Black Hearted Mage

Chapter 338: Shock from the Puppy

"Brother, get up! If you don't get up soon, something terrible will happen!"

The heavy oak door of the attic slammed loudly, sending dust flying from the doorframe. Emily's clear voice was filled with undisguised eagerness, tinged with a hint of excitement. Caesars jolted awake, bleary-eyed, throwing back the covers and rushing to the door.

"Squeak-"

With the sound of the wooden door opening, Fatty's plump, dark red figure swooped into the attic like a gust of wind. Emily was wearing a formal gown, a rare sight today. The hem of her dress was embroidered with delicate gold thread, and her usually casually tied-up blonde hair was now neatly tied up.

"Emily, what happened?"

Kaesus rubbed his eyes, his voice still hoarse from the morning. He noticed his sister clutching a softly shimmering scroll in her hand. It was a document made of fine warcraft leather, with the royal golden emblem embossed on the edge. The blue ribbon shone with the unique luster of silk in the morning light.

"Brother, you have become a marquis!"

Emily's eyes lit up surprisingly. She carefully handed the scroll over. "At dawn, a messenger from the Roland Empire arrived, saying it was an imperial decree issued by His Majesty himself!"

As Caesars took the scroll, his fingertips felt the delicate leather lines. He quickly unfolded the edict, his eyes scanning the gilded text like lightning. When he saw the words "all taxes will be exempted for twenty years," his pupils constricted slightly, and his fingers gripping the scroll unconsciously tightened a little.

"No more taxes..." Caesars muttered to himself, his brows unconsciously relaxed. He looked out the window. The morning light was just shining brightly on the wheat fields outside the castle, a brilliant golden spectacle. He knew better than anyone what twenty years of tax exemption meant—the gold mine was practically his own!

The southern part of the Roland Empire welcomed another scorching summer, a humid heatwave enveloping the entire territory. The backyard of Rose Castle, shaded by a tall stone wall, seemed exceptionally cool. Caesars stood beneath a makeshift awning, directing servants to carry enormous, chilling blocks of ice. Each of these crystal-clear blocks weighed two hundred pounds, gleaming brilliantly in the sunlight.

"The gold mine has the most workers, but the ice production is limited. We can only supply ten blocks of ice per day." Caesar wiped the sweat from his forehead and instructed the butler Sean standing beside him, "Remember to give priority to distributing the ice to the miners' houses. It's best to deliver them there in the evening so that they can get a good night's sleep during the hottest nights."

As he spoke, he pulled out blocks of ice, each shimmering with white mist, from his storage ring. The ice was as smooth as a mirror, its edges and corners sharp as if they had been meticulously polished. Butler Sean quickly opened the storage ring and carefully stored the precious cooling items inside.

"The fire in the kitchen burns all day, and the temperature is the highest. We need five ice cubes every day." Caesars turned to Cecilia, the head maid standing on the other side, and continued to distribute. "The guards' booths must also be guaranteed a daily supply of three ice cubes. As for the living room, put one in when there are guests, and save it when no one is there. The head maid can distribute the extra ice cubes as she pleases!"

Cecilia looked at the mountain of ice beneath the awning, a flicker of surprise in her pale blue eyes. She reached out and lightly touched the surface, feeling the biting chill from her fingertips, and couldn't help but retract her hand. "Kaisas," she finally couldn't help but ask, "where did all this ice come from? The ice sold in Huofeng City is stored in the winter, so the edges are always bumpy. But these..."

She didn't finish her words, but her point was clear. These ice blocks were so perfect that they didn't seem to be a product of nature, but rather they were carefully shaped by some mysterious force.

The corners of Caesar's mouth rose slightly, revealing a mysterious smile: "It was just made last night." His eyes swept across everyone present, lingering for a moment on Cecilia's hesitant expression, but he did not explain much.

The head maid tactfully shut up and nodded slightly to indicate she understood. She put the ice cubes into her storage ring and led the maid towards the kitchen.

"What about us?"

Among the three old guys living in the backyard, the old priest in a linen robe asked.

"You'll get one piece of ice a day from the head maid. And I have one more thing to remind you: don't sing hymns at night. The Church of Saint Laurent will eventually be destroyed. It's a deformed product. A group of greedy people who only want to get something for nothing, while constantly praising the Holy Light, reach into the pockets of ordinary people!"

