Chapter 824

Chapter 60 The Sword Ghost (Mid)

Crackling—

The flames flickered gently in the night breeze.

The venison on the fire was slightly charred, with a glistening golden hue amidst the charcoal black, making it look very appetizing. I sprinkled the last bit of salt over it and continued to flip it for a moment. Then, I took a nearly burnt branch away from the fire, puffed my cheeks, and blew twice to clear off some of the ashes stuck on the meat.

The meat skewered on the branch, still hot, felt almost cold to me. I took one piece in my hand and thought for a moment before throwing it to the female swordsman sitting opposite me. Then, I held the branch with both hands, which still had three large pieces of meat, longer than my arm, and carefully peeled off the burnt skin. I opened my mouth wide and took a bite, eagerly.

Mmm—

As I chewed, I wrinkled my little face slightly: “Ugh, the salt is a bit too much.”

However, this expression of displeasure lasted only for a moment. Soon, her brows relaxed again. Although it was salty, it was still very fragrant!

“That night, they thought I wouldn’t survive, so they threw me into the fire.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the female swordsman take the venison. Perhaps she wasn’t very hungry or the meat was too hot, but she didn’t eat it immediately. On the contrary, she gently cradled the meat as if it were some precious treasure, handling it with great care.

This was almost an unconscious action. At this moment, it was clear that her mind wasn’t on eating at all. She spoke softly while feeling around the area covered by her cloak at her lower back. Eventually, she pulled out a piece of cloth with red floral patterns, looking somewhat rustic.

“They don’t know what my original life was like, nor do they know how many times similar things happened to me.”

While saying this, the female swordsman held her sword tightly, placed the cloth-wrapped bundle on her knees, and then slowly unfolded it layer by layer. What was inside? A baked cake? Or a pancake? It looked hard and dry.

There were two pieces of the cake, slightly larger than a palm, thick and solid. The top piece had been bitten halfway through, not fully eaten. When taken out, it was wrapped very tightly in the cloth, matching her serious demeanor when unwrapping it. For some reason, it gave the impression that the cake was being handled with great care.

It was somewhat amusing, a bit indescribable heartache, combined with her calm yet heavy words. If this scene had been seen by my former self, it would have stirred a little empathy—now, I can only occasionally try to empathize with the once passionate person within me, to counteract the indifference that no longer stirs any emotions.

The female swordsman placed the piece of venison on the cake she had bitten, wrapped the cloth again, and put it away at her lower back.

“It’s just that I was burned once. By enduring the pain, holding my breath, and staying conscious, there was a chance to survive. But those clergy members couldn’t imagine this; they were too careless.”

She said, slowly lifting up the sleeve of her right arm.

In the firelight, I saw that her entire right arm was covered with various hideous scars. Some were from cuts, others from old wounds left by beasts. The ugly scars were mostly covered by newer, even uglier burns, causing goosebumps. The marks extended from her forearm to her upper arm, creeping into areas hidden by clothing.

Only then did I notice that even her neck and right ear were covered with terrifying, faintly reddish scars. “I did something wrong, I know.”

She showed me those wounds quickly and then quickly pulled down her sleeve. Her hands seemed aimless afterward, instinctively retreating into her cloak, despite her efforts to appear casual.

Yes, I caught that fleeting sense of unease and restraint that seemed to emanate from her.

“Even if they really kill me, burn me, I have nothing to say. This world is like this, survival of the fittest. Since I’m in their way, then everyone should put their lives on the line.” When I was very young, I understood this. Therefore, I don’t hate them for killing me.”

The female swordsman paused, looking up at the moonlight.

“I only hate that they didn’t kill me enough, even sparing my sickly mother.” The cool night breeze felt piercing.

“Gurgle.”

I swallowed a bite of roasted deer meat, wiping the grease off my mouth with the back of my hand. The raw intent to kill in my eyes had long dissipated during the enjoyment of the delicious meal, overshadowed by the somewhat stammering words of the female swordsman.

“So, is this your reason for killing those knights?” I looked up at her and asked. “No.”

The female swordsman shook her head. “They were taking refugees to the Silent Fortress. I just wanted to save people.” “Save people?”

This word made me slightly more alert: “What’s going on over there at the Silent Fortress?” I had a general understanding.

From that document, from Reckt’s investigation, the things he told me about the Church, or rather, Angel, what they were doing after the war and disasters at the Silent Fortress, a place of tragedy, I had some idea.

However, I wasn’t clear how far things had progressed.

But now, it seemed that this female swordsman unexpectedly knew some details. I hadn’t expected her reason for acting to be this.

If it truly was so, then whatever was happening over there, even a “rebel” knight who had already left the Church could know about it. This meant the situation might be much worse than I had anticipated.

So, I stopped eating and listened intently.

“I don’t know.”

The answer I received was like this.

I was speechless, as if I had been choked by venison and couldn’t help but roll my eyes: “You don’t know?” “Yes.”

“So you said saving people?”

“Yes, I want to save people.”

“On what grounds do you claim to be saving people when you know nothing?” “Yes.”

“What do you mean by ‘yes’?” “Saving people.”

“?”

I looked at her, widening my eyes. “I want to save the children of those refugees.”

Perhaps sensing my strange gaze, the female swordsman lifted her head slightly, meeting my eyes. Then she brushed the wind-tangled hair behind her ear with her hands, awkwardly placing them on her lower abdomen. Her body sitting on the ground shifted uncomfortably; knees curled, hugging the sword closer.

In her slightly purpled pupils, I could see that she still felt uneasy, a mix of confusion and helplessness. It seemed like she was genuinely trying to answer me seriously, but my lack of understanding left her very puzzled. She seemed unsure how to continue the conversation.

The air grew quiet, and we stared at each other for a few seconds. Just as I was losing patience, suddenly, I saw her brow lift slightly, as if she finally understood something.

“Things over there are very dangerous.”

“Hmm?”

The conversation suddenly stalled and then resumed, leaving me a bit confused. I took a bite of venison and gave the female swordsman an inquiring look.

So she repeated herself: “Things over there are very dangerous.” Very dangerous?

“What’s dangerous?” I asked.

The female swordsman thought for a moment, then replied: “I don’t know.”

After a short while, seeing my displeased expression, she quickly added, “Instinct.”

Instinct?

Suddenly, I felt like I was being played with.