The damp secret passage was covered in moss, and droplets of condensation dripped onto people’s heads in the gaps between the stone bricks.
In the narrow path that only allowed two people to walk side by side, the torchlight flickered, and the jumbled footsteps scared away the big black rats passing by.
Four armed monks walked at the forefront, followed by Durdafer, and behind them, the witch was held by seven or eight night guards.
The witch stood almost 1.9 meters tall, her armpit supported awkwardly on the shoulder of a night guard barely 1.6 meters tall, creating a lopsided view reminiscent of Shangchun Mountain.
Next came three armored soldiers bringing up the rear.
"Walk faster, before they discover this secret passage, tsk, move, do I have to kneel down and beg you, you scoundrel!"
In the second row, Durdafer urgently urged the chainmail-clad armed monks ahead.
Crouched, the usually refined Durdafer only had time to grab a piece of black bread as rations.
The situation was urgent; what a useless Temple Knight Commander, didn’t even realize that the monastery gates were silently breached.
Now the monastery teemed with people, swords and hammers clashing, broken teeth mixed with blood flying around in confusion.
The continuous shouts of killing could be faintly heard even in the tunnel.
These were Secret Faction members upending the table.
Durdafer knew this well, but he also knew those Secret Faction members wouldn’t harm his life.
Only the radical faction fanatics among them and the Church’s arch-enemy, the Witch Secret Faction, would want him dead.
His life wouldn’t be lost, but he absolutely couldn’t let the Secret Faction rescue the imprisoned Witch Jia Li.
Other matters could be let go, but not his own life.
After all, Durdafer came from the choir and was considered one of "our people," so wouldn’t face severe punishment.
Now was the fiercest time between Abbot Juanuo of the Blago Monastery and Metropolitan Bishop Constans, and mistakes were not allowed.
Therefore, he had long prepared an escape route through the secret passage. As soon as the rebellious refugees attacked the monastery, he would immediately take the witch and escape through the tunnel.
As long as he could keep this witch and her secret safe within her abdomen, it would still be a great achievement.
Looking back at the unconscious Witch Jia Li, who had been rendered faint by Holy Water, Durdafer felt slightly reassured.
But just as he turned his head, a gale carrying moisture slammed into the tunnel, extinguishing the torches.
Spitting out rainwater, Durdafer hastily pulled up his hood: "By Miseria, what’s going on?"
The monk who opened the secret passage door pressed down his hood: "Priest sir, it’s raining heavily outside."
"Raining heavily again?" Durdafer was somewhat taken aback, but he gritted his teeth and continued shouting, "Don’t mind it, let’s head to the river path. Once successful, there’ll be a promotion and a 50 Solas reward for each!"
Single-file, they emerged from the tunnel, and Durdafer glanced at the sky.
Dark clouds completely covered the sky, and amidst the rolling thunder, the strong wind almost extinguished all the torches.
"Don’t light the torches just yet, let’s move in the dark. We can’t afford to be discovered." Wiping the rain from his face, Durdafer, with his gut sticking out, ran towards the river path, panting heavily.
The remaining people surrounded him, running in the same direction towards the river path.
Evidently, the Secret Faction hadn’t anticipated that Durdafer had another secret passage, as the path to the river was completely unobstructed.
The Honey River, turbulent under the downpour, revealed barely visible rocks made of rooftops and swirling tree roots between water and dark sludge.
Reaching the temporary dock usually used for mooring, Durdafer’s urgent steps suddenly halted.
The original dock had already been submerged; the poplar tree used as a marker was half-drenched in water, and the items beneath it had disappeared.
Durdafer rubbed his eyes, but he still saw nothing.
The boats he had previously hidden here, including five or six rafts and three ten-person longboats, were all nowhere to be found.
Lightning struck, and in the flash of light, Durdafer confirmed once again that this was indeed where he had hidden the boats, yet both the hiding place and the dock were empty.
"Where are the boats?"
"I’m asking you, where are the boats? Where are my boats?" Grabbing one of the bald monks by the collar, Durdafer yanked him forward and shouted into his ear.
"Weren’t you the one who arranged it? Where do you think they are?"
"I don’t know, maybe the rising water swept them away."
Furiously kicking the monk’s tailbone, Durdafer made his face turn ashen like his own.
"Damn Secret Faction, they anticipated my route via water and preemptively gathered all the nearby boats." Gritting his teeth, Durdafer pointed ahead.
"Let’s go, keep looking along the river path. I don’t believe they took every single boat."
Encircled by the monks and guards, buffeted by the wind, rain, and cries of battle, Durdafer couldn’t help but feel anxious.
Just this one step, just this one chance.
The seat of the Cathedral Priest, even the Bishop’s throne, awaited him.
At times , Durdafer always missed Jilo.
Though just a demon hunter, every time he managed arrangements flawlessly, rarely making mistakes.
He wouldn’t have sent him out investigating, but with such a delicate matter, Durdafer feared sending indiscreet people might cause trouble.
Along the river path, Durdafer lost his shoes, ripped his clothes, and knocked bruises into his fair arms.
They searched in circles and failed to find a single boat, yet cries of battle in the forest grew closer.
At his moment of despair, a night guard with sharp eyes suddenly shouted:
"Priest sir, look, there’s a boat over there."
Wiping the rain from his eyes with a handkerchief, Durdafer looked closely, and sure enough, there was a boat at the riverbank—a ten-person longboat no less.
Struggling against the storm, it advanced slowly. In front of the longboat, a simple raft overturned in the water, and a shadow staggered past through the underbrush.
"It’s Jilo’s boat!" a familiar monk shouted, "Jilo is back, too good to be true!"
Yes, braving the rain and wind, Jilo’s figure was indistinct, but Durdafer recognized the steel sword on his back for sure.
"Praise the power of the Lord, thank you for helping your faithful believers through difficulties." Drawing a "屮" on his forehead, the elated Durdafer thanked Miseria and called to the others.
"Hurry, let’s go over quickly."
Lifting his large priest’s robe, stepping into the mud, Durdafer stumbled toward the small boat.
Just then, the small boat docked ashore.
With unprecedented agility, Durdafer’s massive body quickly crossed the few steps to board the boat.
As he boarded the small boat, the previous swaying of the hull instantly steadied as if on solid ground.
Like a homing swallow, he wobbled his flab, stepping forward boldly, fiercely hugging the steel-sword carrying "Jilo."
Everyone thought they were done for, but unexpectedly, this demon hunter saved them.
Durdafer’s gratitude was beyond words, and he kissed "Jilo" hard on both cheeks.
This was the highest expression of affection and gratitude among the Falan people.
Taking a deep breath, Durdafer finally calmed down from his excitement, but suddenly he felt something was off.
The sensation from his arms and the person’s height in front of him seemed wrong.
He remembered Jilo wasn’t this short, and he was stronger than the person he was embracing.
Lightning illuminated everything.
Nose to nose, embracing each other, Durdafer and Horn stared at each other in shock.