Chapter 544: Chapter 486: The Truth Cannot Be Killed! _2
“So how is he doing now?” Old Man asked with a mix of curiosity and worry.
“What else could have happened? I heard the bishop was furious and had Gadel bound to the stake and burnt alive that very night!” the coachman lowered his voice even further, speaking with a chill in his tone.
The group fell into a silence akin to death itself, only broken when a coachman named Dali spoke up in shock, “But… but why did he sneak out of the city?”
“What else would he do? Of course, he went to…” the coachman began, then suddenly clamped his mouth shut, not daring to continue.
Old Man and the others already understood; Gadel had taken such a great risk to leave the city for only one possible reason—to head for the Fire Oil City!
In fact, Gadel was not the first to do so. Recently, the region of Badass had seen several occurrences of smuggling.
Many brave and desperate people had fled to the Fire Oil City, the land of the Wizards.
Initially, Old Man could not comprehend why anyone would want to go to a place controlled by the demonic minions, but recently he had heard many unverifiable rumors.
Some said that Wizards were not as terrifying as the Church had propagated, they had no connection with demons, nor were they harbingers of the apocalypse.
Others claimed that after the Wizards took over the empire’s cities, they didn’t engage in wanton killing but rather distributed food, repaired homes, and constructed many workshops, with each laborer earning at least six silver coins—a triple of their current wage!
The always hungry Tracy, originally from the region of Badass, had not only enjoyed delicious white bread but also obtained his own house after sneaking into the Fire Oil City.
Old Man had even heard from passing merchants in taverns about more mysterious inventions, such as iron ships that sailed on the sea, flying vessels taller than buildings gliding through the sky, and immense trains that could carry thousands of people, even Magic that could make bread.
It was said that bread tasted like clouds and was incomparable to white bread.
Old Man couldn’t understand what eating clouds felt like, but it must be an exquisite delicacy.
However, he hadn’t heard such news lately, as the cardinal residing in the region of Badass had driven all the merchant caravans away and arrested many peddlers spreading the news, believing these people had been bewitched by demons.
“What do you think, is the Fire Oil City really as good as the rumors say?” a coachman named Dali suddenly asked, clearly tempted himself.
This question was quickly met with scoffs. “Do you believe that? Didn’t the bishop say? Those are lies by the devil to tempt us into hell. Those fools who went to the Fire Oil City are probably dead already…”
“If there is such a place, it must be the kingdom of the Lord, right?” another coachman said dreamily.
Old Man nodded in agreement, recalling how the Bible states the devil often uses lies as temptations to deceive them into surrendering their souls.
Even as he thought this, the incredible, dreamlike visions of the Fire Oil City still echoed in Old Man’s mind; after all, it was too wonderful.
“Wait… what is that? Look up at the sky, quick!”
An exclamation suddenly rang out beside Old Man, pulling him from his daydream, and he hurriedly looked up, spotting what seemed to be a huge eagle descending towards the city.
As it got closer, Old Man realized it wasn’t an eagle, but a massive, silver ‘steel beast.’
It was incredibly large and beautifully shaped, captivating anyone who laid eyes on it.
“This must be one of the Wizards’ war machines…” a coachman cried out in terror, not recognizing what it was but having heard from the Priest about them.
The Wizards had brought many powerful war machines from the abyss, one of which could fly high in the sky and drop hellfire upon the ground.
This strange flame could not be extinguished even by water, and those tainted by it would have their flesh burned to ashes, their souls dragged into hell.
Fortunately, at that moment, streaks of light imbued with Divine Arts suddenly shot out from within the city. Old Mann instantly realized it must be the work of the Archbishop!
A glimmer of hope rose in everyone’s heart. However, the aircraft soaring through the sky was unbelievably agile, constantly shifting its body and deftly avoiding every attack of the Divine Arts. It even seemed to taunt them by decreasing altitude once again, heading straight towards them.
“Run!” “Get out of the way, it’s coming this way!” The dozens of coachmen gathered here instantly became a mess. In a panic, they ran into the stables, which, while not very sturdy, could provide some shelter.
But Old Mann wasn’t so lucky. Tripped by a frantic comrade, he tumbled to the ground like a rolling gourd, and by the time he struggled to his feet, he saw the ‘silver beast’ diving low at an incredible speed.
Old Mann’s expression was one of near despair, especially when he saw the wide-open bomb bay doors. The bottom chamber opened with a rumble, releasing clusters of ‘bombs’ the size of human heads.
One of them was plummeting straight down towards them.
The massive aircraft roared over his head, the sound of its passing nearly bursting his eardrums. Old Mann no longer cared, because as he watched in horror, that ‘bomb’ exploded with a fierce burst!
With no time to dodge, Old Mann could only shut his eyes in desperation, curling up on the ground, waiting for death to come.
Yet after a full half minute, there was no pain whatsoever.
Old Mann opened his eyes in bewilderment. There was no explosion or flames, only countless pale pages falling and a not-so-large package…
Before he could grasp what had happened, hundreds of propaganda leaflets had already fallen inside the stable. Some landed outside and on the roof, while others scattered on the open ground and over his body.
Old Mann shakily picked up a delicate leaflet that covered him. His eyes were immediately drawn to the prominent black and white photo on the paper.
It was an interior view of Fire Oil City, with rows of neat, beautiful houses, wide and tidy streets, bustling alleys, smoke-billowing workshops, and a massive airship passing overhead…
Old Mann’s cultural knowledge was limited, and he couldn’t read many words, but anyone could understand pictures.
And such ‘pictures’ on the page weren’t just one; there were various scenes, including trains leaving platforms, transformation of poor neighborhoods, and workers in workshops toiling diligently, each one as vivid as life.
Even the empire’s best painters couldn’t produce such exquisite work—it was as if reality had been printed onto the page!
When the other coachmen realized that the strange ‘silver beast’ had not come to kill them, they too walked out from the stables, with the braver ones picking up the leaflets to look at them, uttering exclamations of amazement.
The boldest among them, Dali, approached the package that had been dropped along with the leaflets, opening it to reveal several square bricks of bread.
By appearance, they didn’t seem like white bread, certainly not dark bread, and felt very soft to the touch.
“Could this be magic bread?” Dali immediately thought of the rumors about the wizards.
Could it be that all those rumors about Fire Oil City were true.
“Dali, you’re the most literate among us. Can you tell us what it says here?” One coachman passed a leaflet to him.
Equally curious, Dali took it. The headline on the front page was written in deliberately bold letters, which he could naturally recognize. He read them out loud, with a trembling voice.
“The truth cannot be killed!”