This Lich Requests More Remuneration-Chapter 223 - 204 The Death of a Hero

Chapter 223: Chapter 204: The Death of a Hero

Chapter 223 -204: The Death of a Hero

The life and death of one man tied to the fate of a nation might sound ridiculous, but Silvermoon Knight Winston Lyte deserved such honor.

Everyone knew that Winston Lyte was the strongest Paladin, without equal.

Even the Founding Emperor, Arthur Laine, seemed inferior to this Silvermoon Knight according to historical records.

However, unlike many geniuses, Winston Lyte only achieved Legendary status at the old age of seventy-eight.

Compared to those Paladins who became Legendary in their forties or fifties, Winston Lyte’s talents were much less, and his battle achievements were not particularly dazzling.

But since his promotion began, Winston Lyte had pushed the gold content of Legendary to an unimaginably high level.

Being able to slay a Lich along with its Life Casket, that achievement had already shocked the entire Laine Empire, and the Emperor personally gave him the title of Silvermoon Knight, a title of honor independent of all others.

His Holy Light looked plain, but its purity surpassed everyone else’s, as if it were cast by a Deity themselves.

His Holy Slash had also evolved far beyond its original form, becoming incredibly powerful.

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He was not adept at leading troops, nor particularly skilled in politics, but his presence alone on the battlefield could change the tide of battle with just one sword strike.

Winston Lyte was the Laine Empire’s undefeated legend; no evil could withstand the edge of his sword.

But even such a Legendary among legends had finally reached the end of his days.

Inside the City of Fangs, a group of Paladins anxiously waited outside a room where the man over one hundred and fifty years old lay.

Winston Lyte lay in bed, his complexion jaundiced.

No matter how much vitality the Light Priests infused into him, they could only barely maintain his breathing.

Human bodies are too fragile. Even those who live a life of luxury can hardly reach one hundred and fifty years, let alone a man who has spent his life on the battlefield. His body bore not only the wrinkles of age but also scars from thousands of battles.

He was like an old cloth bag that had been patched over many years, and now even the original fabric had worn translucent. A gentle tug could turn it into fragments.

The Light Priest who had just performed Divine Arts shook his head at Allen Watson, standing by the bed, but didn’t dare to say half a word.

Allen Watson’s face revealed uncontrollable sadness.

The old man in the bed was not only a hero of the Empire but also his teacher.

Though Winston Lyte had never formally acknowledged it, he had withheld nothing from Allen. Not only had he used his fame to vouch for him, enabling him to become a Garrison Commander, but he had also taught Allen all his combat experience.

Even in battles against the Orcs, Winston Lyte insisted on keeping Allen by his side, despite numerous failures from the young man.

Allen, dedicated as always, had managed to hold a Legendary Orc by himself in a recent battle. Even though he sustained several wounds, he detained the Legendary known for stealth and ambush for two minutes, until other Paladins arrived to assist.

After his injuries had healed, Allen finally stepped into the Legendary Rank.

At just over twenty, Allen was the youngest Legendary Holy Warrior in the history of the Laine Empire.

Eager to share his joy with his mentor, Allen found that Winston Lyte had collapsed. The invincible man of the battlefield had fainted right before Allen’s eyes. Startled, Allen had quickly sent him for treatment, but the outcome was heartbreaking; he was beyond saving.

Allen didn’t know how to face this reality. He hadn’t spent much time with Winston Lyte but had come to view him as a teacher, even almost a father.

And just like that, after such a short period of togetherness, they were to be parted, even with the knowledge that his teacher would surely enter the Divine Realm of the Lord of the Dawn, Allen couldn’t stop his eyes from reddening.

Just as tears were about to spill, the old man on the bed suddenly laughed.

“Heh, why the tears? I’m not dead yet.”

Allen jumped, hurriedly looking at Winston Lyte, only to see his jaundiced complexion now inexplicably flush with vigor, as if he had regained his vitality.

But Allen knew well that this was his teacher’s last bit of life force. The old man was really leaving, perhaps with only minutes, or even seconds, to spare.

Allen wanted to reassure Winston Lyte, but as he opened his mouth and uttered half a sentence, “Teacher, I…”

In the end, Allen couldn’t hold back the tears.

Winston Lyte consoled, “It’s okay, cry if you want to. There’s no one else here anyway. But don’t just cry, I have a few words to tell you.”

Allen quickly wiped his tears and said, “Teacher, please instruct me.”

“It’s not an instruction, just… never mind, do you know why I never officially took you as a student?” Winston Lyte asked.

