Shadow of the Evil God

Does this mean that his blocking technique is not right?

"This guy's swordsmanship..." Diana suddenly said, "How can I describe it? I can't say for sure, but it reminds me of the Kuna sword dancers. They have many sword sects, and now only the royal family's sect has been passed down to the Sasule people. There are many other factions that have been completely lost, having disappeared in the years between eras."

Cesar wondered why the Kuna were everywhere, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. He'd misjudged the first strike he'd blocked, causing his arm to completely absorb the incoming slash, which would lead to even greater trouble.

Chapter 187 They Found the Wrong Owner

However, Cesar knew one thing: the Kuna were truly martial. If he encountered a Kuna sword dancer versed in magic, like Ajeh's father, Iskrig, his fate would be in jeopardy. Such an incomprehensible being couldn't be easily dealt with by the Overa School's Ritual Stones or the Faceless Ones. Add to that Iskrig's unisex charm, and his presence would be absurd.

Gouzi continued to strike, her movements subtle but precise. With a twist of her wrist, she thrust a powerful stab straight at his chest. Cesar had said beforehand that they shouldn't worry about injuries when striking, and that it didn't matter if they didn't cut the man in two before remembering to stop. Consequently, there wasn't a single part of his body he hadn't been wounded by her strikes lately.

At first, Diana's eyebrows twitched when she saw the blood splattered on the two of them, but later, like Phils, she got used to it and began to express various comments and opinions.

Cesar swung his sword with all his might, the blades clashing with a resounding clang, deflecting her thrust to his side. Before he could retract his sword, Gouzi's wrist dropped, accelerating her movement. The blade slashed forward, slicing through the clothing on his shoulder. The wound sliced ​​from chest to shoulder, spurting blood. He barely had time to cry out in pain before she twisted her wrist and stabbed him in the face again, knocking him and his hastily raised blade back two steps.

The Faceless Man's attacks became more and more fluent, but he became more and more embarrassed the more he blocked them. He was so flustered that he had to rely entirely on his sensory reactions.

The pain from the sword wound was mild, but the numbness in the muscles and the pain in the bones were truly intense. An ordinary human would have been unable to endure the excruciating pain and would have simply abandoned the sword and committed suicide. He, however, wanted to break apart and escape his human form. Admittedly, that wasn't much better than abandoning the sword and committing suicide.

Hastily, Cesar reached out for the dog's blade, and she stopped swinging the sword and gently sheathed it. "That's all for today," he gasped, then realized his fingers were numb and he couldn't sheathe the sword properly.

Gouzi came over to catch the sword and sheath it for him. Cesar sat down on the wooden post, lowering his arms, trying to ease the increasing pain. Numbness spread from his bones to his muscles, like waves of paralyzing poison. He found Byakugan's swordsmanship incomprehensible. Even if he blocked it, it would severely damage the victim's bones and muscles. He didn't know why Gouzi couldn't describe it, nor could he teach anyone else.

It was as if something was limiting Byakugan's memory.

"Don't move, let me observe."

Cesar looked up at Diana's words and watched as she lifted her right arm, peering down from the wound in her shoulder, tapping with her fingers, examining the various spots on her fingertips. "I seem to have some recollection... If I could find some fragments of information from the literature and piece them together, perhaps I could recreate the original book with examples of her swordplay," she said.

"Are you serious?"

"Let's deal with your bones and muscles first." Diana didn't care what he thought. "It won't be difficult for you. Just bear with it for now. This spell is very irritating and will be a bit painful. It might hasten death for an ordinary human, but it's just right for you."

"What—" Before Cesar could finish his words, he felt a surge of electricity pierce through his fingertips, piercing his right arm and radiating throughout his body. Unable to control himself, his spine gave way and he fell backward, his head and back resting on the dog. His scalp tingled, his body trembling, and he couldn't even feel the touch of her soft breasts. "Thank you," he exhaled after a long moment.

Diana folded her arms and looked at him. "I'm surprised you even said thank you," she said with a smile. "Is it because you're on the march that you can't let go?"

"I don't have the energy to express my emotions," Cesar said, raising his hand. A lifelike eagle landed on his hand, and in an instant, it split into a multitude of scarlet, inhuman-looking goblins. Several, sensing the scent of blood, pounced directly on his shoulder. "Where to?" He reached out and grabbed the leading one. Tentacle-like shadows rose from his arms, tightly enveloping the others who were trying to cause trouble.

