Chapter 134: Radiant Melancholy

"What is your name!"

Before dealing the killing blow, Grove could not help but ask for Linley's name. Regardless of anything else, the boy had excellent taste in masks, which made him worthy of being remembered.

"I won't tell you."

Linley refused coldly. The kings of the Alliance had not yet joined the war; if the werewolves learned his true identity, they would undoubtedly cause him trouble. Now that his mask and spells had changed, these werewolves certainly did not know who he was.

"Very well, how arrogant! If you don't die today, then remember my name." Grove laughed heartily. "I am Grove, the Werewolf Swordmaster. You can come find me for revenge later!"

Linley looked at the Werewolf Swordmaster. "You are tempting fate."

"I don't know what you are talking about." Grove raised his longsword. Linley’s strength was meager, but he had no intention of holding back.

"Kill them!"

Without further ado, Grove issued the command with his blood boiling. The werewolf army raised their blades and surged forward in a charge. Grove took the lead, his sword carving a crimson line through the air. His posture, speed, and timing were flawless—a strike worthy of a Werewolf Swordmaster at full power.

Linley stood at the very front. The moment the blade struck, he gripped the Song of the Azure Sky.

Heavy swords need no sharp edges; true mastery lies in simplicity. Linley swung his blade straight ahead. The strike seemed unremarkable, yet its power surpassed the most intricate sword techniques in the world.

"The Solitary Sword Technique!"

A flash of golden lightning suddenly tore through the canyon. The image of Linley, illuminated by that golden radiance, would remain frozen in legend for thousands of years to come.

"Yaahhhhh!"

The werewolves' shrill screams echoed throughout the canyon.

Half an hour later, the group emerged from the canyon, their faces still etched with expressions of disbelief and shock.

"Little Prince, was that move just now..."

"Say no more! I will teach you the Solitary Sword Technique in the future." Linley looked up at the sky, his eyes filled with a bright, melancholic sorrow. "This technique is too powerful; do not use it lightly."

"Of course, of course!" the mages nodded repeatedly. "This sword technique is far too dangerous!"

Just thinking of the scene they had witnessed made them tremble. Since time immemorial, it was likely no other sword move could compare to Linley's. This Solitary Sword Technique would surely work miracles on the battlefield!

The group continued their journey toward Sloca. By evening, they passed through a wetland and spotted a massive legion of paladins approaching from the west.

"Constantine!"

Brook’s eyes lit up. He recognized the flag raised high within the ranks—a yellow emblem on a blue field. It was the Lionheart Banner of the First Knight Order of Victoria, and Commander Constantine was with them.

"Brook."

Constantine had just retreated to this area from the west of Ashia with his paladins. After the two groups converged, he asked Brook, "Are you heading to Sloca as well?"

Brook nodded. Reinhardt, who had been following the group, rode up on his horse. "Uncle!"

Constantine turned back, frowning at him. "Reinhardt, why are you here?"

He had received a letter from his sister; this nephew of his was supposed to be accompanying the High King of the Night Elves to the Night Elf Kingdom. How could he appear in such a dangerous place?

"Did that High King bring you here?"

Constantine’s expression darkened. "How absurd. Does he even know who you are?"

Reinhardt was the prince of Ashia—the only prince. With many of Ashia's surviving troops fighting on the front lines, Reinhardt bore the weight of their faith. If something happened to him here, the Kingdom of Ashia would be completely extinguished.

"That High King is here, isn't he!"

Constantine’s angry gaze swept across the crowd, and Brook rushed to soothe him.

"Constantine, Reinhardt is with me. His Majesty the High King just helped us defeat the werewolves; you must not be rude to him."

But by then, Constantine had already spotted Linley, who was standing beside the carriage, chatting with a few strange creatures.

"This Holy Light..."

Constantine saw the Holy Light radiating from Linley—a type of Holy Light he had never seen before.

Brook replied, "That is the Holy Light of His Majesty the High King. It is flawless, and he is our prophet."

"Prophet of the Holy Light..." Constantine suppressed his inner shock, his tone laced with sarcasm. "I have never heard of the High King being a paladin. Besides, what right does he have to call himself a Prophet of the Holy Light?"

Brook was startled. What was going on? Did Constantine not sense how sublime the Holy Light on Linley was? That was impossible, of course. Constantine had already seen it, but unlike other paladins, he would not trust Linley simply because of the light.

"Constantine, the Holy Light does not discriminate. How can you be so disrespectful to the prophet..."

"I don't care who he is!" Constantine gave Brook no face at all. "What is this delicate fellow doing on the front lines? He had better not drag us down."

The two men's argument caught Linley's attention, and he looked over with curiosity.

"He seems to have an opinion of me."

This would not do. Reinhardt had just called him "Uncle," which meant this man was the brother of his mother-in-law. Perhaps the two families would even be in-laws in the future.

"Brother-in-law."

Linley sent the fruit creatures back into the carriage and walked over. "I am your brother-in-law!"

Constantine looked at him coldly. "What do you mean by 'brother-in-law'?"

"Eh?" Linley was slightly surprised. Could he have used the wrong term?

"Your sister is going to marry my brother, so aren't we brothers-in-law?" he continued.

*Clang!* Constantine drew his longsword. "Say that again if you dare! Who is your brother-in-law!"

His face turned ashen, and he looked as if he wanted to strike Linley down immediately.

"Little Prince." Lady White pulled Linley aside and said to Constantine, "Our Prince meant no harm. Please show some respect!"

Lady White and Constantine stood in opposition to one another.

"Little Highness, stop provoking him!"

The Royal Mages stepped forward and led Linley away from the two.

Linley was completely bewildered. "How did I provoke him?"

"This Knight Commander is very famous," the mages whispered. "He married a wife who looks exactly like his sister."

Linley understood immediately. As it turned out, this guy was a sister-complex enthusiast. It was no wonder his attitude was so poor; when Linley mentioned his sister, Constantine had transferred his fury toward Linwen onto Linley.

"...How do you even know about such things?" Linley asked, looking at the mages strangely.

"His wife’s face was something we personally... oh, no!"

The mages stopped. They mimicked Linley, looking up at the sky at a 45-degree angle, their eyes filled with a bright, melancholic sorrow.

"Little Highness... palace life is dull and dry. Gossiping occasionally helps soothe the soul and ease the mood."

However, Linley felt that they weren't just gossiping—they were stirring up trouble.