The Season of Water was the coldest and dampest season of the year.
Although the midday sun had dispersed the cold fog shrouding Black Castle Town, the bluestone-paved square directly in front of the cathedral remained damp.
Led by an attendant, Victor stepped onto the newly erected high platform in front of the square.
The nobles of Black Castle Town, already seated, either turned a blind eye to Baron Wimbledon as he walked up, sneered with disdain, or glared at him angrily.
With a calm expression, Victor walked up to Count York and Bishop Pelor, performed a noble salute, and said aloud, "Victor Wimbleton greets Lord Count, and greets Lord Bishop."
The round Count York glared at him and let out a disdainful snort, obviously still harboring a grudge against Victor for extorting fifty purple gold coins from him.
Bishop Pelor beside him was amiable and friendly, nodding to indicate, "Baron Wimbledon, there is no need for such formalities. Please take your seat and witness the upcoming purification ritual."
Victor straightened up and glanced over without a trace. With the assistance of the x-3 chip, Bishop Pelor's image was imprinted in his mind.
Bishop Pelor had an ordinary face and figure, with prominent wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and forehead. At first glance, he looked like a weathered elderly farmer.
However, his gaze was peaceful, and he wore a pair of the cheapest cultivator's linen robes that were immaculate.
From time to time, a faint platinum radiance emanated from his body, carrying a natural aura of sacred and inviolable majesty.
Victor also noticed that Bishop Pelor had thick calluses between his fingers and palms, which should be the marks left by frequently gripping heavy weapons, while beneath his seemingly thin and withered forearms, muscles like steel bars were tightly coiled.
As the bishop of the western province of the Kingdom of Gambis, Pelor lived in luxury and held high authority, yet he was neither arrogant, extravagant, nor lax. How could the Radiant Church dominate the continent for thousands of years by mere luck… Victor could not help but inwardly sigh.
At this moment, a four-meter-tall copper pillar was erected in the center of the square, and the people of Black Castle Town began to gather toward the square.
Two iron rings were embedded in the upper end of the copper pillar, and two fine iron chains as thick as a child's arm hung down from the rings on both sides.
Over thousands of years, such execution pillars had ended the lives of countless wizards.
"I heard that the wizard caught this time is Will, the gardener in town?"
"Will usually looked honest and dutiful, going to the church to pray every morning and evening without interruption for several years. He was even personally praised by Lord Priest, who said Will was a devout believer. Who would have thought he is actually an evil wizard."
"Hmph, I knew he had problems long ago."
A man gleefully flaunted his brilliance to the discussing crowd. As his neighbors let out disdainful sneers, he said indignantly:
"Will is just the son of a groom. Instead of learning to drive horses and carriages, he became a gardener, and the flowers he tended were even better than those cultivated by someone like me from a family of three generations of gardeners.
The stewards of wealthy families secretly told me that the flowers he sent over were intensely fragrant when placed in vases, and the blossoms wouldn't wither for a month.
At first, I thought he had some secret method and secretly observed him for a long time, but I didn't find any secret at all… Tsk tsk, his flower-planting skills are not even as good as mine… Heh, I knew he had problems back then."
Seeing the crowd wearing expressions of sudden realization, the man became even more smug, unaware that their entire conversation had been overheard by Victor, who was more than twenty meters away.
Victor remained calm and used the x-3 chip to filter out useful information, growing more certain in his heart that the wizard who murdered the Little Baron must be someone else!
At this moment, a passage was parted in the crowd. Two Paladins clad in silver-white armor were seen dragging a limp person on the ground toward the copper pillar in the center of the square.
Victor gathered his focus, adjusted his visual range, and magnified the image in his eyes to a clearly visible level.
The man being half-dragged and half-pulled by the church guards was the wizard Will.
He wore a blood-stained short linen robe, his two legs twisted irregularly—obviously broken. His bruised face was completely devoid of color, his damp hair was a mess across his forehead, his pale lips trembled continuously, and his eyes were filled with fear and despair.
Victor noticed that this unlucky gardener had relaxed muscles and a collapsed will, and there were no marks left on his hands from frequently gripping weapons. He was completely just an ordinary person.
Gardener Will was dragged in front of the execution pillar, and the Paladins lowered the chains and fastened them to his wrists.
Perhaps knowing that his time was running out, gardener Will began to struggle.
"What are you doing?! Let me go! Let me go! I am not an evildoer!"
"Please, let me go! You have the wrong person!"
The two Paladins ignored him, each grabbing the other end of the chains and giving a hard tug to hoist gardener Will entirely into the air.