"What happened?" he asked Diana.

This person communicated with the goblin using sounds so subtle that it was impossible for a human to make.

"They say there's another tribe ahead," Diana told him. "There's even a village, but it's an abandoned hunting ground. If you keep your promise and sacrifice the entire tribe to them, they'll acknowledge you as their leader. But if you let them eat rats again, they'll slaughter a bunch of mercenaries and go off to hunt as they please elsewhere in Olidan."

"What? Tsk, okay, I know why old Sean thinks they're troublesome. I'll ask Aya to organize a vanguard. We'll go over there and check out the situation later. Everyone else, please stand by and hold off on the march. Also, can you go? I haven't learned how to communicate with them yet."

"I can't. I haven't gained much in the wilderness lately, and Firth is still meditating in the tent over there. I can't go too far," Diana said. "You should find a way to call Ajeh out to help you."

"Ajehe doesn't come out when she should, but she's very active when she shouldn't," Cesar complained again. "I'll see if I can get her out. Anyway, we have to go to the village to investigate and find out exactly which group of beastmen these are."

"matter

"There are priorities," Diana said, "but after that, you'll have to decide whether to go to Gural Fortress first or pursue the beastmen first. Or you can split your forces. If it doesn't take long, I can use my family's name to suppress the mercenaries."

"All right," Cesar said, watching Diana return to the tent. It was now fully dawn. These vicious little goblins scouted at night, dozed off during the day on Diana's supply convoy, and served as mysterious wizard guards. At first glance, they seemed to be getting along well with the marching troops, but in reality, it was a bit forced.

Either sacrifice an entire town or an entire tribe of beastmen...

As expected, even Old Thane finds them annoying. Cesar thought, where does their appetite come from? They're dreaming of sacrificing the Beastmen who came to Noyen for a group of mimic goblins. Sacrificing an entire town's worth of people is absolutely impossible, given Old Thane's emphasis on Noyen's finances and population.

In other words, these vicious little goblins were nothing more than useless creatures in the old man's eyes, a bunch of little monsters whose existence would be better than their non-existence. After this sacrifice was completed, who knew what they would want next. Normal cultists would certainly try to satisfy their desire to sacrifice an entire town's worth of people, hoping for a transformation. However, Sean Borgia, who exploited Neuen's trade and economy to the utmost, and whose demands for money were increasing...

They really chose the wrong master.

Chapter 188: Hybrid Beastman

......

Ten days had passed since Cesar had dealt with Gonzales' affairs and was on his way to Fort Gular, carrying a large amount of military supplies. They were now midway through the province of Cleon, where the fortress was located. He planned to repair and rebuild Fort Gular once he secured it. He also planned to survey all the towns along the way to establish a reliable supply transport route.

They rode toward the ruins of the village, leaving the camp's tents behind. Cesar passed by groups of mercenaries servicing their muskets, looking around absentmindedly and waving to the junior officers who had just received their pay. The camp was still half asleep in the early morning, like a crisscrossing jungle, and here and there, a bonfire still lit could be seen.

Compared to the attached camp, this at least resembled a military camp, with proper weapons, a minimum level of fighting spirit, and some armor that offered some protection, even if many were just thick leather. However, one could still spot some drunken soldiers and fools who had spent the night in the attached camp. The officers, fully paid, were happy to punish them, teaching them the discipline of commission. This was the requirement Cesar and Artinia had negotiated: if paid, they were expected to abide by their employer's military laws. Violators would be dealt with harshly, as a warning to everyone else.

For many mercenary soldiers who were accustomed to lawless behavior, it was impossible to rectify them without strict military law and officers willing to serve. For those who refused to change their ways, he would rather find a tree to hang them and let the marching team pass under their bodies, rather than wait for the incident to happen and then clean up the mess.

Of course, the reason some soldiers spent the entire night in the encampment was because it was a town, not a military camp. In the encampment were washerwomen who crowded the riverbank at night, small vendors selling various items, questionable rural doctors, blacksmiths who maintained weapons, porters who sold their labor, groups of noisy mercenary children, and some mercenaries' wives, young or not, who were brought along on their marches.

Some mercenary wives, if they were good-looking, would solicit overnight customers to earn some money, and this was the reason why many mercenaries stayed overnight and forgot to return to the team. Their husbands always lived a better life than other mercenary colleagues, but not as well as the prostitutes who gathered together with farm tools.

