Chapter 300: Chapter 298: The Healthy Bell Person
The sky was gray and drizzling with fine rain, perfectly matching the dying, ailing city of Oli. On the streets, bodies lay on the muddy road, left uncollected, their necks tied with bells, signifying they were patients who had escaped yesterday, and thus no one dared to retrieve them.
Jima and Jenna rode on two sickly horses, galloping down the street toward the military camp. Jenna dared not look at the roadside, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
Jima complained, “Really, as the main support, we are not taken seriously at all. Not to mention a cart, we don’t even have a good horse.”
Five or six dead patients lay together by the roadside, their bodies pierced with arrows and bolts, dark red bloodstains marking them.
Jenna spoke with a heavy tone, “Did there was a riot in the quarantine zone last night?”
“I heard so.”
Jenna fell silent, realizing there were as many dead as those she had saved, judging by the bodies seen on the street.
As the two women approached the pile of corpses, a thin, emaciated arm rose from the heap, and an injured little boy reached out to the two women, begging for help.
Jenna could no longer hold back; she pulled on the reins and dismounted.
“Jenna,” Jima called, “they still need you over there.”
“He needs me more.”
Jenna grasped the outstretched hand and pulled the boy from the pile of bodies. The little boy, whose neck bore a bell, had been crushed under a male adult.
“Your father?” Jenna asked.
The boy weakly nodded, his shoulder grazed by a sword.
Jenna placed her hand on his shoulder, her palm glowing white, healing the wound on his shoulder. Then she took a handful of herbs from her empty pocket, offering him bread, jerky, and water.
The boy expressed profound gratitude, eagerly drinking water and biting into the bread, mumbling, “Thank you, kind adult.”
After speaking, he looked at Jenna with his dirty face and with the bell around his neck, pleaded, “Can you save everyone?”
The riot from the previous night had left too many bodies in the muddy streets, along with numerous injured souls awaiting death.
Jenna hesitated, finding it hard to respond, and simply reached out her hand, her fingers flashing a burst of white light that burned through the cord holding the copper bell around his neck.
Jima dismounted and tugged at Jenna, fearful she might get herself into trouble again, saying, “Jenna, you can’t save every fish on the beach. Saving one is already quite good.”
Jenna climbed back onto her horse and after a moment said, “Jima, thanks for the comfort.”
“No, I’m sincere,” Jima replied. “For me, I wouldn’t want to save even one fish. Their lives are none of my concern. So I have always admired good people like you. Don’t feel troubled all the time because you can’t save everyone; just do your best.”
Upon seeing someone receiving help, another hand lifted from the street littered with corpses, crying out, “Help me! Save me!”
Jima immediately retorted, “If you keep saving, the army will rebel!”
Jenna turned her head forcibly, gazing ahead, her eyes misty, as she galloped through the muddy, filthy streets, her silver-white figure leaving that dreary neighborhood filled with death and despair behind.
The two women passed through the cremation area, where piles of wood still emitted dark smoke rising into the lead-gray sky.
The quarantine area was distant from the cremation site, as residents from the other parts of the city were not allowed the bodies of patients to pass through their zones.
The so-called quarantine area had once been a slum; soldiers built barricades around it to block all access, creating a makeshift prison. The structures inside were haphazardly built, and from outside, it looked like a pile of decaying black branches forming a rotten nest.
No healthy person dared to enter the quarantine zone; soldiers patrolled nearby, ready to kill any patients daring to escape. They would periodically deliver water and food.
Previously, the vicinity of the quarantine zone was so silent that the rustling of mice could be heard.
But now at the main entrance of the quarantine zone, a crossroad, it was bustling with people.
At the center of the crossroad stood three hundred-man teams of the Empire, arranged in formation, confronting the crowded civilians on the streets. Behind them was a large wooden gate leading to the quarantine area, heavily barricaded.
Jenna saw the street nearly filled with people from afar and couldn’t help but worry, saying, “With people gathering like this, who knows how many more will get infected.”
“Something’s odd,” Jima observed sharply. “If I’m not mistaken, it seems like some of the soldiers are protesting too?”
A centurion wearing a red-crowned helmet stood next to several soldiers, waiting at the edge of the crowd. Upon seeing the two women, the centurion eagerly approached, saying:
“By Sigmar, the Holy Maiden, you have finally arrived.”
“What is happening?”
“Not sure if it’s good or bad, but in any case, please talk to the general. He is in the formation.”
With that, the centurion turned and shouted, “The Holy Maiden has arrived! Everyone, make way!”
“Things are getting stranger,” Jima remarked. “Why is the general on the front lines? Have all the Empire’s soldiers died?”
“Loyalty,” Jenna felt uneasy. “If the general doesn’t show up, the soldiers might rebel.”
