MTL - Warhammer Inquisitor - Chapter 393 Crusade Road: A Gathering of Archons

The weak cry out with all their might, yet no one cares; The strong whisper softly, yet their words penetrate deeply into the heart. A Talent Tree ablaze with flames, every leaf bearing different spirit runes, Lu Ye, reduced to a mining slave after his sect was destroyed, used this to become a cultivator and stirred the winds of change in the Nine Provinces...

As a princess that could not wield magic, Princess Daphne’s only value to her kingdom was her arranged marriage. The task was simple, but when Daphne gets kidnapped and brought to the cold mountains of Vramid, she realizes that she’s in over her head.

She had heard of these cursed mountains before― rocky terrain, freezing temperatures, and the land was ruled by a man feared by many within the continent.

King Atticus Heinvres, the blood-thirsty ruler of the North.

Even though she had never met him before, tales were spread of King Atticus’s ruthlessness. Some said he was a monster, others claimed he was the devil himself, but whatever the story was, everyone knew of the man who had powers beyond anyone’s imagination. He could topple armies and crumble nations with just one wave of his hand, aided by what others rumored to be a cursed obsidian ring.

No one outside of Vramid had ever met the fearsome king before. Not until Daphne.

However, upon meeting the formidable man, Daphne found out that the king might not really be the monster others had claimed him to be.

In fact, what was hidden under that obsidian shield could just be a diamond in the rough.

―

[Excerpt]

“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

―

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Li Yao, a retired assassin, woke up one day to find herself transmigrated to ancient times and became a famous shrew far and wide.

With hands on her hips, she wailed loudly. Villagers called her the bane of ghosts, and even dogs would circle around when they saw her.

She had four children, her husband had passed away, and it was a disastrous year, leaving them poor as church mice.

Fortunately, River Bay Village was nestled against a big mountain, with wild chickens, wild boars, wolves, tigers, herbs, spices, corn, sweet potatoes, potatoes… it seemed to have everything.

Rely on the water to eat, and rely on the mountain.

With her skills that exceeded the times, Yao Li quickly became the wealthiest person in River Bay Village.

She was determined to stick to her original aspirations – retire and live out her remaining years in peace.

But as a widow, there were many things at her doorstep.

Her maiden family coveted her wealth; local ruffians lusted after her beauty; the magistrate admired her talents; the prefect wanted to rely on her to build up his political achievements; the scholar admired her literary talent; the chancellor respected her breadth of knowledge…

Wave after wave, wearing down her doorstep.

Even a Prince was amazed by her, finding all kinds of excuses to frequently visit and neglect his palaces.

Li Yao adapted to the circumstances, sparring back and forth, just wishing her retirement life would remain undisturbed.

But unknowingly, the world was changing because of her.

The dojo is located in Yunzhong Mountain, and there are halls and fields.

Sitting under the ginkgo tree in leisure time, looking at the dust and clouds in the distance,

Hoe the ground and listen to the sound of springs, forge swords by the fire,

Food and clothing are up to oneself and God,

I don’t know the end of the cold year;

When the robbery comes, you have to go to the lower reaches of the mountain to watch the bitterness and sweetness of the world.

It’s hard to keep injustice in your eyes, and you don’t like to show it in front of others.

The gourd of wine at the waist is deep, and the light of the sword behind the back is cold,

Not for fame, not for money,

Be a free spirit.

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