The jagged half-sword struck heavily against the trunk of a thick chestnut tree, and wood chips scattered along the blade's edge.
The rays of the setting sun slanted through the straight trees, creating golden lines dancing in the gaps of the shadows.
Horn mechanically hacked at the small tree in front of him with his half-sword, the longsword biting into the wood, and all he could hear was the crackling sound of shattering wood fibers.
Behind him, the monastery still stood, and the Holy Image of Miseria hung its head, unwilling to look at Horn's back.
Horn saw a shadow approaching from behind on the ground.
"How's Kosse?" Horn asked without lifting his head.
Jia Li stopped in her tracks. "He's okay. After taking the calming potion, he's much more stable, but he still can't say a word, and the two letters we gave him remain unopened."
"Are there any parents among the valley dwellers whose children were deceived by the Green-clothed Flute Player?"