Strict military law could control the marching troops, but it had limited control over the accompanying troops. After all, they were not combatants, but mobile towns that provided various services to the army.

Beyond the secular world, what caught Cesar's attention most were the petty priests of various religious sects. These sects usually had their own strongholds in towns and were rarely seen. But when they arrived at the military encampment, they immediately displayed their abilities. Some sang hymns, some lit incense, some solicited donations from prostitutes to provide them with blessed rose essence, and some loudly advertised the efficacy of their holy oils as enhancing sexual pleasure. Most of the petty priests looked like vendors, except that they didn't need a charter to make a living within the military.

Many young priests are busy peddling goods that they claim are blessed by God, and it seems that they are not even willing to preach.

They gradually left the camp, riding along a bare, stone path, skirting a rickety old tree several dozen meters tall, and traversing the sparse undergrowth, heading ever further towards the village. The sun, pale and dim, hung on the eastern hilltops, like an elderly man slowly moving with the aid of a cane. Much of Cleon, like Gonzales, was dry and arid, with limited arable land. Fortunately, it was rich in minerals, and numerous local towns had been built around the mining of open-pit minerals and stone.

When the goblins, disguised as eagles, landed on his hand again, Cesar realized they were approaching the village. He signaled his team to be on high alert, and after a while, they found the first dead body—just a shriveled human skin hanging from an old crooked tree, looking like a pale, curled flag.

He placed the mimic eagle on his shoulder and led the team forward, only ordering them to remove it when they reached the corpse. It was indeed just a human skin, the inside removed very cleanly, without any trace of muscle or blood. If this was a hunt, then the predator must have had a very particular way of eating.

"What do you think?" Cesar asked Altinya.

"I think with Beastmen heading south to attack settlements, Gural Fortress is in serious trouble." She addressed a problem that Cesar hadn't immediately noticed. "Either the fortress's pitiful defenders have been massacred, or the fortress's defenders have simply ignored the Beastmen community, allowing them to cross the border with their prey without any intervention. If so, we need to consider retaking the fortress. If so... we might have to consider enforcing Auridan's martial law."

This guy is worthy of the education he received in a military academy. He thinks about things differently from him.

They continued on, another stream of curled human skins fluttering in the wind. Since the hunt had left no trace, not even vultures or crows were visible nearby to feed on the corpses. Cesar looked up, his gaze sweeping across the seventeen skins of men, women, and children, all of them naked, their hair intact, and empty inside. In the pale sunlight, a light from behind shone through.

"What do you think this means, sir?" Altinya asked him.

"Either they were offering sacrifices to the gods, or they were marking out their hunting territory like many wild animals.

"As for offering sacrifices to the gods, I know nothing about the religion that worships Analik. But if you are demarcating hunting territories, it is important to mark the location of these human skins on the map," said Cesar.

The princess nodded in agreement and immediately summoned their cartographer to record the location and number of these human skins on the map based on the terrain features.

Cesar waited for a long time, a long while, until Ajeh's cloaked silhouette appeared before him. This person never appeared in a crowd, even if they couldn't see her, as if she didn't bother to engage in conversation with him in public. His speech in public and his private conversations were completely different, and she probably just wanted to hear the unvarnished version.

"Are you an idiot? Calling me out for something like this?" Ajeh complained. "This is the smell of the most common beastmen. Those hybrid beastmen without any tribe to speak of."

"How exactly?"

"Specifically? These creatures have goat horns, wolf fangs, rat eyes, bull hooves, brown bear claws—a jumble of limbs and organs, covered in mottled fur. Aside from their muscular, human-like bodies, they lack any ethnic characteristics. The specific beast's head on their necks is also random. Their intelligence is low, their behavior chaotic. Without the restraint of shamans or chiefs, they will mate indiscriminately, regardless of gender, and are keen on fighting and devouring each other. Their speech is nothing but gibberish roars and barks. However, they do hang leftover carcasses from trees, perhaps as a display of prowess."

"Why do I feel like they're very particular about eating people?" Cesar asked her.

"A pack leader of unknown purpose is behind this," Ajeh said. "The smell of it is obscured by the pungent scent of the hybrid beastmen; I can't smell it. You don't need to be wary of the entire pack. Prepare your muskets, raise your spear formations, and load your cannons with ammunition, and you can easily crush them. The only problem is the pack leader."