Allen replied, “You didn’t want me to feel too pressured.”

Winston Lyte said, “That’s right, no matter how others see it, you are not my student, and you don’t need to bear my responsibilities. Perhaps, you can survive.”

Winston Lyte had many disciples in his life, each a genius of the Empire, the most outstanding of the young people. They never disappointed Winston Lyte and were all heroes of the Empire.

It’s just a pity that the title of being a disciple of the Silvermoon Knight is too heavy a burden to bear.

As a disciple of the Silvermoon Knight, if you are not ten times stronger than others, can you feel proud? If you cannot turn the tide, what right do you have to be that great person’s disciple?

Although nobody would say this, everyone thought it, including the students of Winston Lyte, who would not allow themselves to be mediocre.

But the dangers of the battlefield never show favoritism because of a name, and all of Winston Lyte’s students died in battle, with some even falling before his very eyes.

Winston Lyte regretted that he shouldn’t have placed such pressure upon these still-unripe youths.

Allen, just like his other disciples, had exceptional talent. But he was also green, which is why he repeatedly failed at the hands of that Lich. This was not his fault; even Winston Lyte himself had been duped by the crafty Lich, whom the Empire should have placed at the top of its wanted list, instead of removing his name.

In the last days of his life, Winston Lyte imparted all he knew without giving Allen any status as a student, simply treating him as a “servant.”

By doing so, Allen wouldn’t have to bear the name of the Silvermoon Knight.

This young man should carve his own path. Perhaps he could become the Sun Knight, another grand hero of the Empire.

Winston Lyte was initially worried that Allen might not understand, so at the brink of death, he wanted to ease the young man’s burden of thoughts, only to find that Allen was smarter and more composed than he had imagined, having already seen through his well-intentioned but harsh mentorship.

In that case, there was nothing to worry about.

“Allen, I have three final pieces of advice for you, and you must remember them,” Winston Lyte said solemnly.

Allen said excitedly, “Please tell me, Teacher. I will remember them, even in death I will not forget!”

With great seriousness, Winston Lyte said, “Firstly, you cannot have any mercy for your enemies; to do so would be cruelty to yourself.”

Allen firmly said, “I remember, my sword will not hesitate when it falls.”

Winston Lyte nodded, continuing, “Secondly, recognize your enemies. Not only the Undead are evil in this world. The Empire internally harbors many hidden sins. Be sure to see them clearly.”

Allen, taken aback, said, “Teacher, what do you mean? The evils within the Empire?”

Allen’s father was the Supreme Decree of the Empire, the highest judge of the entire nation. If sins lay hidden, would his father be… either neglectful of duty or complicit?

Winston Lyte didn’t answer the question but continued, “Thirdly, we worship the Lord of the Dawn, the light and justice, not the words written in books, not the doctrines recited since childhood. When you are lost, always remember this!”

Allen felt there was something amiss. The more he listened to his teacher, the more unsettling it all sounded.

Was he confused in his final moments?

Unfortunately, Allen could not further seek clarification. After saying this, Winston Lyte closed his eyes, and his heartbeat began to fade rapidly—his life finally reaching its end.

Allen hastily allowed the Light Priests to come in. They clumsily performed the Divine Arts on Winston Lyte. Although knowing it was all without meaning, they also had to appear to try hard.

This was the Empire’s hero, after all. Not putting in enough effort, if word got out, would surely lead to blame.

Allen stood silently to the side, watching the Light Priests perform various Divine Arts on his teacher, keeping his heart, which should have stopped beating long ago, struggling on.

Winston Lyte’s brow furrowed, revealing an extremely pained expression.

How much torment was he enduring at that moment?

Allen couldn’t help but recall his teacher’s words. Forcing an old man, keeping him from passing away peacefully, only to prolong his suffering, was that light and justice too?

Allen roared angrily at the Light Priests, “Enough! Let the teacher go to the Divine Realm. Stop tormenting him!”

However, no one paid any attention to Allen’s roar.

Instead, another white-haired Paladin loudly said, “Is it your place to speak? Allen Watson, get out! The affairs of my grandfather are not for you to meddle with!”

This Paladin, named Anren Right, was already seventy years old, the blood grandson of Winston Lyte. He had long found Allen Watson disagreeable, resentful that his grandfather allowed this man to stay by his side, a privilege not even extended to him as a grandson.

Allen was left without words. The moment Winston Lyte closed his eyes, he became completely an “outsider.”

He took one last deep look at his teacher, who was still being resuscitated, then turned and left the room.

From today onward, he would have to walk the path ahead on his own.