The bell tolled seven times.
On the day Shirley advanced to Gold Peak, the bell tower of the Temple of Holy Light inexplicably rang seven times.
No one had struck the bell.
Her holy light was so strong that it resonated with that ancient bell, which had lain silent for centuries.
At the first toll, the novice nuns copying the holy scriptures looked up.
At the second, all the pigeons in the square exploded from their nests, fluttering into a gray-white cloud.
Then the tolls fell one after another.
Everyone in the Temple poured out.
Believers craned their necks to look at the bell tower, knights ran over from the training grounds, and even the kitchen maids poked their heads out, ladle in hand.
No one knew what was happening with the bell. It hadn’t rung in centuries; no one had ever seen such a thing.
Inside the Testing Sanctum, the Four Elders stood in a circle around the magic testing crystal.
The light pillar inside the crystal was shooting upward, faster and faster, as if an invisible hand were pushing it from below.
Great Elder’s white beard fluttered faintly in the glow. The expressions of the other three Elders grew more and more intense.
“Gold Mid,” said Third Elder.
The pillar didn’t stop.
“Gold High.”
The pillar kept rising.
The Four Elders fell silent.
The pillar finally stabilized, halting at the peak level, motionless.
Gold Peak.
Great Elder spoke first, his voice a little hoarse. “The last person to do this was three hundred years ago.”
Third Elder stared at the crystal for a long time. “The First Saintess. How long did the Third Saintess take?”
“Forty days,” Great Elder said. He turned to look at Shirley. “She took forty days.”
Shirley stood in the center of the Testing Sanctum, still holding the hand seal pose. She didn’t fully understand what the Elders were saying, but words like “three hundred years ago” and “First Saintess” were clear enough.
She slowly lowered her hands, the palms still warm with residual holy light.
“Great Elder!” Her voice was a little tight. “Did I… did I pass?”
Great Elder looked at her.
Too many things churned in those aged eyes, but in the end, it turned into a long sigh.
He walked over and placed his hand on her head.
That hand was broad, warm, carrying the special warmth of an old man.
“You did it,” he said. “You are the Temple’s pride. The God of Holy Light has never bestowed such abundant favor upon a single person.”
Shirley’s face turned bright red. She lowered her head, her silver hair sliding down to hide the tips of her ears.
“I… I just practiced the way you taught me! And Brother Victor brings me warm milk every morning, so I can get up early!”
When she mentioned Brother Victor, her voice noticeably softened.
Second Elder let out a rare chuckle. “That Mortal Rank boy? He has more patience than I thought.”
Shirley immediately looked up. “He’s not Mortal Rank! Victor just hasn’t found his own path yet. He trains until very late. I often see him still on the training grounds when I go to the kitchen for water at midnight. He’ll get stronger soon!”
Second Elder didn’t argue, just shook his head with a smile.
Great Elder glanced at Shirley, then at her protective expression, and said nothing.
Three days later, the mission letter was delivered to her hands.
Border town.
Vampire.
Gold High.
First team—two Gold Initiate, four Silver Peak—all wiped out.
The only knight who escaped back to report staggered into the council hall covered in blood. His left arm was severed at the shoulder, and the flesh of the stump was gray-white.
He knelt on the ground, his lips moving for a long time before he forced out his last words.
“It… isn’t afraid of holy light…”
Then his head dropped.
Great Elder closed the bloodstained letter and looked at Shirley.
He spoke slower than usual, as if weighing every word in his heart.
“This mission is unlike any training you’ve done in the Temple. This is not a drill. This is real combat.”
“I know,” Shirley said, standing very straight. “The people killed by that vampire are also waiting for someone to give them a second chance. If I don’t go, they won’t even have a chance to wait.”
Great Elder looked at her. After a long pause, he said, “Go. Remember, a Saintess’s light is not only for fighting, but also for lighting the way for those lost in the darkness.”
Victor stood outside the council hall door.
When Shirley’s words “Let me go” came through the crack, his fingers clenched tightly.
He looked down at his hands.
For the past month, he had trained every day—swinging his sword two thousand times, running ten laps with a weight load, shield strikes. The calluses on his tiger’s mouth wore through and healed, wore through and healed.
Blood layered upon blood, already staining the wrap on the sword hilt dark brown. He still couldn’t meet the minimum knight standard, but he was a size stronger than a month ago.
He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
The Four Elders all turned to look at him.
Great Elder didn’t look surprised, as if he already knew Victor was standing outside.
“I’m going with her,” Victor said, his voice steadier than he expected. “I can carry a shield and stand in front of her.”
Great Elder looked at him.
It was a look Victor couldn’t understand—not contempt, not being moved, but something more complex.
After a long time, Great Elder said, “Do you know you’ll die in front of her?”
Victor froze.
“I’m not questioning your resolve,” Great Elder said. “I know you’re willing to take everything for her. But precisely because I know that, I cannot let you go.”
Victor wanted to say more, but Shirley walked over and took his hand. Her fingers were cold and trembling slightly, but she held tight.
“Brother Victor,” she looked up at him, her voice very soft. “Wait for me to come back, okay?”
Her clear eyes were full of sincerity, so sincere that he couldn’t say any refutation.
Victor looked at her. He slowly unclenched his fist and held her hand back.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll wait for you.”
Shirley mounted the horse.
She wore the Saintess’s battle light armor, her silver hair tied high in a ponytail. On the hilt of the short sword at her waist was carved a crooked holy light flower. She had carved it herself the year she first came to the Temple.
She looked back through the crowd seeing her off to find Victor.
From a dozen paces away, she mouthed a sentence.
“Wait for me.”
Then she spurred her horse and charged out of the square.
The sound of hooves mixed with the clanking armor of the Temple Knights, growing fainter and fainter. Her clothes fluttered in the wind, quickly swallowed by the morning fog at the edge of the square.
Victor stood there, watching until she completely disappeared, then slowly released his fist. He hadn’t noticed he was clenching so hard that his nails had dug four bloody marks into his palm.
Two guards nearby were cleaning up the flagpoles from the send-off.
The one on the left lowered his voice to his companion, “A Mortal Rank tagging along with the Saintess, how embarrassing. He even wanted to go on a mission with her, doesn’t know his own level. The Saintess would have to protect him instead.”
The other didn’t speak, just shook his head with a laugh.
Victor walked past them without stopping.
He reached the training ground as dusk was falling.
He pulled a blunt sword from the weapon rack and stood in front of a wooden post.
When he swung the first slash, his tiger’s mouth split open. Blood dripped down the hilt, but he didn’t stop.
Second slash.
Third slash.
He didn’t know how many times he swung. The wooden post was covered in notches. The edge of the blunt sword was curled.
He threw the sword to the ground, knelt in front of the post, and looked down at his trembling hands.
He had once believed that if he worked hard enough, he could catch up to her.
Now he knew.
Some gaps cannot be bridged by effort alone.
“Why… why are you so weak?”
His voice squeezed through gritted teeth.
The night wind swept across the training ground, lifting the fallen leaves.
“Die.”
No one saw his expression at that moment.
Neither did he see the darkness within his eyes, quietly, silently spreading.