Cesar relayed her thoughts to Artinia. The princess pondered for a moment, brushing away flies with her armored gloves. Then she turned and instructed her officers to step up their guard and prepare for battle.

"Mixed beastmen are indeed the most commonly used military slaves and forced laborers in the Empire," she finally said. "People don't expect military slaves and forced laborers to have any intelligence or thinking. They just want to be whipped and forced to work and fight. In fact, if we really talk about werewolves specifically, we rarely see such obvious beastman populations within the Empire."

"So..." Cesar paused, "A population of distinct beastmen has long existed further north in the Kasar Empire? They don't seem to care about the plight of the hybrid beastmen?"

"I can only offer a few theories," Altinia said, dusting off the kilt beneath her leggings. "The most popular theory currently holds that, for unknown reasons, a large number of shamans favored by the alien god Analik emerged among the hybrid beastmen. Seizing the opportunity to lead the empire in a massive rebellion, these hybrid beastman shamans seized the opportunity to lead the empire in a conflict."

"What about those beastmen with obvious characteristics?" Cesar asked her.

"They seem to care neither about the plight of the hybrid beastmen nor about their enslavement by the Kasar Empire. Most scholars believe they exist for some deeper purpose. High and mighty, aren't they? The Empire has been wary of them for centuries, but they have only had minor conflicts with the Empire, and the two sides are clearly divided."

"So, what do you think happened that allowed them to flock south without any hindrance?"

"I think something's wrong on the northern border," Altinia sighed softly. "It's like the choice that Gural Fortress might make: either suffer heavy casualties or abandon it and focus all its efforts on the civil war. Now that it's happened, let's just accept it as the way things are."

"Is this how things are in the world?" Cesar looked at her.

"In the face of internal disputes, those long-held promises and expectations are always abandoned..." she said, "just like beliefs are always shattered by reality. In the past, I also wanted to believe in some idealistic things, but like childhood memories, they always fell further and further away."

Chapter 189 Where is Solaire?

......

A bull, a bull again, but even a bull is better than a wild dog. Its body is strong and sturdy, its hooves are tough and powerful, and its horns can be sharp as knives with a little sharpening. He is a wizard, and even if his face can't be grafted onto a lion, it won't grow on a miserable stray dog, right?

Carrion sighed softly and looked up at the crimson sky. He saw ravens flying and circling, searching for the bodies, but as they approached the sacrificial grounds, they fell one by one, as if their wings had suddenly been broken. Although they struggled desperately, no matter how hard they struggled, they could not stop their bodies from falling, and finally all fell into the pit of flesh and blood in the center of the town.

These little corpse-eating creatures have always been frequent visitors to battlefields, traveling between blood and fire to seek food and survive. Even if all humans are dead, they will not die out. However, unfortunately, today, the calendar does not record wars and massacres, but rituals to worship the gods, and they can also become part of the ceremony.

Carrion lay beside the shaman, overlooking the town square from the top of the church bell tower. On normal days, the stench below would make his limbs go weak and he would vomit continuously until he was completely exhausted. The first time, he even vomited out all his saliva, but he still felt his stomach rumbling and regurgitating cud.

However, he has probably gotten used to it recently.

The entire town, centered around the square, gradually sank, forming a vast, shattered crater. A surge of blood floated high in the air, circling the town from the entrance, eventually returning to its starting point and connecting end to end, forming a massive crimson ring. Blood rained down from the ring, surging along the ravines torn through the town. It swept out the residents hiding in basements and houses, sweeping them into the sinkhole at the center of the square.

The pit of flesh and blood sank lower and lower, and the people who poured into it piled up more and more, forming layers upon layers. The houses of the entire town tilted and bent, their backs hunched, clinging to the gradually forming steep slope like kneeling prayers. The town guards who had initially resisted were all dead, their bodies piled against the crumbling walls, impaled on the wooden signs of street corner shops, and curled up in the filthy gutters. Soon, their bodies were washed away by the blood and peeled away, merging into the center of the square.

"Hail! Hail! Praise the true God! Our disaster is over. Let's cheer for the era that belongs to us!"

Groups of hybrid beastmen howled outside the blood pool, using hollowed-out bones as flutes to produce shrill, hoarse music, carefully flayed human skins as drums, beating them under stone drumsticks, and ripping stomachs into instrument bags, filling them with stones and shaking them to produce rustling sounds. The primitive instrumental music made them excited and added to the frenzy of the ceremony.

