Chapter 161 — Focus Fire on That One...

Still, bringing so many had been well worth it. Even if each man got off only one effective shot (two of them had merely watched others shoot), the soldiers had come to understand the traits and use of the new equipment through live combat, and Gao Yang had confirmed the pace of their training and education. Both the thermal ray guns and these new-model soldiers had received a valuable field test today.

The preacher Wright also followed the soldiers out of the woods. It was his first time seeing a Cecil combat corps in action, and those unbelievable, arcane weapons left the bear-sized pastor dumbstruck—though he soon pulled his attention away from the incomprehensible hardware.

Wright moved among the mercenary corpses strewn across the ground, crouching now and then to trace the symbol of the Church of the Luminous Star upon their foreheads, murmuring all the while:

"May the Holy Light purify your sinful soul."

"May the Holy Light purify your sinful soul."

"May the Holy Light purify your sinful and remarkably ugly soul."

"May the Holy Light purify your sinful, ugly, and frankly garlic-breathed soul."

This devout follower of the Dark Luminous cult went about like a proper army chaplain, using his faith to lay to rest the spirits of these brutal, bloody mercenaries, lest an environment so steeped in death give rise to dangerous wraiths or cursed plagues. Praying as he went, he lifted his hand from the head of a mercenary crossbowman who had died with his eyes wide open, then walked to the next mercenary—one in a gray tunic—and crouched down: "May the Holy Light purify your... hm? You..."

At Wright's puzzled sound, the "corpse" in the gray tunic moved in an instant. The mage who had feigned death snapped his eyes open, his gaze flooded with the chaotic currents of magical overload, and a dangerous arcane missile took shape before his chest, hurtling at Wright!

At such close range, there was no longer any chance to shield himself with divine arts—yet the preacher Wright still raised his right hand high, calling out the Holy Light's technique with unshakable conviction: "Discipline—Silence!"

A fist the size of a clay pot came crashing down from above, and the playing-dead mercenary mage went out cold, his face instantly drenched in blood.

Honestly, he'd nearly killed him for real.

Then the preacher rose to his feet and called to Gao Yang and Gao Luo: "My lord! There's a mage over here playing dead—gave me quite a fright!"

But Amber had seen the whole thing. The half-elf lady cried out from nearby: "Good heavens, you didn't beat him to death, did you?"

Wright looked utterly unruffled: "Rest easy, he's not dead. Silence doesn't kill."

"Tie up these two live ones," said Gao Yang—by now more or less inured to these oddballs and their bizarre ways—with only a sigh before assigning tasks as usual. "Philip, take half the men and sweep the woods, make sure no enemies remain. Wright, come with me—we've got wounded here."

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