Chapter 62: I Told You, Anglers Can Catch Anything Except Fish! (Fourth Chapter)

Accompanied by the man's voice, a soft series of footsteps eerie and distinct drilled into everyone's ears.

Following the sound, the crowd watched as an extraordinarily handsome man, bathed in starlight, slowly stepped into the chaotic battlefield.

Though treading on empty air, his footsteps produced a clear and resonant sound.

The man had a slender figure, a black robe fluttering in the wind, a straight bridge of the nose, and thin, rosy lips. His features were striking, and his long, raven-black hair fell casually over his shoulders, adding a touch of unrestrained and effortless grace.

His pace was light, every step carrying a unique rhythm.

He paused before the "Black Tomb" faction and bowed gracefully to the assembled group, looking every bit the polished aristocrat.

With sincere earnestness, he addressed the Grand Druid:

"My Lord Grand Druid, I believe Grand Duke Roland speaks a great deal of sense.

It would be best not to violate the restrictions set by the Five-Nation Joint Council."

The Grand Druid smiled with undisguised contempt:

"You, an 'Oathbreaker', are you suddenly concerned about violating restrictions?"

Oathbreaker!

Cohen’s gaze deepened as a name surfaced in his mind—

Garcia Lance, the Oathbreaker, a Paladin who worshipped the [Oath of Defection]!

Yes, the transcendent class of this delicate, handsome man before him was the same as that passed down through the Cohen family for generations: he was also a Paladin.

However, unlike those orthodox believers of the [Oath of Devotion], the [Oath of the Ancients], or the [Oath of Vengeance], this man worshipped the [Oath of Defection]!

To be precise, the [Oath of Defection] was the choice of those Paladins who had turned their backs on other sacred oaths or refused to accept orthodox Paladin lineages.

Garcia had once been an orthodox Paladin of the Church of Light, but he had fallen and chosen to forsake his sacred vows.

Such traitors had always been a thorn in the side of a certain woman on the field who abhorred evil as she abhorred mortal sin.

Celine Saint-Mera possessed none of the poise expected of a Saint. Upon seeing Garcia appear, she mocked him mercilessly:

"Garcia, I never expected you to show your face here!

Don't you understand? Your betrayal was nothing more than a farce, and the protagonist of that farce was a shameless clown.

No matter how much you pretend to be a polished aristocrat, you can never conceal the sickening greed and selfishness rooted deep within your bones!

You traitor, you have been nailed forever to the pillar of shame!"

Garcia did not grow angry. Instead, he spoke:

"My beautiful Lady Song Saint, I have only one question for you."

He paused, his voice seeming to pierce through the long river of history:

"Back then, I fought for glory and justice, bathing in blood upon the battlefield, fearless of life and death.

Yet why, after her death, did the soul of my beloved wife have to plunge into the abyss of Hell?"

—Garcia came from an illustrious aristocratic family and had been groomed since childhood as a Paladin of the Church of Light, repeatedly performing meritorious deeds in several holy wars. Yet when he returned home laden with glory, he discovered that his beloved wife had committed suicide, and her remains had been casually discarded and buried by the local bishop under the pretext of upholding dogma.

(Dogma of the Church of Light: Followers of Light are strictly forbidden from committing suicide; otherwise, their souls cannot ascend to the Divine Kingdom after death.)

Celine’s lips parted slightly, and she said coldly:

"Perhaps it was because she knew you would eventually fall that she suffered this consequence!"

Although they belonged to opposing factions, Cohen still felt an urge to retort mentally.

This big idiot is so utterly cliché—a classic case of working backward from the result to justify the cause. If I were Garcia, I’d slap you twice across the face first.

Garcia showed no anger; perhaps his heart was already too deadened by grief to feel. He said indifferently to the Grand Druid:

"You cannot keep me here. We of the 'Black Tomb' concede defeat for today.

To continue fighting would merely add a few more corpses from my subordinates, a situation I imagine you would rather avoid."

With that, he exchanged a glance with the Lich King Nax.

It was obvious today that they had been set up by the "Pale Wings", and the identity of the "Phantom Corpse" had likely been exposed long ago.

Only two Saints had appeared so far; who knew how many more might arrive shortly?

Moreover, the bulk of the Northwest Headquarters' forces were gathered right here. Even if the two of them had nothing to fear, they could not afford to let all these subordinates die here.