Finally, the entire town was washed clean, its people united in a roiling pit of flesh and blood, as if in a giant boiling cauldron. The limbs of the living and the dead were intertwined, indistinguishable from one another, like a woven carpet; struggling bodies rose and fell in the pool of blood, emitting wailing cries. Dozens, hundreds of people struggled to the edge of the pit, scrambling to climb out, but they all fell down the slippery slope, landing on the faces of those who had just emerged from the pool of blood, splashing blood everywhere.

The sky had turned a crimson crimson, and within the deep pit of flesh and blood, the bodies scattered like a dense swarm of maggots. Their lips moved, uttering fragmented words like the buzzing of mosquitoes. Their bloodshot eyes swirled around, their bodies stained with sticky blood, their mouths filled with hot, foul gore, as they rose and fell in the swamp.

Suddenly, everyone stopped, frozen in place, motionless. The shaman sat in the void, holding his staff high, making a deafening sound. Groups of mixed beastmen immediately opened their arms and stepped into the pool of blood. Then, everything changed.

The wailing disappeared, the terrified struggles disappeared, and people cheered with bloodshot eyes, as if they suddenly felt sweetness. Many people whose faces were originally full of pain were now in a trance, with happiness overflowing on their faces, as if their souls had melted with sweetness, as if a candle was roasted by fire.

These people were immersed in a pool of blood. The miserable sounds were gone, replaced by murmurs, the rustling of clothes, kisses, and continuous panting. Flesh and flesh were entangled with each other, sticking together in ecstasy, like a huge body with hundreds of limbs, wriggling under the blood-red sky.

He saw bloody bodies entangled with livestock and wild beasts, like maggots surrounding a giant insect, gnawing at it, like male and female spiders coiled together in a web woven from corpses, devouring each other and forgetting everything.

He used his third vision to catch a glimpse of the echo of the blood pool, reached out and touched it lightly, and suddenly his whole body was shocked - he also saw what people saw.

The beastmen's mottled hides shed, revealing towering, godlike forms. The male and female figures were all young and beautiful, with fair skin and cheerful smiles on their faces. The bone instruments they held transformed into verdant branches, and the entrails of the dead transformed into delicious fruit, floating in the warm, blue lake that had once been a pool of blood, shimmering with a crystal-clear light.

The deep pits of flesh and blood turned into blue lakes; the chaotic rituals of the beastmen turned into joyful festivals; the monsters with chaotic body structures turned into beautiful goblins with animal ears, horns or hooves; the rickety and broken town buildings became

Looking around from the church that has turned into a marble column, you can see the clear blue sky, the blooming flowers by the lake, and the lake is full of exquisite silver tableware and fresh fruits that do not need to be peeled.

Bathed in sunshine and clear springs, people gathered around the fairies and statues, dancing and singing, opening their arms to them and kissing their beautiful and amazing bodies.

There was a noise...

The rotting flesh obliterated the eerie vision. Beautiful woodland fairies instantly transformed into hideous monsters, and idols transformed into gigantic beastmen. The azure lakes turned crimson, and the lush forests returned to their natural state, transforming into the gradually crumbling buildings of the town. Dead limbs and viscera floated among the layers of humans, livestock, and beastmen, seemingly melting. Many of them melted too, like salt blocks dropped into boiling water, leaving only empty skins.

But others were being distorted, imbued by the frenzied ritual, their souls no longer sealed, their bodies absorbing the sticky, foul blood, swelling. Some humans, able to endure the ritual, were transformed, their flesh taking on the appearance of beastmen. Still others surged toward the bull, squeezing into its massive, ripped-open frame as if returning to its mother's womb. The bull roared, each one louder than the last, rumbling through the town, making the rotting flesh feel as if the blood in its veins were curdling and the hair on its head stood on end.

“The warriors who died with regret always return.” The shaman’s voice echoed through the black mask that resembled a twisted tree canopy, like an echo from the cave. “Even though their tribes have perished and their ancestors no longer exist.”

The beast's body grew larger, and more and more humans, melting like candles, poured into it. Its face was like a brown jackal, its pupils erect, its fangs stained with blood, and its massive, curved horns looked like they could use millstones as horn rings. Its massive body no longer resembled that of a bull, but rather that of an ape riddled with cracks. No matter how many more humans, melting like candles, rushed in, they couldn't mend the cracks in its flesh.