Caesar's bold words left the three old men from the former Saint Laurent Church stunned, but they couldn't find a reason to refute them. His resounding words resonated like a thunderclap in the ears of the three old men. Their wrinkled faces froze in an instant, their cloudy eyes trembling slightly, but they could only open and close their dry lips in vain.

The Bitterwater Farm, the pride of the Church of Saint Laurent, was indeed vast, with golden waves of wheat stretching to the horizon, but the three elders knew very well that the fertile land was barely enough to feed nearly 100,000 believers, let alone the shiny armor and sharp swords of 5,000 paladins, and the jewel-encrusted gold goblets and velvet curtains of the cardinals.

"Those are all donations made voluntarily by believers with a pious heart!"

The old paladin Wrathion's voice suddenly rose, his fingers, like dry branches, clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white from the strain. His cheeks, covered in age spots, flushed unnaturally, like an old cat whose tail had been stepped on.

"Voluntary donation?"

Caesar sneered, the magic badge hanging on his chest reflecting a cold light as he moved. "It's more accurate to say it's robbery. You white-robed priests wander the streets holding silver-plated staffs, stopping a vegetable vendor and saying she looks disrespectful and blaming you for not buying indulgences." He deliberately imitated the priests' pretentious chanting. "And then what? The shadow of the stake hangs over the heads of the common people until copper coins clink into your pockets!"

Wrathion's Adam's apple rolled violently, but Caesars had already turned and looked up at the sky. "I'll tell you another secret." His slender fingers stroked the magical weapon at his waist. "The fire in Holy Light City... was set by me."

A few years ago, the events in Shenghui City caused a huge stir; the lair of the church's top brass was raided. Depero looked at Caesars in shock, his mouth open, but he stopped talking.

Depero's skinny fingers traced the incomplete holy emblem on his chest, and his cracked lips trembled for a long time, finally turning into a long sigh: "My Lord Marquis, please... please reveal the truth about the church." The patriarch, who had served for hundreds of years, was now hunched over like a candle in the wind.

Kaisas pulled out a crystal shimmering with starlight. Its iridescent halo cast an eerie shadow in the shadows. His fingertips gently traced the ripples on the crystal's surface. "This is the final scene of the last Pope of the Holy Mountain Church. Only one percent of the image has been circulated."

A blinding blue light suddenly erupted from inside the crystal, making the frightened faces of the three elders look like evil spirits.

"You idiot! Wait until they're done looking at it and bring back the crystal!"

Kaisas suddenly called out to the corner, and the dark red puppy immediately jumped out and grabbed the dried meat thrown by its owner. The guy tilted his head, staring at the crystal with his small eyes, and let out a threatening growl from his throat.

As Depero activated the image crystal, a brilliant light suddenly erupted, unfolding a vast curtain of light before the group. The scene unfolding within was awe-inspiring—the grandeur of the Holy Mountain Church unfolded in full view. A towering white stone mountain soared into the clouds, gleaming with a holy light in the sunlight. Atop its summit, the golden temple stood majestically, its glazed tiles reflecting a dazzling brilliance. Thousands of heavily armored knights stood solemnly in the square, clad in silver armor, bearing massive shields and lances. The cold metal gleamed with a sharp edge in the chill wind. White-robed priests formed a neat formation, the gems atop their staffs gleaming with divine energy. Red-robed priests gripped their staffs inlaid with holy crystals, their knuckles white with exertion. All eyes were fixed on the end of the stone steps, as if awaiting the final judgment.

At that moment, a lone figure slowly emerged onto the stone steps. His long, silver hair cascaded down to his waist, fluttering wildly in the fierce wind. Every step he took left a trail of frozen frost on the snow-white stone steps. This seemingly young man ignored the thousands of troops waiting in formation in the square, calmly advancing toward the temple. As he reached the last step, the world suddenly changed color—the once clear sky was instantly swallowed by leaden gray clouds. A biting cold wind, accompanied by a blizzard, howled in the snow, and the entire holy mountain was instantly transformed into a sleet hell.

The ensuing scene was horrific beyond description. The silver-haired man merely raised his right hand, and the twelve paladins charging forward were frozen, armor and all, into ice sculptures. Then, under the invisible pressure, they exploded into a cloud of ice crystals. The priests' hastily erected holy shields ripped apart like thin paper, and the red-robed priests' prized holy light spells were swept away by the raging ice storm before they could even cast their precious spells. In just three minutes, the entire square was transformed into a savage battlefield, with severed limbs eternally frozen in the crystalline ice, and ruby-like beads of blood glaring against the snow.

