Chapter 24: Insect-like Villagers
"Bam—"

"Hiss."

Endless white mist burst out from the linen balls on the wooden frame of the cross, enveloping Horn and the armored sergeant who was pressing him.

The thick mist was like a barrier, and no one could see the scene clearly.

The villagers immediately exclaimed in surprise. You know, holy water and wine are the two major sources of commercial profit for the church.

For these poor villagers, it is a sin to use something as expensive as holy water on the saint's grandson.

But some people do have doubts.

After all, the villagers were not really that stupid. Many people noticed something strange about the binding between the saint and her grandson.

"Everyone, let's wait and see what happens!"

An armed farmer dissuaded him hypocritically, and then looked eagerly towards the white mist.

Under the persuasion of the armed farmer, the villagers who came later gradually stopped.

Faced with the assurances of a clergyman with an official status and a legitimate demon hunter, the long-docile villagers of the Thousand Valley hesitated.

They no longer threw stones or mud at the soldiers, but stood there neither advancing nor retreating.

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

The Iron-Tooth Monk straightened his back, the corners of his mouth slightly raised, and his compassionate eyes seemed to be able to penetrate the white mist with a golden luster.

This holy water grenade is not just ordinary holy water, but holy water that is concentrated to the extreme and has other expensive spices added to it.

Not to mention ordinary people, even if an armored soldier using the second-stage breathing method inhales too much, it will be affected, let alone ordinary people.

Even if he was not deeply influenced by the witch, at least he could take the opportunity to attack her and buy time.

"The holy water mist is about to dissipate. Watch carefully. If he has nothing to do with the devil, let me burn him to death..."

"A-choo!" A sneeze came from the mist, and the situation in the mist gradually became apparent.

The armored sergeant was still riding on Horn's waist, but his expression seemed to be in a trance, while Horn was struggling constantly and even shouting.

"Look, believers, I'm fine, they are the devil!"

At a speed visible to the naked eye, the Iron-Tooth Monk's face turned pale. He even took several steps towards the dangerous "secret party" and growled in disbelief: "Impossible! This is impossible!"

"Now that things have come to this, what are you still waiting for?" Horn did not feel any reaction at all. Instead, the armored sergeant inhaled too much holy water and fell into a trance.

"It's clear who the devil is!" Horn struggled and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Don't be bewitched and contaminated by the devil."

This was the first time he had suffered such a big loss since he traveled through time. Faced with life and death, he could not maintain his original calm attitude.

The villagers who had been hesitant before suddenly showed fear and determination on their faces.

Even though only ten soldiers dared to step forward to rescue, the rest of the people either helped Shi Ruyu to throw stones or shouted to cheer them on, and few dared to escape.

"Whoever rescues me or captures and kills those demons will be made bishop of the village church and granted a hundred acres of land. This will be granted immediately after the flood recedes!"

Being pressed to the ground by the armored sergeant, Horn made the promise loudly regardless of the consequences.

After hearing Horn's promise, the villagers who were closer suddenly brightened up and immediately rushed towards the armored soldiers with pitchforks and sticks in their hands, shouting.

With someone taking the lead, the rest of the people began to rush towards Ji Luo and his group one by one.

Seeing that things were going out of control, Ji Luo had no time to regret. He grabbed the arm of the Iron-Tooth Monk who was still mumbling to himself and shouted at the guards: "Let's kill them together."

"They want to escape!"

"Kill the devil and don't look back!"

Three or five young refugees rushed towards Horn. Most of them were hooligans and ruffians. They were not lacking in courage but lacked in brains.

Stepping on a rotten wooden board, the leading young refugee leaped up and faced the confused and surprised expression of the armored soldier with a powerful jump.

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

The bright red tip of the sword pierced through the bony body. Torn tendons and flesh hung on the white bones, and yellow and green intestines slid out of the abdominal cavity like a waterfall.

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

The villagers who were charging forward collectively at the beginning immediately braked.

"Don't bother, let's go!" Jilo pulled the monk and slowly retreated.

Seeing the witcher retreat, the remaining soldiers followed suit, but because there were two wounded, they were not very fast.

As for the villagers of Moulin Rouge, no matter how Horn shouted, they would take a step forward if Gilo took a step back, and would not move unless Gilo retreated. If Gilo moved forward, they would retreat.