Some ancient scar?

It stood up, and the rotten flesh heard a low tearing sound. The space between it and the church door suddenly became blurred, the light distorted, the sound fragmented, as if the skin of the world was forced to bend and tighten like human skin, revealing a straight, dark crack nearly five meters wide. It disappeared from the pool of blood, and the people in its path were shattered like smoke blown by the wind, and pieces of flesh flew high into the sky.

Then, it crushed the ground in front of the church with one hooves.

The rift in the world closed, and it growled at the shaman, seemingly moving nearly a hundred meters through some unreal means. Rotten Flesh discovered that this creature stood as tall as the chapel, and its body was oozing not with blood, but with flowing shadows, especially from the scars on its horns.

The carrion looked from the church towards the blood pool, seeing a series of collapsed and disintegrated building ruins along the way. It seemed to penetrate these town buildings without any obstruction or impact, but as it penetrated them, the buildings themselves were greatly impacted, leaving only broken bricks and stones and broken roads along the way.

“You are still as wild as ever, Nauzog,” the shaman said.

"Where is Soleil?" Nauzog roared, his eyes almost frantic. "Where is she? I'm going to rip her head off and put it on my horn ring!"

"There is no Sky Lord Solaire anymore," the shaman said methodically. "She is lost on the other side of the Age of Gods, out of touch with time. Like all exiled gods, she can no longer reconnect with the mortal world. There's no more complete death than this, not to mention that she wasn't a god in the first place."

Nauzog's eyes suddenly calmed, as if filled with disappointment. "How tragic," it said. "A hero, elevated to godhood by mortals, ultimately finds himself lost in the Age of Gods. So, what time is it now?"

"It was over a thousand years after you were killed by Solaire," the shaman said. "Forgive me for using such a weak gesture to call you back to existence, but the world is mired in the quagmire of order, and the prophets who call upon the true God are seeking our aid. Our race has all perished, and apart from these primitive and ignorant hybrids, I have no other race to command."

"What about those tribes that haven't perished yet?"

"They... don't want to help me. Perhaps it's because of different philosophies. The ancient covenant only exists between those ancestors. It's hard to say how much similarity we, their descendants, have."

Chapter 190: The Operation of the Clock

"Continue south," Nauzog said in a low voice. "My mind is still empty, and my body is weak. I need to sacrifice more lives, not just these insignificant mortals."

The shaman nodded in agreement. "The kingdoms in this area are at war, and the various temples are in conflict. If the time is right, you might be able to find some monks fighting outside."

.......

After an investigation, Cesar discovered the village to be nothing more than a ruin. Aside from the human skins hanging outside, the only problem was that both the livestock and humans were missing, and there was no trace of the blood that would have been seen from the mauling of living creatures. Artinya believed that the beastmen had abducted the humans and livestock, apparently intending to gather them for some kind of sacrificial ritual. Otherwise, the hybrid beastmen would never have restrained themselves to such an extent.

At dawn the next day, the goblins brought news that the town to the west had become a bloody pit. Inside the town, there were many half-beastmen who had not fully transformed. They wandered around like madmen who had lost their souls, seemingly abandoned by the community. The hybrid beastmen at least had human-like intelligence. These half-human monsters, as the products of the transformation failure, were often even more stupid than the beasts themselves.

Furthermore, the traces of intense magic had disrupted reality, causing severe damage. The town's ruins had become akin to a wasteland. The goblins said that many corpse fragments had coalesced into bloated aggregates, writhing in the pits. Deep within the pits, where sunlight couldn't reach, were vengeful spirits, condensed into vague forms, wailing.

Theoretically, people should ask the temple to deal with such situations, but now it is wartime, and the goblins said there are remnants of sacrifices there, so Cesar decided to take them there first to see if he can alleviate their insatiable desire.

When Cesar passed the main tent, he found that Artinia had not slept all night. Before dawn, she was brandishing a sword in the camp, as if some scene had triggered her memories of the past.

This was actually quite rare. Ever since Cesar met her, her sleep rhythm had been remarkably regular, and this was only part of her rigorous self-discipline. Ever since Artinia had accepted him as her teacher, or perhaps even before, she had been engaged in relentless military training. She not only sought to delve into the military art of this era, but also into the military art of past eras as recorded in historical records, and the feasibility of various tactics he proposed. Furthermore, she aspired to master the functions of ordinary soldiers.