Four Split Personalities

Like a finely tuned machine, the defensive line sharply contracted, and Motan’s support squad was ’unfortunately’ left outside the defensive system.

A team in a perilous situation, the Northern Expeditionary Army headquarters naturally wouldn’t abandon them to die, but both redeploying personnel on the fly and choosing the right moment to support them required time. At that moment, the person in charge of the outermost two defense lines of the second battalion, Wolens Carleni, happened to be reporting to the first battalion. Though his deputy promptly sent someone to report, by the time Wolens received the message and organized a rescue team, a full ten minutes had passed since Motan and his people were attacked!

Ten crucial minutes that determined life and death!

If Motan had really decided to fight and retreat while waiting for rescue, rather than forcefully break through and charge towards the main peak of the Holy Mountain, those ten minutes would have been enough for all of them to be wiped out twice over!

How exactly did the enemy manage to do it...

Motan, newly arrived at Holy Mountain Sumier, had been pondering this question.

The answer wasn’t particularly difficult to guess. By reverse inference, Motan quickly noticed something unusual.

On the surface, this accident seemed to be just a pile-up of many coincidences, but in fact, the simultaneous occurrence of these coincidences was very strange.

So...

The probing assault by the heretics was the key. Such situations had actually occurred several times before, but only this time, the elite scouts of the second battalion did not catch any whispers of it - a huge doubt.

Indeed, it was unthinkable for any member of the Northern Expeditionary Army to collude with the heretics, but if it was not collusion, just deliberately suppressing information that was already obtained, it was not that difficult to do.

Therefore, assuming that the Golden Crown Chief Priest Wolens, obviously harboring ill will, had obtained relevant information, it wouldn’t be hard to deduce the time of the heretics’ attack. Under these circumstances, he could very well meddle with the already randomly adjusted sortie plans in secret, ensuring that Motan left his station at that perilous time and then casually inspire his subordinates by inciting morale or carelessly mentioning something like "everyone seems a bit lax lately." Doing so would subtly increase the precision of the entire defense system over time.

In this way, the contraction of the defensive line, which would normally take a while, could have its duration drastically reduced. Moreover, since Motan and his people would surely be the first to be entangled by the heretics, by the time they fell back to their original outer defense line, the now-strengthened second battalion would naturally have already drawn back.

After Wolens had orchestrated these details, he only needed to manage his timing to leave for his report to the first battalion just a little earlier. This would legitimize a few more minutes of delay, and in those minutes, Motan and his party would be beyond salvation!

Even if the Church of the Dawn hadn’t been overstating things, under such circumstances, there wasn’t a commander who could miraculously hold out against twenty attackers of only average middle rank strength until the rescue arrived!

With just one morning in real time, Motan, having passively switched personalities twice, had... used his own strength to reverse the situation almost completely and became deeply aware of the terrifying poison in the plan.

Perhaps it was just an act on a whim by Bishop Wolens when he noticed through scouts that the heretics were preparing for a counter-attack soon, but it was still meticulously infuriating. No need to mention evidence; there wasn’t even the slightest sense of discrepancy. If Motan had really died in that accident, considering the circumstances at the time, not even an investigation would have been needed. It would have been passed off as an ’accident.’

"My heart is so tired..."

Compared to the indignation of the half-dragon Female Knight behind him, Motan at this moment only felt exhausted, looking listless in every way.

Is it uncomfortable?

Quite so. Although he, Yizou, and the other five all survived, the rest of their squad were all killed by the heretics’ ruthless attack. Those seven Holy Knights, who played a crucial role in the breakout, barely even left whole corpses behind. The final flashes of life from the other deceased also shocked Motan - despite having been through many major events, his psychological endurance, truth be told, was mediocre, and these days he often found himself thinking of those people, recalling one after another the figures that had trekked behind to cover his retreat.

After all, he was no longer the central, crucial commander of three months prior, whom countless people strained to protect. He was just an ordinary Priest, reputed to be quite skilled at command.

And the fallen were not merely out to protect him when they resolutely stepped forward.

Knights from the Church of the Dawn and Fertile Sect took on the most perilous tasks, vowing not to let their Priests and fellow Clergy fall before them. They kept their promise, and every Knight fell without a single other shedding blood.

Two Priests of the Justice Sect, not known for their Healing Divine Technique, silently drew out their warhammers after their charges fell, taking over the Knight’s duty to guard the flanks. With their frail bodies, they shouldered the brunt of the onslaught until the very end.

Priests from the Sun Sect analyzed the situation and unanimously concluded that only the [Red Sun Hexagram Formation] could buy enough time to retreat. Thus they sent forth their youngest, who cast a combined Divine Arts to stand before the frenzied Heretics, burning their last ounce of strength.

As Motan stands now, he lacks unwavering will and heart of stone, naturally feeling distressed.

Self-blame?

Perhaps a bit since he is well aware that he is the actual target, and the others are merely dragged into this because of him. Thus, whenever he recalls the moments his companions, who had not been acquainted with him for long, fell, he feels as if their deaths are on his hands.

Before departing, the Dawn Pope spelled it out clearly in the Luminous Dome. With the birth of a new God’s Chosen, the Church of the Dawn had grown significantly stronger. This ’talent’ that had risen from the disaster in Misha County was now the topic of fervent discussion within a small circle and was regarded by many who participated in that battle as one of the young generation’s leading figures. His rapid rise even overshadowed some reclusive Saint Heirs and Saintesses. This, in turn, within a few short months, elevated the Church of the Dawn’s fame, even impacting a large swath of Believers.

But this might not necessarily be good news...

The Pope’s expression at the time was profoundly grave.

"The Holy Church Union is not monolithic, and this has never been a secret..."

Bent in stature, Saint Ambro Asher sighed deeply with a bitter smile, "Where there are people, there will be conflict, and though the internal contradictions of the Holy Church Union are ’milder’ than many, it’s only relatively so. No Clergy is content with having too much influence, for many, status and influence are synonymous with spreading the Gospel. While some within the Union have no interest in this struggle, the Church of the Dawn, as one of the three major Sects, cannot avoid it. Indeed, we do not mind seeking a higher standing for our Sect through legitimate means."

The Pope paused a moment here, likely wanting Motan to digest what had been said.

The latter could only give a wry smile, for, as someone from the modern world, he naturally understood these matters.

Then...

"I am truly sorry, Black Vatican Priest, for sending you to Sumer has indeed involved some personal motives."

The elderly Lizardman Pope looked remorsefully at Motan, speaking in a low voice, "After the disappearance of Tifero, our Church of the Dawn, which hadn’t seen a God’s Chosen in hundreds of years, has been dormant for too long. We need to show our Believers some hope, and you and Wang Yu are part of that hope. Because of this, should Wang Yu return and remain unresponsive, even our worst competitors would hesitate to harbor malicious intentions. But now... I hope you understand my meaning, Black Vatican Priest. Please, in these days before returning to the City of Light, ensure you protect yourself..."

...

"I’m really not loving this."

Motan took a deep breath of the icy, thin air of Sumer, weakly supporting his forehead...

"Why must such a heavenly burden be mine to bear..."

Chapter 607: End