Under the centurion’s call, the protesting civilians blocking the road heard of the renowned Jenna and swiftly cleared a path.
The two women rode past the dense crowd.
The civilians turned to look; they all appeared very healthy, glowing with color, full of energy, and smiling. They seemed utterly out of place in this gray, sickly city.
Jenna found it hard to believe, and felt somewhat horrified.
“Holy Maiden! Holy Maiden! Do you remember me?” A healthy person squeezed out of the crowd, the bell around his neck ringing excitedly as he shouted at Jenna, “You saved me! You know I was sick, and now look at me, completely healed!”
“Exactly!” a soldier who had broken from the ranks shouted. “You should persuade those fanatical Sigmar sycophants to stop delaying the treatment of patients; this city needs saving!”
“Holy Maiden, please help us.”
The crowd surged uncontrollably.
Jima brandished a “branch axe” from her horse, shouting to shove the crowd back, “What are you shouting about? Block the road again, and I’ll kill you all.”
Wearing a bird-beak mask made the healthy people think of unpleasant things, causing them to back away, their bells ringing in unison.
The two women smoothly passed through the crowd and the Imperial formation, Jenna noted that the soldiers’ gazes were hazy; they were not as resolute as before.
After crossing the formation and reaching the center of the crossroad, they found a fountain there surrounded by high-ranking individuals.
Before reaching the center of the road, Jenna heard furious cursing:
“Do you intend to betray Sigmar and the Emperor? Those who petition should be tied to the pyre and burned; Sigmar demands it; they are filled with unclean power.”
A witch hunter wearing a tall pointed hat raged there.
The armored Imperial general coolly replied, “I only see patients escaping from the quarantine zone coming back healthy and glowing, while Sigmar has done nothing.”
“Blasphemy! You are betraying Sigmar!”
“I believe in the White Wolf, Ulrich!”
Jenna rode across the cobblestone road, two figures ceasing their quarrel.
The Imperial general, the witch hunter, the knights of the Radiant Sun within the inner ring, the local bishop of the Sigmar Church, and a bespectacled man with a copper bell clearly tied around his neck stood together.
Jenna dismounted and asked, “What is going on?”
“A group of healed patients, along with a few deranged believers,” the Imperial general said wearily, pointing at the bespectacled man, “He is a renowned local scholar and also the spokesman for the patients after their healing.”
The bespectacled man turned his head, the bell around his neck ringing. He too had a radiant complexion, and upon seeing Jenna, he extended his hand, saying:
“Holy Maiden of the Temple, everyone calls you the Healing Angel; it is truly an honor to meet you.”
Jenna stared at the bell around his neck, recalling the bell that could summon Naguo yesterday. Coupled with the unpleasant aura emanating from this person, Jenna hesitantly reached out her hand and shook his hand:
“Hello, was it the pestilent doctor who healed you?”
The bespectacled man appeared ecstatic:
“You are willing to shake my hand; your reputation is indeed well-deserved! People like us, who do not believe, were stricken by the disease and had to wear bells, banished from our hometown. When seen, we are pelted with stones and driven away. Sigmar’s followers even blame us for our lack of piety, claiming that’s why we fell ill.”
The witch hunter, boiling with rage, gritted his teeth, drawing his short sword and pointing it at the bespectacled man, shouting:
“Those of you who are impious and unclean deserve to suffer the disease. You should be reflecting during your wanderings to gain Sigmar’s forgiveness, yet you betray Him and seek refuge in evil sorcery! Burn them! Burn them!”
As tensions escalated, Jenna couldn’t help but shout, “Stop! I ask, you answer.”
“Sorry, I forgot to answer you,” the bespectacled man calmed himself, adopting a preachy tone, “Yes, it was the pestilent doctor who healed us. In just one night, the Black Death was cured—”
“What evil sorcery!” the witch hunter interrupted. “Holy Maiden from the Temple, please open the field of truth. I want to expose this heretic’s plot.”
Jenna looked at the Imperial general, who nodded, saying, “We would like you to discern whether he is lying.”
With the axe in her hand, Jima whistled, saying, “So you’re here to be a lie detector.”
Unfortunately, with her bird-beak mask, her words were unclear to others.
Even with her mask covering her face, she emitted an undeniable charm.
The Imperial general asked, “Is she a doctor?”
Jima shook her head: “I’m just here to watch.”
“Then why are you wearing a doctor’s mask?”
“Like wearing a swimsuit to swim,” Jima said, “Doesn’t that make sense?”
Jenna unfolded the field of truth, a soft blue light enveloping everyone.
Jenna asked, “Are the people outside healed by the pestilent doctor?”
“Yes, all of us including me,” the bespectacled man waved his hands excitedly. “She has special medicine that easily cured us; in just one night, the Black Death left my body.”
