like as he weaved between the shadows of the two stone pillars, instantly closing in on another scout who was attempting to fire his gun.

The longsword was drawn, tracing a cold, silver arc. The opponent reacted quickly, unable to fire, and used the barrel of his gun to block Yanor's blade. Steel clashed with iron, producing a piercing metallic clang and a series of sparks. Yanor feigned a strong attack, attempting to break through the enemy's defenses head-on, but unexpectedly deflected the force, while his left leg, like a long-awaited spring, lashed out, striking the scout squarely in the chest. A teeth-grinding crack resounded, and the scout's breastplate visibly caved in. He was sent flying backward like a catapult, crashing heavily into the red rock wall behind him, sending sand and gravel tumbling down, before sliding to the ground like a puddle of mud, lifeless.

On the other side, the giant Gordan didn't even use the massive axe the size of a door on his back. Facing the last terrified enemy, he merely let out a deep, beast-like growl, yet one tinged with pleasure, and took two or three massive strides to catch up. His movements didn't seem fast, but they carried an unstoppable, overwhelming force, like a mobile fortress, easily seizing the scout's entire upper body, like an adult catching a struggling hare. With a slight exertion, the scout's eyes rolled back, and he couldn't even scream before instantly losing consciousness. Gordan casually tossed him to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust, as if he had merely discarded an insignificant piece of trash.

The poor fellow had directly endured the savage strength of the giant mercenaries, his body twisted beyond recognition, barely recognizable as human. Even his steel-cast magic gun was crushed into a jumbled mess, looking more like a discarded part from a workshop. Kalia, responsible for collecting the spoils, frowned, while Gordan grinned, revealing dazzlingly white teeth: "These days, even the Imperial scouts in the Burial Grounds are equipped with magic guns from the Western Continent. I think we'll have more and more weapons in the future."

After all, in his mind, what belonged to the enemy was always his own. "This is not good news," Kalia shook her head.

The Burial Grounds are a harsh environment, barren of resources. If it weren't for the mineral resources buried underground, the Imperial Army wouldn't even glance at it. Naturally, the troops stationed there are among the least valued in the Imperial Army. The fact that even troops of this caliber can be armed with Western Continent magical weapons shows that the so-called "reforms" within the Empire are not just empty words. This is undoubtedly adding insult to injury for the already struggling Holy War Army.

Selena let out a long sigh of relief after transforming back into human form. It wasn't that she felt any burden from fighting or killing; it was mainly because her sense of smell was far too acute in her werewolf form, and the girl particularly loathed the smell of blood. She had practically been fighting while suppressing the urge to vomit. In comparison, her human form was much better, which was one of the reasons she appeared in front of others more often in her human form.

The girl rubbed her nose vigorously, as if trying to wipe it clean, and muttered, "Whatever happens, right? The most important thing is getting information from the prisoners, isn't it? Speaking of which, there should be prisoners, right?"

She felt a little guilty, as she had been too excited during the fight to consider this point. However, Kalia had taken it into account and deliberately kept a prisoner for interrogation to extract information. After all, the appearance of this scout team was too strange, as the area was deserted and not within the Imperial Army's defense zone.

"Leave this to me."

The bard Edwin never directly participated in the battle. He stood quietly in the shadow of a distant dune, gently pressing his ancient rock flute to his lips without playing, as if merely sensing the flow of the wind. He was perceiving the battlefield in another way: through the subtle tremors of the sand beneath his feet and the distant breaths and sounds carried by the wind, he was alert to any potential enemies. This was a closely guarded skill of the Aksai, their greatest secret to thriving in this land of burial.

But Edwin was not only skilled in the Aksai’s ancestral techniques. Just as he took the initiative to interrogate prisoners without any questioning from Arnor and the others, interrogation, torture, and even execution were the areas in which this unique bard excelled.

Especially when facing Imperial soldiers, he wouldn't mind showing these arrogant and conceited fellows what barbarian tactics (the Imperials' derogatory term for the natives of the Burial Grounds) were like.

“Find out their mission and their target,” Janor said.

Edwin nodded slightly and dragged the prisoner, who was still barely breathing, behind a boulder. There, a suppressed wail and some strange, eerie sound could be heard, as if flesh and blood were being dismembered and then reassembled. It was hard to imagine what was happening behind the boulder. However, apart from Selena, who seemed slightly uncomfortable, everyone present remained expressionless and silently waited for the interrogation results.

A dozen minutes later, the commotion behind the boulder subsided, and the bard calmly emerged, wiping the blood from his hands with his cloak, seemingly unconcerned that the blood had soiled his clothes. For the Aksai people, the blood of their enemies was a testament to their glory.

“Bad news,” Edwin said succinctly. “They are the third infantry squadron of the Blackblade Legion’s Spellbreaker phalanx, ordered to search for a church that moves through the sky. They have reportedly found it, located in the Shattered Wind Canyon to the northwest.”

Arnor's face instantly darkened, as if covered with a layer of frost. A full-strength squadron of the Empire consists of at least 120 well-trained and well-equipped regular soldiers, led by an officer who is at least Sequence 8, or possibly even Sequence 7, and likely also has battle mages or artisans accompanying the troops.

There were only five of them.

“But there is some good news,” Edwin added. “The captain of the Third Squadron was ousted from the provincial capital due to a failed political struggle. He desperately needs merit to help him return to the ranks of senior officers. Therefore, this operation was a privately commissioned operation. Not only was he notified of the command headquarters, but soldiers were also strictly forbidden from leaking the information. So I estimate that the Black Blade Legion’s command structure is still unaware of this news.”

In other words, there is still time.

All we need to do is find those people before the Blackblade Legion moves out and cover their escape from the Burial Grounds. Perhaps we don't even need cover; just letting them know they're in danger is enough. With that giant whale that can soar through the skies, escaping danger is a piece of cake. The Imperial Army wouldn't deploy the Dragon Legion or Griffin Legion for a baseless piece of information.

But how can we get in touch with those people without the Third Squadron's notice?

Edwin spoke again, stroking the dark bronze rock flute in his hand, his gaze fixed on the northwest, as if listening to the whispers of the wind: "Shattered Wind Canyon... I know it. It's a strategic location with only one main entrance, easy to defend and difficult to attack. But the wind tells us there are other sounds, whether natural holes eroded by sandstorms or hidden tunnels through which underground currents flow. Only the piper who can listen to the whispers of the wind can hear them."

A sharp glint flashed in Arnor's eyes, and he made a decisive move: "Edwin, you lead the way. We'll set off immediately, taking a detour to find a path into the canyon. Gordan, check your equipment and be prepared to launch a full-scale attack and create chaos at any time. Kalia, you're in charge of long-range support, surveillance, and eliminating sentries. Selena..."

The werewolf girl immediately puffed out her chest, her furry ears standing straight up with tension and excitement: "I know! Use your sense of smell and hearing to scout ahead, find sentries and traps, and launch surprise attacks if necessary!"

“Remember,” Arnor’s gaze, almost tangible, slowly swept across the faces of each of his companions, finally settling on the northwest sky distorted by the heatwave, “our primary objective is to ascertain the situation at the church, contact those inside if possible, and assess the situation. Avoid direct combat with the Imperial army unless absolutely necessary. But if battle is unavoidable…”

He didn't finish, but everyone understood what he meant.

Give me some cats