They had to retreat immediately!

Auras suddenly erupted from the two figures as they prepared to pull back the forces of the "Black Tomb".

Suddenly, a thread so fine it was virtually invisible to the naked eye, nearly blending into the air, whipped through the void.

The thread flew straight toward the two corpse demons standing beside Mammon, Lord of Minauros, the third layer of the Abyss.

Looking closely, the crowd realized it was actually a glittering, razor-sharp fishing line!

The speed of this fishing line appeared deceptively slow, yet it was so bizarrely swift that both Saints were caught completely off guard and utterly failed to intercept it.

They could only watch helplessly as it hooked two legendary-grade corpse demons with brutal precision. With a gentle tug, the demons were hauled down like a pair of dead fish, crashing heavily to the ground in critical condition.

Garcia instantly materialized beside the corpse demons, reaching out to grab the fishing line, but grasped only empty air.

"Who goes there!"

Garcia demanded in a cold, sharp voice.

Soon, a flattering voice reached everyone's ears:

"Your Excellency Privy Councilor truly possesses peerless fishing skills. With a single cast, you've reeled in two legendary-grade big fish. This subordinate is filled with boundless admiration!"

"It's alright. Mostly it's just that these two legends are utterly useless, their legendary domains barely forced together using sheer corpse qi.

If not for the giant tree of the 'Black Tomb' shielding them, they would never have reached the legendary tier.

They're at the absolute bottom of the legendary barrel, barely stronger than ordinary tier-nines."

This conversation, conducted as if no one else was present, caused the expressions of the "Black Tomb" members to shift violently.

Following the voice, the crowd looked toward the nearby Emerald Lake, where an old man and a middle-aged man, both dressed as anglers, were discussing the two legendary-grade corpse demons with keen interest.

Upon seeing the newcomers, Garcia’s delicate face betrayed an undisguised look of shock. He said in a deep voice:

"Your Excellency Privy Councilor!

Has Your Excellency come to drag me back?

Although I broke my vows, over the years—aside from those regional bishops who showed disrespect to my wife’s remains—I have never targeted anyone from the Church of Light.

I had hoped to preserve a shred of goodwill with the Church of Light!"

The Church of Light!

Seeing the newcomers, Garcia felt a jolt of alarm.

He never imagined that the Church of Light would actually collude with the "Pale Wings"!

How could these stubborn, arrogant, and conservative zealots cooperate with a bunch of cunning merchants?

He was very familiar with both men before him.

The older one was the Grand Inquisitor of the Church of Light, Clement Bright-Radiance, who had already been a Saint back when Garcia was a temple guard.

And the man beside Clement was Ferno Augustine, the Cardinal of the Western Empire and a newly minted Saint of the Church of Light over the past century.

Another two Saints had manifested. Even with Garcia's pride, he could not help but feel a heavy pressure bearing down on him.

Clement Bright-Radiance smiled softly:

"Your personal matters are the responsibility of the Tribunal. I am not here to target you today.

To be honest, I never expected the 'Black Tomb' to send you. It seems your Tomb Master truly places great importance on the [Wings of Gold]—could it be that you've glimpsed the opportunity to attain godhood from it!"

Naturally, Garcia would not take the bait. He said in a grave tone:

"Then does Your Excellency Privy Councilor have any special reprimand for me today?"

Clement Bright-Radiance said playfully:

"Well, I actually do have a favor to ask. Be so good as to return His Holiness the Pope's Holy Cross!"

The Holy Cross of the Pope of the Church of Light?

As soon as these words were spoken, not only were the members of the "Black Tomb" struck dumb with astonishment, but even the people from the "Pale Wings" exchanged bewildered glances.

The Holy Cross of the Pope of the Church of Light had actually been lost, and it was in the hands of the "Black Tomb"!

This was truly headline-making news.

Garcia’s gaze darkened slightly:

"Your Excellency Privy Councilor jests, where on earth would we have any Holy Cross!"

"Yet someone says it is right with you!"

As he spoke, Clement slowly shifted his gaze toward Cohen, who was mingling within the crowd, a smile of unmistakable mischief playing across his face—

Kid, you dared to command a Saint to fight your battles for you. Without some genuine skill, let's see how you're going to clean this up!