Chapter 85: Death

Isolde explained, “Michelle and I are like fire and water now, yet she pretended to reconcile with me and insisted on coming to church with me. If I didn’t find her behavior suspicious, I would be too dumb.” A burly man beside Milton urged, “Quit chitchatting. Kill her, and we’ll be on our way.”

Isolde recognized the man. His name was Paul Beard, the deputy commander of the Garrison of Argentum. He wasn’t under Milton’s command, yet he was leaving with him. Isolde scanned the group; a few were from the Argentum Garrison, but only two were soldiers under Milton. Having been on the battlefield before, she recognized most warriors who had made names for themselves. Daisy and Paul looked similar; Isolde guessed they were father and daughter.

Milton stretched out a hand to stop Paul from charging forward. He stared at Isolde and asked, “Enlighten me. Why do you keep targeting me?”

Isolde said coldly, “Soldiers are supposed to be loyal, but you only care about power and profit. You embezzled funds and formed alliances for personal gain. Think about how you got your position. How many people have died for you? How many things have you taken credit for? Also, if you hadn’t ended up in this mess, I believe you and David would have started plotting against Doug, right?”

Milton gasped, wondering how Isolde knew his plan. He had committed the crime of deceiving the king by claiming all the credit as his own. After Milton and David rose in rank, Doug had been keeping an eye on them. Doug went south to investigate, eventually reaching Shadowmere. Doug had committed countless atrocities over the past two years. Therefore, Milton and David could only rest easy after killing Doug. However, they had been carrying out their plan in secret. Isolde’s knowledge meant Doug was also aware.

Milton broke out in a cold sweat. Fortunately, he had escaped prison. Otherwise, even if he revealed his accomplices’ names, it wouldn’t be a bargaining chip to escape the death sentence.

Milton’s eyes gleamed with hatred. He attacked Isolde. Hattie and Hazel immediately stepped forward, pushed Isolde aside, and kicked Milton in the chest, forcing him to retreat. Slightly surprised by the maidservants’ skill, he sneered, “As expected, you’re prepared.”

Isolde raised her whip and said coldly, “Hattie and Hazel, take care of the rest. Marshal Blackwell is a relative; I’ll entertain him personally.”

“Understood!” Hattie and Hazel replied before splitting up to fight the other henchmen and Daisy.

Isolde said nothing. She calmly took a few steps and attacked Milton with her whip. He responded with his sword, blocking her attacks without fail.

Both Isolde and Milton wanted to kill each other; neither held back, using only killing moves. The smell of blood and battle cries filled the ravine as they kicked up dust and leaves.

Isolde, well-prepared and familiar with Milton’s fighting style, handled his attacks calmly. Milton, however, worried about Isolde’s reinforcements and hurried to kill her. His attacks were chaotic due to impatience, putting him at a disadvantage.

After fighting for a while, his impatience subsided. He realized reinforcements would have already arrived if any were coming. He figured Isolde had most likely prepared reinforcements around the Church of Paemis, not here, since she hadn’t known they would come to the Church of Wealdir. He was shocked to see his men being forced to retreat under the maidservants’ attacks, wondering where Isolde had recruited such skilled experts. He knew his men would be defeated by the Goodwin sisters in less than 100 moves and wouldn’t escape if the maidservants joined Isolde. Therefore, Milton pretended to retreat, luring Isolde to chase him. She pursued him.

The thirst for blood loomed over the Church of Wealdir. Isolde’s whip and Milton’s swords clashed countless times, each with the urge to slash through their opponent. They moved nimbly; the others could only differentiate them by their figures and clothes.

Isolde and Milton were evenly matched. Milton felt anxious. He initially thought he would have the upper hand once he separated Isolde from her maidservants, since Isolde was strong but lacked combat experience. He thought she would panic without them, giving herself away.

To Milton’s dismay, Isolde fought like a seasoned warrior, predicting and countering his moves. He was forced to improvise to keep the battle going, but this slowed his attack speed. Isolde’s whip attacks became increasingly overbearing.

Milton wanted to end it quickly; the longer the battle lasted, the worse it would be. He worried the maidservants would soon join Isolde; he would surely die if all three attacked him.

Suddenly, Milton threw his longsword at Isolde. She jumped, stepped on the sword, and swiftly swung her whip towards his head.

With a flash, Milton unleashed a row of silver needles. He laughed sinisterly and shouted, “Isolde Langley, go to hell!” More than ten poisonous needles flew towards Isolde. A single hit would drain her strength and kill her almost instantly.

With a swing of her whip, Isolde swept away most of the needles, but one pierced her armpit. Isolde fell with a thud, dropping her whip. Her body twitched, and she spat out blood. She looked at Milton in shock. “You… you used poison?”

Milton laughed sinisterly, lifting his sword with one foot. He approached Isolde and said coldly, “You want to kill me? You’re inexperienced. Now die.” He raised his sword to stab her chest.

Suddenly, something flashed before Milton’s eyes. He cursed, then saw Isolde sneering. He felt a chill in his chest, followed by warmth—blood spurted out, splattering Isolde’s face and body.

The pain weakened him, but Milton gritted his teeth and stabbed fiercely with his sword. Isolde rolled away from his final attack and stood up, her face covered in blood, looking coldly at Milton.

Gasping in agony, Milton asked, “You… you’re not poisoned?” His sword was stabbed into the ground. He knelt and tried to endure the pain.

Isolde had a cold smile. Her hair was messy, and she seemed thirsty for blood. She said, “Tricks and deceptions are your expertise. Taste your own medicine today. You can die now.”

Milton fell to the ground, his body twitching. He was reluctant to die at Isolde’s hands; he would rather die at the hands of the king or Doug. Scenes flashed before his eyes: himself getting rid of Doug and executing him for treason, his hands stained with Doug’s blood—a satisfying scene. His eyes were wide open as he looked at the clear sky; his chest was still.

Isolde watched as Milton breathed his last. She felt both pain and satisfaction. In the past, she hadn’t managed to avenge Milton for killing her master, Doug. Now, having traveled back in time, she had finally killed him before he could harm Doug. Milton’s scheme against Doug had been a long-term plan, years in the making, to accuse Doug of treason.

Isolde slowly knelt down, looking at Milton’s hideous corpse. She laughed out loud, and eventually, a tear wetted Milton’s face. She believed she was a scumbag; she could have avenged Doug before traveling back in time, but she hadn’t. Isolde thought her death before time travel was justified.