As the silver-haired man walked across the corpse-strewn square and into the temple, the supposedly unbreakable Gate of Truth crumbled before him. The most elite Guardian Knights launched a suicidal charge, only to collapse to their knees ten steps from him. A chilling sound of freezing emanated from within their ornate armor. The aged Pope slumped in his throne, his staff, encrusted with the remains of a saint, shattered beneath his icy gaze.

The Pope's body was pierced by countless icy arrows. As the frost-covered hand gripped the Pope's throat, the entire temple began to tremble. As the man, seated on the Pope's throne of power, stepped on the Pope, the stained glass windows, a symbol of millennia of faith, shattered one after another. With a crisp sound, the Pope's body crumbled beneath the man's feet like a fragile ice crystal.

As the mysterious looter departed, the rumbling of a landslide echoed behind him. The sacred mountain began to crumble from within, its golden dome collapsing into the abyss, and a massive cross tumbled from its summit. The murals recording sacred history, the shrines housing holy relics, the tomes passed down through the millennia, and the entire glory of the Church, sank forever into darkness amidst the blizzard.

Three elderly figures, along with their follower, Olaise, huddled in a corner, their wrinkled faces twisted with fear, their fingers like dry branches trembling uncontrollably. The mysterious man's words still echoed in their ears—he compared the Holy Mountain Church to a parasite that fed on the flesh of the people. These blasphemous words were strikingly similar to Caesar's words.

Depero's vein-riddled hand tightly grasped the blue-glowing crystal, his cloudy eyes gleaming with greed. Just as he was plotting how to conceal the treasure, a chilling growl suddenly erupted from his feet. The seemingly bloated puppy bared its sharp white fangs, its crimson pupils like two drops of congealed blood, emitting an eerie crimson glow in the shadow of the castle.

"This fat dog has quite a temper. Why don't you let me test its strength!"

Wrathion ripped open the sleeves of his linen robe, revealing an arm covered in magic patterns. The puppy, upon hearing this, suddenly raised its front paws. With a resounding thud, spiderweb-like cracks appeared on the hard cobblestone floor. But it ignored the provocateur and instead stalked over to Depero, its bloody mouth slowly opening, its dagger-like teeth dripping with corrosive saliva.

A blinding holy light suddenly erupted from Wrathion's body, instantly turning the puppy's fur a burning crimson. A blood-red halo suddenly expanded from it, filling the air with a suffocating pressure. Depero's robe of holy light fluttered without a breeze, and the sacred energy accumulated within him for years suddenly burst forth like a flood.

"Stop! Wrathion!" Depero's warning cracked. He was horrified to find his palm shrivelling and withering at a visible rate, as if an invisible vampire was sucking his life force away. Wrathion—the always proud paladin—now had a trembling voice: "The Holy Light... it's beyond my control!"

Barov had already fallen to his knees. He looked at the holy light energy at his fingertips in despair: "Teacher... my holy light energy is escaping!"

Depero's bark-like face twitched violently as he used his last bit of strength to push the crystal forward. The moment the crystal touched the ground, he could clearly feel the puppy's gaze, a mocking gaze from a higher being looking down on an ant.

"Fat dog, here's the crystal for you. Stop it now!"

The puppy snorted with disdain, its scarlet eyes gleaming with disdain. It lowered its head and gently grasped the shimmering crystal. Its furry head tilted, glancing sideways at the three elderly men slumped on the ground. Its chubby body, like a moving ball, trembled with quick, small steps, and in a flash, it twisted into the castle's deep hallway, leaving behind only a series of clacking sounds.

"Damn it!" Depero shivered as he wiped away the cold sweat that was running down his wrinkles. The back of his robe was already soaked. "It hasn't even been half a minute, and it's already drained away one-fifth of my Holy Light energy!" He said as he touched his hot Holy Light mark. The once brilliant golden lines were now dim as if covered with a layer of dust.

Barov slumped on the grass, his priest's staff across his knees trembling. "Teacher, it... it plundered the holy light energy of the three of us at the same time!" The holy light energy on his body flickered, which was a typical symptom of magic overdraft.

Ole's hoarse voice came from under the shade of the tree: "Four." The taciturn servant took the initiative to speak. He was staring at the back of his hand where the veins were bulging. "My Dou Qi vortex has decreased by 30%."

In his rough palms, the fighting spirit kept trembling - this was a sign that the fighting spirit was out of control.