Their eyes fell on her simultaneously. Colin's expression shifted, his finger tightening on the trigger. “What do you mean?”
Isolde ignored his hostility and bent down to pick up the holy lantern.
The handle was freezing to the touch. The light on the holy crest spiraled around her fingers, as if testing her aura.
The disguise inside her body trembled in response, and Meng Yinyin's basic mage mark surfaced. A soft white light clung to her palm, blending with the holy nature of the unicorn's last wishes.
The holy lantern remained lit, showing no signs of rejection.
Seeing this, Herwin's gaze darkened slightly, and the killing intent that had been shrouding Isolde finally receded a fraction.
At the very least, this proved she was not an evil mage.
Isolde held up the lantern, shaking off the snow.
“A patrol just died near the monastery, and there are remnants of Black Tower spells outside. At a time like this, what do the guards at the gates want to see most?”
Colin sneered. “See what? The killer turning themselves in to beg for forgiveness?”
Isolde glanced at him. “Oh? It seems you're not entirely stupid.”
“You—!” The veins on Colin's temples throbbed, and he instantly loaded his crossbow. “I should have shot a bolt through your throat long ago.”
“Enough, Colin,” Herwin said, pressing a hand down on him with an unquestionable warning in his eyes.
He turned back to Isolde, his gaze burning. “Northerners don't like beating around the bush. Speak plainly.”
“The monastery definitely doesn't know about the Black Tower yet,” Isolde got straight to the point. “Since they've laid down a path for us, we might as well use it. I can disguise myself as a monk and bring in a sufficiently valuable captive...”
Colin was the first to react, snapping his head up.
“No way. Who's to say you won't sell us out to the Holy Court the moment you get inside!”
Isolde met his gaze calmly, even taking half a step forward to expose herself directly to his crossbow.
“If I really wanted to harm you, I wouldn't have bothered drawing the patrol away just now.”
“All I had to do was stand still and yell, ‘There are witch hunters here.’ You would already be fighting them by now.”
Colin gritted his teeth, his knuckles turning white around his crossbow. “You could just as easily be doing this because you want to use us.”
“Of course that's possible,” Isolde nodded frankly. “But I didn't say all of you had to go in.”
Herwin gestured in a low voice. “Go on.”
“I'll put on a monk's robe, take the holy lantern, and escort someone inside.” Isolde pointed toward the depths of the monastery. “The rest of you will lie in ambush near the corpse-transport path to coordinate from both sides. If we're lucky, you might just find the person you're looking for.”
The older witch hunter frowned. “How can you guarantee you won't be exposed once you're inside?”
Isolde raised the holy lantern in her hand.
“I just need to act like a terrified, low-level servant who barely managed to escape back here.”
“Once people deem you insignificant, they won't bother investigating you from head to toe.”
Colin's expression shifted slightly. He had likely realized something, and his brow furrowed even tighter.
Herwin asked, “Why are you helping us?”
“Because our goals are the same—to save someone,” Isolde said. “Whether it's the same person remains to be seen, but our interests don't conflict. Once inside, we go our separate ways, and each of us will have to fend for ourselves.”
“Easy for you to say,” Colin said, his voice raspy. “What if you ditch us?”
Isolde swept her cold gaze over him. “You can always choose to keep waiting out here.”
Colin stiffened, pursing his lips tightly.
“You've been circling outside for three days, haven't you?” Isolde added, delivering a quiet blow. “If you had any other way, you wouldn't be standing here wasting your breath on a stranger of unknown origins.”
After a moment of silence, Colin suddenly slung his crossbow over his back and stepped forward.
“I'll go.”
The witch hunters gasped in surprise.
“Let me be the captive,” Colin said, staring intently at Isolde. “As long as I can get through the gates, I'll find Alvin myself.”
“No,” Herwin said, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Colin whipped his head around. “Captain!”
“You are too reckless.”
“That's my brother!”
The words seemed to be torn straight from his chest.
Colin's eyes were bloodshot. He stared at Herwin, seemingly unable to suppress the terror that had been building up over the past few days.
“You said he might still be alive, that we should wait for an opportunity tonight. But every single minute we wait, he gets closer to death! If I don't go in, am I supposed to just keep standing here listening to those damn bells? I can't do it!”
Herwin stepped forward, grabbed his collar, and slammed him hard against a tree.
“Precisely because he is your brother, you cannot go.”
“The moment you see even a shadow that resembles him, you will completely lose control. When that happens, not only will you fail to save him, but you will drag the entire team down with you!”
Colin opened his mouth, his breathing heavy, but he couldn't find any words to say.
Isolde stood to the side, watching quietly like an outsider.
Speaking even a single word right now would be like throwing a spark into a powder keg, and she had no desire to get caught in the blast.
Herwin took a deep breath and turned around. “I'll go.”
The older witch hunter gasped, “Herwin!”
Herwin raised his hand, silencing everyone.
“If the Holy Court captures an ordinary witch hunter, they might not open the gates immediately. But if it's me, they'll want to interrogate me personally.”
Herwin's judgment was calm, but incredibly dangerous.
His willingness to enter the monastery himself was not just for the plan, but also to keep Colin in check.
If he let Colin go, Colin would likely die.
By going himself, Herwin could at least minimize the chances of things spiraling out of control.
Colin's eyes widened as he stared at Herwin, his voice cracking. “I don't agree.”
Herwin kept his back to him. “You don't have the right to object.”
“Captain!”
“This is an order.”
Colin froze in place as the wind whipped snow between them.
Isolde watched as Colin's fingers slowly loosened their grip on the crossbow trigger, only to tighten again.
He lowered his head, his throat bobbing several times before squeezing out a raspy, “Yes, sir.”
Herwin began unbuckling his outer cloak and weapons.
The witch hunters moved quickly.
They stripped the outer robes from several dead Holy Court monks, selecting the most intact one to hand to Isolde.
Isolde changed into the Holy Court monk's robe, tucking her grey cloak underneath, and used some snow to wipe away the stray mud stains on the cuffs.
She tied her hair even lower before finally picking up the holy lantern.
As the light fell upon her face, the features belonging to Yu Lingye appeared even more ordinary and easy to overlook.
The other witch hunters began disposing of the corpses.
The older witch hunter pulled out a vial of grey powder and scattered it over the footprints. When the wind blew, the tracks vanished completely.
Colin remained silent throughout, helping Herwin strip off all his gear with fierce, rapid movements.
Isolde walked over with the holy lantern, scanning Herwin from head to toe.
His weapons had been stripped, and his hands were bound behind his back with the witch hunters' specialized rope knots.
The knots looked authentic but featured a hidden release mechanism invisible to outsiders.
Yet, there was still a problem. “You look too normal.”
Isolde raised the lantern slightly. The light illuminated his cold, rugged face, making his scars look even sharper.
“You don't look like a prisoner who was just captured.”
Herwin understood instantly, and so did Colin.
The young witch hunter's expression grew complicated.
“Is there no other way?”
Isolde didn't speak. She simply looked at Herwin, leaving the decision to him.
Herwin cracked his neck and spat out a single word with force:
“Beat me.”
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