Chapter 59

"Have you heard? Knight Balen's hand has healed!"

"Have you heard? The knight who injured his hand three years ago and could no longer draw a bow, his hand has been cured!"

"Is it said that the Temple of the War God healed him?"

"It seems it was the Bishop who healed him..."

"Oh, you're really out of the loop! — I heard it was a little guy who healed him, and even the Bishop had to follow his orders, doing whatever he said..."

The news of Knight Balen's recovery from his old injury spread through Hartland City like the wind. Those who had been injured themselves, or whose relatives had been injured, and those whose treatments had not been very effective—whether they were warriors or not—were all moved.

Even Viscount Joachim, the city lord, summoned Knight Balen once to inquire in detail about his treatment process.

Three days later, the bald Bishop wrote to ask if Knight Roman's hand could be treated.

The answer was no.

Without a doubt.

"He won't treat him? He actually won't treat him!"

Knight Roman roared in his room.

His confinement in the penitence room was just a formality; after a couple of days, when gifts were delivered, the High Priestess of the Spring Goddess released him: in a place without light or sound, where even the person delivering food didn't speak, a knight below level 10 would go mad after half a month.

Even so, he was not allowed to leave the temple, not even the rear hall, and could only stay in a small room to reflect on his actions. If it weren't for his mother's frequent letters, he would have gone mad long ago.

"I will kill him—I will definitely kill him! Yes, I'll write a letter, I'll write a letter right now, and have my mother send someone to kill him!"

This mother and son were truly in sync. The middle-aged woman, Knight Roman's mother, was also raging in the city lord's residence. This time, she didn't even maintain her usual composure, pacing back and forth in the small reception room, smashing the decorations to the ground:

"Commoners are just commoners! I've been generous enough; if he heals Roman, I won't hold it against him, but this lowly fellow dares not to treat him! I will kill him! I will definitely kill him!"

"But it wasn't intentional..." Viscount Joachim sighed. In front of him lay a stack of letters from Greta to the War God's Bishop, with dense handwriting and detailed diagrams. Apart from the diagrams that made one's head spin, the letters were full of sincerity and practical content.

How many tendons are in the palm, how much finer they are compared to the wrist tendons, and how precise the instruments need to be to avoid making things worse. The letter described everything clearly, both in writing and in drawings.

The bald Bishop, perhaps with the intention of helping Greta avoid trouble, forwarded the letter to the city lord without holding back a single page. Even if Viscount Joachim didn't fully understand, he could tell from the lines:

The person really couldn't do it, not out of spite or deliberately standing by.

The mistress, or rather, the former mistress, was still making a fuss. Viscount Joachim, annoyed, propped his forehead up:

"What will you use to kill him? — He never leaves the mage tower!"

The middle-aged woman was taken aback. No matter how unreasonable she was, she knew the mage tower was not to be trifled with: even if she managed her son's knight fief and had a few level 3 or 4 warriors and could mobilize over a hundred peasant soldiers, this force was a joke in front of the mage tower.

"I—I don't believe he will never come out!"

"No action is allowed!"

Viscount Joachim slapped the table. After shouting, he quickly calmed down and tried to persuade his mistress:

"That boy is a healer! A healer! The Bishop was helpless with Knight Balen's injury, but he could heal it with one touch! Do you know how many people are counting on him to heal them? Do you know how many people, if they get injured in the future, would hope for someone like him?

—If you have someone kill him and it's exposed, I can't protect you!"

"But—"

"No buts! No buts at all! For Roman's injury, we can find other healers, the Archbishop, the High Priest! No matter what, you are not allowed to take action!"

The middle-aged woman cried bitterly and left in a huff. As soon as she got into the carriage, she wiped away her tears and gritted her teeth at the butler outside:

"Investigate! Investigate that commoner, I don't believe we can't find a way to strike!"

With the mistress's order, the butler didn't dare to be negligent and immediately hired people to investigate. However, no matter how they investigated, they couldn't find a way to strike:

Greta was alone, his father had passed away long ago, and his mother had disappeared many years ago. The only people he could be considered familiar with in the city were his father's old comrades-in-arms; but to attack the city guard to get to Greta would be madness!

"Madam... this..."

The butler bent lower and lower. Crack, crack, he could almost hear his bones creaking. Oh, my old back... I need to go to the temple and pray. Even if I can't afford the healing spell, I can still get a bit of holy light during the service, which will make me feel better for a few days!

The middle-aged woman's face grew increasingly dark. She gently fanned herself, opening and closing the feather fan. The red nail polish sank deeply into the feathers, as if trying to strangle an enemy. With a snap, the fan broke, and the woman suddenly said:

"That commoner is a healer?"

"Yes."

"An Enlightened One of the Nature God?"

"This... he says so himself... but it must be true! Both the city guard and the temple guards have heard it!"

"Then why has he never attended a service?"

The butler was momentarily speechless. The middle-aged woman suddenly stood up, pacing back and forth in the room, her tone becoming increasingly urgent:

"That's right! That boy either stays in the mage tower or hangs around with people from the War God's Temple. For so many days, he has never attended a service for the Nature God! He never speaks of 'the Nature God' like those priests do, he never says such things!

His status as an Enlightened One must be fake!"

"But, the Nature God... doesn't have a temple..."

"No temple doesn't mean no congregation! The servants of the Nature God walk the streets; they might be hard to find in the upper city, but not in the slums!

If that doesn't work, just find a hill outside the city, and if there's a ring of stones, you'll definitely find someone from the congregation!

—That commoner, relying on his healing magic, first connected with the War God's Temple and then curried favor with the city guard, but he has never sought out the followers of the Nature God. His status as an Enlightened One is fake, and he is guilty!"

Crack, crack, several sharp sounds. The fan bones shattered one by one, and a large portion of the feathers were torn off, filling the room with green and gold. The woman stomped on the floor, her tone excited, her eyes shining:

"Find the Nature God's congregation! Pass the information to them! — No church can tolerate a fake Enlightened One; it's blasphemy! We pass the information to them, and the Nature God's congregation will definitely take care of that boy!"