Shortly after, the burly Father Ivan, wearing a suit of chainmail and holding a platinum scepter, walked from the church passageway toward the high platform of the bishop and noble lords.
Seeing an acquaintance, gardener Will became even more agitated, pleading loudly to the priest: "Lord Ivan, please save me! I am a devout believer, I am not a devil! I beg you…"
"Shut up, you heretic!" Father Ivan bristled with rage, sternly rebuking the wizard with an air of righteousness, before respectfully handing the platinum scepter to Pelor.
This scepter was forged from rare mithril and adamantite into the shape of a weeping angel. The angel's expression was sorrowful with tears streaming from its eyes, and its body was bound to a pillar.
The lower end of the pillar formed the handle of the scepter, while the angel's upturned wings and suspended hands formed the top of the scepter.
Bishop Pelor took the weeping angel scepter and raised it high. His linen robe fluttered without any wind, and specks of radiance drifted out from the bishop's body, converging at the top of the scepter.
White runes were born from the void, revolving around the scepter, and with a roar, a platinum holy flame blossomed at the apex of the scepter.
Witnessing this miracle, various praises rang out among the crowd, and the nobles on the high platform also wore expressions of awe.
Bishop Pelor handed the scepter to Father Ivan with satisfaction.
Seeing the priest walk over holding the holy flame scepter aloft, the gardener knew he could no longer escape his fate. He closed his eyes in despair and began to murmur the prayer that was so familiar to him on ordinary days:
"Lord, I beg You to forgive my sins and guide my way…"
"Blasphemy!" a Paladin growled in a low voice, raising his sheathed longsword and swinging it upward.
With a soft thud, the longsword heavily struck the gardener's chin, sending blood mixed with a few teeth scattering across the square.
Amidst exclamations of alarm, the surrounding crowd seemed afraid of getting the wizard's blood on them and hurriedly dodged backward, causing a commotion.
Bishop Pelor's expression was ashen. Victor's heart stirred, and he seized the opportunity to say, "Lord Bishop, I heard that wizards are best at disguise. This gardener looked like a pathetic wretch, but who would have thought he is actually an evil wizard who killed three innocent people. It is truly unbelievable."
Bishop Pelor's expression lightened slightly. Pondering for a moment, he said, "Indeed, wizards excel at disguise and are hard for ordinary people to distinguish. Even we members of the clergy cannot see any abnormality without conducting a demon-identifying prayer. However, those three deceased victims have nothing to do with this wizard."
"Oh? Could there still be another wizard who hasn't been caught?" Victor stared intently at Bishop Pelor, frowning as if he were very uneasy.
Bishop Pelor glanced at the slightly restless nobles and explained, "That is not the case. Among the three deceased, one of them was an evildoer, and the other two were sacrifices for his evil ritual.
As for that wizard, he suffered a backlash from a demon during the ritual and died within it.
Therefore, everyone need not be nervous. Our church's clergy have already conducted a demon-identifying prayer and confirmed that there are no other wizards around Black Castle now."
Victor quickly glanced at Count York and noticed that he was lifting his roly-poly chin with disdain, as if despising the cowardice and timidity of the other nobles.
Clearly, Count York had long been aware of these circumstances.
Through this dead fat man's expression, Victor judged that what Bishop Pelor said was true.
"Ah!"
Amidst a shrill scream, gardener Will was ignited by the platinum holy flame. The flames grew from small to large, beginning to devour his body.
Just as the gardener struggled in agony, streaks of green radiance burst forth from within his body, simultaneously repairing his charred and withered flesh while attempting to expel the platinum holy flame.
The holy flame seemed capable of growing stronger by devouring this green radiance, burning even more fiercely instead.
"He truly is an evil wizard!"
"Burn him to death quickly!!"
"Lord! Please protect us." A chorus of panicked prayers, angry curses, and cheering rang out among the crowd.
The green radiance was squeezed upward by the platinum holy flame, finally gushing out from the top of the gardener's head. One green rune after another was born from the void, disintegrating one by one into green spots of light.
These spots of light fell within a ten-meter radius around the copper pillar, and blades of grass and vines grew out from the gaps in the bluestone slabs at a speed visible to the naked eye.
As more and more green spots of light fell, the hard bluestone slabs could no longer resist the exuberant force of life. Thick vines crushed the bluestone slabs and surged toward the copper pillar like claws and fangs.
"You will not succeed! You will not succeed!"
The gardener's tragic, hoarse howling revealed a heart-palpitating majesty and rage. Platinum holy flames burst forth from his eyes, burning his entire body into nothingness.
For a time, green grass carpeted the ground and flowers bloomed riotously; the square fell utterly silent.