“Eh?” A few knights, already in despair, were about to fire a signal cannon to call for reinforcements from their colleagues in nearby areas. No matter how large the forest was, they would have to split up to block the escape routes, but the importance of the mission made them dare not slack off in the slightest. Seeing this situation, they were both surprised and delighted, and all turned their eyes to the always-calm Chief. Only at this moment did a faint smile appear on Chief’s gloomy face, but the blood seeping from the corner of his mouth also proved that he was utterly exhausted, his strength completely spent.

“Sir!” The knight who had been waiting nearby quickly dismounted and tightly supported the staggering Middle-aged Knight.

“It’s nothing, I’m just a bit drained.” Waving his hand slightly, he tried to sit up straight. Several thunder steeds leapt forward, nimbly jumping over the small hill, heading straight for the spot where the dark figure had fallen. Meanwhile, Middle-aged Knight let out a gentle sigh, casually took a pouch from his chest, fished out a golden pill, and popped it into his mouth.

“Sir, you seem to have something on your mind?” Always following behind Middle-aged Knight and having said nothing until now, Stout Knight quietly asked.

“It’s nothing. What a pity—a genius, a genius thief has perished at our hands just like that. Who knows how many people will thank us for this; those guys living in the Westfan Palace will probably be even more delighted.” Shaking his head regretfully, his voice full of emotion and slightly hoarse, perhaps agitating his wounds, a trace of dark purple blood welled up at the corner of his mouth again. He had to take out another pill from the pouch and put it in his mouth.

Noticing Middle-aged Knight’s action, Stout Knight gently squeezed his horse’s belly, and the intelligent thunder steed silently stepped forward two paces, his concerned gaze falling on Middle-aged Knight’s face. “Sir, did you use Holy Origin Power?”

With a bitter smile and a slight nod, the wrinkles on Middle-aged Knight’s chiseled face seemed to deepen. “This fellow is the shrewdest thief I’ve ever seen. His superb skills go without saying, and his escape abilities are unmatched. But what’s even more impressive is his cunning—he actually managed to guess our identities and took countermeasures. If I hadn’t used Holy Origin Power along with the Cyathea Divinewood Arrows to cast the Thunderbolt Sky Net, I fear that once he escaped into this forest, we would have had to spend who knows how much more effort.”

“Sir, you even used the Cyathea Divinewood Arrows?” Startled, even Stout Knight was visibly shaken. Holy Origin Power combined with Cyathea Divinewood Arrows and the Thunderbolt Sky Net technique? Materials for Cyathea Divinewood Arrows are extremely rare, crafted by elven artisans, and personally blessed by Archbishop with considerable spiritual power. The divine wood, imbued with the blessing, gains a metallic hardness, able to pierce armor and gold. In recognition of Commander’s distinguished service, he was granted five arrows, none of which had been used in the past ten years. And now, Commander had used three at once on this obscure thief—wasn’t that a bit wasteful?

Seeing the regretful expression on his trusted subordinate’s face, Middle-aged Knight also felt a bit helpless. Clearly, he too thought it was a waste to use the Cyathea Arrows in the pursuit of a mere thief. But the words of Archbishop's Envoy still echoed in his ears, and he dared not disobey. Although he didn’t know the secret behind all this, the fact that the The Protectors, who had never left the sanctuary in decades at Archbishop’s side, personally joined him in hunting down this mysterious thief, showed just how important the matter was.

“What else could I do? That guy seemed to have some special magical protection. I was afraid ordinary arrows couldn’t penetrate his defensive spells, so I had no choice but to use them.” Middle-aged Knight sighed again, squeezed his horse’s belly, and the thunder steed leapt forward toward the front, where several knights had already dismounted to inspect the dark figure that had fallen from the sky.

Riding close behind Middle-aged Knight, Stout Knight lowered his voice and said, “What could possibly warrant sending us and the Protector to hunt down this man?”

His body stiffened. Middle-aged Knight turned back and gave his usually steady subordinate a faint glance, and uttered just six words: “Unknown, and not to be asked.”

That light glance from Commander was like a blow to the soul, almost knocking Stout Knight off his horse. The bright, sunny sky seemed to turn icy cold in an instant, cold sweat seeping down his back. He immediately fell silent and dared not speak again. It was rare for Commander to look at him like this in all these years; he knew he had overstepped.

The spot where the dark figure had fallen happened to be a shallow, slightly sunken pit near the edge of the forest. Dead branches and fallen leaves had padded the pit, making it slightly raised. At this moment, the figure that had always been elusive in the knights’ eyes was lying on his back in the pit. His square face had turned a strange golden yellow, his dim eyes lifeless, lips slightly parted as if wanting to say something, but the potent poison of the Cyathea wood had claimed his life the instant he opened his mouth, leaving him unable even to close it.

Middle-aged Knight, upon approaching, merely glanced at the man, shook his head, and said nothing more.