Keep a distance that's neither too far nor too close, and just follow.

There were only a few of them, except for the godchildren of the Children's Army, and the other thirty or so young men present did not dare to take the initiative to attack. Horn could not believe his eyes.

Fortunately, they were not allowed to fight against the knights in the first place. Otherwise, with this performance, there is a 100% or even 90% chance that they will be easily suppressed by the knights.

How did I come up with the idea of ​​getting involved with this group of insects?

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

In the past, they would immediately hand over their weapons and surrender at the command of the Iron-Tooth Monk.

With a muffled groan, the armored soldier who was shot in the knee pulled out the wooden arrow.

After all, it was a traditional arrow-making method, with the front end of the arrow tip simply burned black and hardened, without any metal barb.

Throwing away the blood-stained arrow, the soldier who was shot took out a wooden pipe from his pocket, took a sip, and threw the pipe to the night guard who was shot in the arm.

After taking the church's hemostatic and analgesic potion, the tall night guard and the armored sergeant with an arrow in the knee turned red and gasped, as if the previous bloody wounds didn't hurt anymore.

At this moment, the young boys with short legs who couldn't run fast finally rested, bandaged their wounds, and continued to rush towards the tall guards without armor.

Standing beside the body of the short guard, the tall guard learned the lesson from his companions and truly regarded these children as opponents worthy of fighting.

He shook his hooked spear, hitting the spear shafts of the boy soldiers left and right, forcing them to expose their center line.

The armored soldier took the opportunity to charge forward. If he hadn't had a leg injury and was unable to move, the child soldiers would have died eight times already.

After all, the child soldiers had received too little training and were too young. They were able to kill the first guard by a sneak attack, but they were unable to achieve the same results as before against the prepared adult guards and armored sergeants.

In front of the two adults, the child soldiers were at a loss, and the long spears in their hands seemed to be unstable.

The ground was slippery, and Futseva, the only little girl in the child army, lost her balance and suddenly fell backwards while retreating.

The tall night guard stepped forward, passed Duvalon who was standing in the front row, and aimed his harpoon at Futseva's throat.

Without caring about anything else, Du Valon turned around like a loach and pounced on Futseva, exposing his back to the sharp hook.

A sharp object cut through the air, and the smell of blood seemed to have penetrated into the nose.

As the tip of the grappling spear was about to pierce Duvalon's thin back, a bright golden color quickly captured everyone's vision.

At the critical moment, the night watchman's harpoon was firmly blocked by the bright gold.

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

In the center of the flag, a rich golden holy grail was emitting a dazzling light.

Such a soft flag, when the sharp blade of the harpoon passed through it, there was actually a sound of metal friction amidst the sparks.

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

Holding the lance horizontally, Jeanna silently jumped and stepped on the pole of the lance, using the force to catapult herself forward. The tip of the lance turned into a golden line and pierced the guard's chest.

After all, the guard had been through a life-and-death fight. He dodged to the side and the stab was redirected from the chest to the shoulder.

But the eggs are of no use.

The night watch guard didn't have time to say another word as ten tree-branch-like blood marks extended from the place where the flagpole pierced his body to other parts.

Blisters like volcanic craters appeared on the night guard's skin. He was paralyzed all over and couldn't even scream.

Bloody steam emanated from his eye sockets; it was the liquid in his eyeballs boiling.

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

Kneeling on the ground, the guard exhaled a puff of light red steam, and then lay peacefully on the mud.

The armored soldier at the side quickly jumped out from the side and swept his sword across, trying to cut open Jeanna's soft waist and abdomen.

But Jeanna didn't even look at him. She stretched out her empty palm and two bolts of lightning pierced into the armored soldier's mouth, which was wide open.

"what--"

Amidst the piercing howls, the soldier fell to his knees as if petrified.

Blood flowed out of his nostrils and ear holes. The soldier's mouth was split into four parts and the oral mucosa fell off his mouth.

He covered his throat and coughed violently, with coagulated blood and rotten flesh falling from his mouth. He almost coughed out his lungs, let alone picked up the sword.

Stepping on the limp bodies of the guards with her cowhide boots, Jeanna held her lance horizontally and focused her silent and disgusted gaze on Gilo and the Iron-Tooth Monk.

It’s over.

Both Jilo and the Iron-fang Monk had the same thought in their minds.

(End of this chapter)