Chapter 59
Mios wasn’t entirely unprepared for gunpowder. For instance, during the earlier council between the Queen and the generals, they had deliberated on methods to counter fire attacks.
The royal palace was always known for its elegance, with all manner of flowers, plants, and trees planted throughout its grounds. The nobles, influenced by this aesthetic, filled their own estates with greenery. But if a fire were to break out, these beautiful gardens would quickly become fuel for the flames.
Was the solution to cut down all the trees in the city? That wasn’t practical.
One advisor suggested, “Your Majesty, it might be better to keep the Crown Princess in the royal palace. After all, this is the most heavily guarded place in the entire kingdom. No matter where you send the Crown Princess, there will inevitably be risks.”
But heavy defenses also meant it could turn into a trap with no escape.
Ultimately, the Queen chose to trust Miki’s words and have Tsukiyo follow Wakako. Wherever Wakako went, Tsukiyo would go. Because God would spare Wakako’s life to control Miki, staying with her would ensure safety.
For a continent that revered God, following divine will for protection seemed like the right choice. But for a monarch, placing all hope in another’s hands wasn’t just foolish—it was reckless.
It wasn’t that Ruijun didn’t trust Miki’s judgment. On the contrary, apart from her wife and daughter, the people she trusted most were Miki and the mercenaries. But no matter how gentle and kind she was, she was still the ruler of a kingdom.
No one liked the feeling of having their life and death controlled by others, especially the Queen, even if the other party wasn’t human, but a God, it was still the same.
Generally speaking, fire assaults weren’t a particularly effective tactic. While plants and trees burned easily, Mios’s terrain and winds weren’t conducive to large fires. Even if a fire did break out, it could be extinguished with some effort, and the worst that could happen would be the expense of rebuilding.
But the addition of gunpowder changed everything. With such a powerful weapon in hand, anything could happen in the chaos.
Therefore, the Queen had ordered the preparation of numerous cowhide water bags for storing water and bamboo tubes made by removing the nodes. This way, even the largest fires could be extinguished.
As was the case at the Kitagawa estate at this moment. The leading soldiers wielded bamboo pumps, spraying powerful jets of water onto the flames, temporarily suppressing the raging inferno. But this wasn’t something that could be resolved quickly. Thick smoke billowed, making people cough uncontrollably.
Even if they forced their way into the smoke, they would be like headless flies, not knowing where to go.
The second man with a firearm appeared outside two neighboring courtyards. He was the owner of the tracking dog and could sense its presence inside one of the courtyards, but he couldn’t tell which one housed the Saint.
Inside one of the courtyards, Rika and two others were gathered around the Saint. It was the first time they had faced such a situation. Despite their fear, they wanted to scale the walls to check on what was happening outside, even if it meant risking their lives, to ensure no harm came to the Saint.
But the Saint gently held their arms. “Don’t go,” she said. “Staying here is enough.”
There was a calm, reassuring power in her voice that made the three of them settle down, staying where they were. They gripped the hilts of their swords, ready to fight anyone who dared enter.
Moments later, they heard other noises in the courtyard. All three girls tensed. Rika, the most timid, pursed her lips, tears welling up in her eyes. “Are we going to die?”
Miki said softly, “No. Don’t you trust the Saint’s words?”
The three girls exchanged glances. Rika wiped her tears. “Yes, we’ll listen to you.”
They had no other choice anyway.
The sounds grew closer and closer. Rika recalled countless times being told to protect the Saint’s safety at all costs. But only when facing this situation did she realize it wasn’t that simple.
She was only sixteen. Compared to grand ideals of kingdom and duty, she wanted to live more.
The moment the door burst open, Rika and the other two girls screamed as they swung their swords forward, their arms trembling uncontrollably. After all, their opponent wielded a weapon capable of blowing a person apart in an instant—who wouldn’t be terrified?
The metal of the firearm gleamed under the faint light, and with such a powerful weapon in the enemy’s hands, their swords stood little chance of making contact. Yet, to their surprise, the tips of their blades pierced deeply into the enemy’s body.
They hadn’t expected their attack to succeed, their fear turning into astonishment. They quickly realized, due to their trembling hands, they had only struck the shoulder, not a fatal blow.
The faceless enemy clutched the still-unfired firearm, falling to the ground powerlessly.
Behind him stood a shadowy figure dressed in black, blending almost entirely with the night. It was difficult to make out who it was, except for the streak of fresh blood splattered across their face, a sharp line of red that stood out vividly.
Wakako slowly retracted her hand, which held a short blade. Unfamiliar, warm blood dripped from the tip of her nose, drop by drop, each one almost audible.
Rika and the others whispered faintly, their voices barely audible, “Lady Wakako…”
She didn’t have time to respond, her gaze fixated on Miki.
Outside, the fire raged, smoke and blood swirling in the air. But inside the room, the Saint sat on the edge of the bed, her white robes hanging gracefully, completely untouched by the chaos. Her pristine garments were as clean as ever, unsullied by the violence outside.