The blue field of truth did not change color.
Jenna and Jima, wearing the bird-beak mask, exchanged glances. Outside, thousands of healthy people were crowded together. To heal so many, indicated that the pestilent doctor had effective treatment methods and ample resources.
Jenna couldn’t help but quicken her tone, asking:
“Does she want to heal everyone?”
“Of course! However, the church’s sycophants don’t agree,” the bespectacled man said. “She intends to enter the city to heal everyone, but hearing that you plan to eradicate her, she asked who would volunteer to share the gospel. Therefore, we have come together.”
“Absolutely not.” The witch hunter shouted. “You are all followers of Naguo, and Naguo is an evil god, therefore, you are all heretics who deserve to be burned! The weak general actually allowed them to come in! Shame!”
Jenna immediately became alert. From the books she’d read and her impressions, followers of Naguo were all terrible villains, each trying every means to spread plague to win Naguo’s favor.
She asked sternly, “Are you a follower of Naguo?”
“Impossible,” the bespectacled man replied. “We’re ordinary people, not believers of the dark god.”
The field of truth did not change color.
“Liar!” the witch hunter shouted: “What about the pestilent doctor? Everyone says he believes in Naguo.”
“He merely learned some knowledge from the Naguo cult to use poison to counter poison in order to cure diseases,” the bespectacled man argued excitedly. “Yet you Sigmar Church folks have branded him a heretic and have been persecuting him everywhere.”
“Nonsense,” the witch hunter rebuked. “The church says he is a heretic, thus he is a heretic.”
Jenna hesitated. She could understand why the witch hunter was so furious. A doctor wanted by the Sigmar Church could actually cure the Black Death. In comparison, the Sigmar Church would appear utterly incompetent, resulting in a severe blow to their authority.
But what was piety and authority compared to human life?
The bespectacled man said, “Holy Maiden, you are a good person. We do not resent you for not being able to cure the Black Death. We see your efforts, but now everyone is waiting for treatment; human life is at stake. Don’t you agree?”
Jenna nodded.
The witch hunter’s voice softened, “Doesn’t the Temple treasure its relationship with the Sigmar Church?”
Jenna was well aware of the local power of the Sigmar Church. If not appeased, it could easily lead to chaos over a medical treatment.
At that moment, the Imperial general stated:
“I am loyal to the Emperor. The Emperor ordered me to stop the plague from spreading and to protect the citizens of the Empire. To halt the Black Death has forced my soldiers to kill many innocent people. Now that it can be cured, even if it is the Blood God coming, I would accept it. Holy Maiden, theoretically, you should also be loyal to the Emperor.”
The local bishop of Sigmar did not speak, closing his eyes, indicating a sense of compromise.
Only the witch hunter was exceptionally enraged, jumping with anger, cursing: “Heretic! This is impure! The church here has been polluted!”
Everyone awaited Jenna’s decision, as they needed to respect the choice of a platinum-ranked individual.
Jenna nearly agreed with the bespectacled man. Human life was paramount.
However, she did not make a decision immediately, but instead looked at Jima, who was watching. She asked, “Jima.”
“Hmm?”
“What do you think?” Jenna asked. “You have investigated ahead of time and gathered much intelligence, right?”
“As a demon,” Jima said, “I suggest aligning with this witch hunter; anyway, let’s avoid Naguo’s power if we can.”
Jenna proposed, “We can meet the pestilent doctor in person.”
The bespectacled man said, “But he said the church must withdraw the bounty against him.”
“No way,” the witch hunter asserted. “That’s yielding to evil!”
Everyone instantly grew dissatisfied with this fervently foolish witch hunter.
The Imperial general turned his head away, coldly snorting, “Foolish believer.”
At that moment, a loud angry shout echoed from outside: “The witch hunter is burning people again!”
“Our representative is still inside!”
“Go save the patients!”
A commotion ensued outside.
The Imperial general no longer ordered the soldiers to hold their ground.
The Imperial soldiers had already lost their fighting spirit. They were fed up with the actions of the Sigmar Church and let the water flow; the crowd surged toward the gates of the quarantine area.
The witch hunter cursed, “You instigator of heretics!”
With that, he pierced the bespectacled man’s throat with a sword, enraging numerous civilians, who surged forward, including soldiers, and quickly overwhelmed the witch hunter.
A riot commenced.
Jenna spread her arms, an invisible barrier centering on her pushing through the crowd. She saw the bespectacled man lying on the ground; after his death, the glow of health on his face disappeared, turning pale, covered in boils, with maggots crawling out.
She gasped, “Follower of Naguo!”
With that, she looked at the Imperial general and said, “This is a trap; general, quickly order the soldiers.”
“And what of that?” The Imperial general replied wearily. “As long as everyone survives, what does it matter which god it is?”