Good. At least she wasn’t stained
That last strike had drained more of Wakako’s strength than she had anticipated. Normally, this wouldn’t have been the case, but her injured left leg and the continued blood loss had weakened her. Even her breathing had become labored.
But it didn’t matter. She was a weapon that felt no pain. No matter what, he would stand until the very end…
“Lady Wakako!”
The voice sounded panicked, but why was it so faint?
Numbness spread from her fingertips throughout her body. Wakako’s consciousness gradually faded, and she, like the enemy who had just died, slowly, slowly collapsed, falling at the Saint’s feet.
Rika and the others cried and shook her body, but it was no use.
Wakako seemed to have drifted into a dream. She could only hear a familiar voice sighing softly, “You fool… Why did you rush in like that?”
“…” She didn’t know how to answer that question.
Protecting Miki felt ingrained in her, as if it was etched into her very bones. It wasn’t something she could control.
The voice continued, “The Saint has acute perception. If she chose to stay, it means she had a plan, a fallback. Why didn’t you think about that?”
Wakako had an answer to this question in her heart, though she wasn’t sure if it was right or wrong. “Maybe… maybe I was her fallback,” she said. “She knows I’m here. She knows I’ll rush in. That’s why she can take the risk. That’s her acute perception.”
The voice fell silent.
A hand gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
***
Wakako fell into a deep sleep. She didn’t know how long she slept, only that it was a very, very long time.
During that time, she occasionally sensed a strange, sweet scent near her lips. It was fragrant and enticing, but she recognized it as blood. Instinctively, she resisted, unwilling to drink it.
“Be good,” a voice coaxed. “Open your mouth.”
Blood mixed with the delicate scent of cherries dripped into Wakako’s mouth and flowed into her stomach.
Though still unconscious, she recalled a passage from a scripture she had memorized long ago, stating that drinking a bowl of water boiled with the Saint’s blood could heal even the most stubborn and incurable wounds.
However, for thousands of years, the Saint had been regarded as a supreme being, and coupled with their frail constitution, only the monarch was deemed worthy of such treatment. And as monarchs typically resided within the palace walls, they rarely faced any risk of injury, so this practice had long been forgotten.
But Wakako remembered. She had repeatedly recited that scripture about the Saint. At first, she couldn’t memorize it no matter how hard she tried, struggling to even recognize all the characters, often frustratedly tapping her head in annoyance.
Even Miki, who always pushed her to improve, told her to simply do her best and not force herself.
Yet, Wakako gritted her teeth and persevered. If one repetition wasn’t enough, she did ten. If ten weren’t enough, she did a hundred. When tired of reciting, she copied it down, and when tired of copying, she resumed reciting, until every character, every detail about Miki was deeply etched in her mind.
No one had asked her to do this. Not even those in the palace who boasted of being “learned scholars” could necessarily recite the entire scripture.
She simply adored Miki too much… to the point where she feared that if she didn’t give it her all, she wouldn’t be a worthy servant.
But even if she were worthy, she was still just a servant. How could she be qualified to drink water boiled with the Saint’s blood? This dream was becoming increasingly absurd.
She didn’t know how long she had been asleep, but eventually, Wakako struggled to open her eyes. She hadn’t felt this exhausted in a long time.
The pungent smell of medicine filled her nostrils. She was still in the Kitagawa estate.
The first person she saw was her junior sister, Lin Lin. She looked travel-worn, as if she had just rushed back. Her youthful face was marked with sorrow. “Senior Sister…”
Wakako wanted to comfort her, to say that she was fine, but her throat was incredibly hoarse and dry, unable to say a single syllable.
Liu Siruo leaned against the window, for some reason not turning to look at her.
Wakako sensed something was wrong. She sat up and gulped down the tea beside her, which helped her voice recover slightly. “What happened to me?”
No one answered.
Wakako’s gaze shifted to Lin Lin, hoping to read something in her expression, but all she saw were tears welling up in her junior sister’s eyes, barely being held back.
Finally, Liu Siruo turned around. “Let me explain,” she said. “Wakako, you’ve been poisoned.”
“Poisoned?”
“Your left leg was injured by the firearm blast. The poison entered through the wound…” Liu Siruo’s expression softened with pity. “The injury is severe, and there’s no cure.”
Wakako’s mind flashed back to the events of that night. The first man with a musket she encountered had desperately grabbed her wound before dying.
It was to poison her. They must have been targeting her specifically.
“What will happen?” Wakako was far calmer than they expected. “Will my left leg be crippled?”
Lin Lin’s tears finally fell. Though she was young, she was always strong, never complaining even when exhausted from training. But now, she couldn’t stop biting her lip as she said, “It’s not just your leg. You’re going to die.”
She clung tightly to Wakako’s left arm, pressing her forehead to her senior sister’s shoulder, her body shaking with sobs.
Liu Siruo turned away again, silently wiping her eyes.
Die, huh?
Such a distant word now felt within reach. Wakako thought about it carefully and realized she wasn’t all that afraid.
She calmly patted her junior sister’s back. “Alright, I’m not dead yet. Why are you crying?”
But Lin Lin only cried harder.
