The Unspoken Protector

What consequences would one face for openly berating the Saintess, a symbol of the nation who had saved countless lives? Online, opinions varied wildly.

Yet, Li Tianming could offer a concrete answer. Absolutely none.

Indeed, that was precisely what happened after he had cursed Xie Shenhong.

No one came to hold him accountable; his medals and rewards were distributed as usual.

Of course, no wall is truly airtight, and some did whisper and point about his outburst against his superior. However, not a single person came forward to defend the Saintess’s honor.

Even the kingdom’s high-ranking officials, aware of Xie Shenhong’s true identity, did not move against him.

Li Tianming was well aware of the profound reverence the kingdom held for its Saintess. This could only mean one thing: the Saintess herself had intervened to prevent any repercussions.

Initially, Li Tianming, still seething with anger, merely assumed Xie Shenhong felt guilty and wished to atone, thus accepting the situation with a clear conscience.

Yet, as time wore on and his impulsive anger subsided, he began to feel regret.

His regret wasn’t born of concern for others, but rather a fear of future retribution. Such was his shameful and brazen nature.

Consequently, not long after his return, he applied for a transfer to the border for support, hoping to atone for his misdeeds.

During this period, he never once sought out Xie Shenhong, nor did he dare to observe her from afar, fearing she might recall such an insignificant figure as himself.

Before long, he arrived at the western border.

The primary adversary in the western territories was the Imperial Army, and he had braced himself with utmost vigilance. He had also mentally prepared for the possibility of sacrificing his life at any moment.

However, the situation he encountered there left Li Tianming somewhat astonished.

The tense atmosphere he had anticipated, similar to that during the Eastern Expedition, was conspicuously absent.

It wasn’t exactly lax either; if anything, it was brimming with vitality and meticulously ordered.

Here, military regulations were exceedingly strict, yet they primarily governed conduct and ideological development.

Soldiers were, after all, human. To ensure their obedience, they needed to comprehend *why* they fought, what they stood to gain, and what they could achieve through battle.

They needed to understand what the kingdom could do for them in return for their valiant efforts, and whether the future of the kingdom would truly improve through their sacrifices.

Beyond merely ensuring obedience, military discipline also emphasized fostering strong relationships between soldiers and the populace. ‘He who has the Way has many helpers; he who has lost the Way has few.’

War was not solely the concern of generals and soldiers. If the common people became their eyes and ears, welcomed their army, and eagerly anticipated their arrival, victory would naturally be assured.

For no apparent reason, Li Tianming found himself recalling Xie Shenhong’s words from long ago.

Soon, he realized his premonition was correct.

The most frequent occurrence at the border wasn’t an Imperial Army assault, but rather the common people fleeing from the Empire’s side.

Regrettably, despite the prosperity enjoyed by the kingdom’s own citizens, accepting these defecting individuals meant they could only be sent back.

After a moment’s thought, Li Tianming offered the refugees a simple welcome and conversed with them before they were sent back.

“What did you say to them?” the border commander inquired.

“I asked them the reasons for leaving their homes,” Li Tianming replied.

“On that point, we already have detailed intelligence,” the commander stated. “It’s nothing new; the Empire’s border officers forcibly conscript magic stones and able-bodied men, making life unsustainable for them.”

“So I told them they didn’t actually need to flee,” Li Tianming continued. “They just needed to inform us after those border officers acted.”

The commander immediately grasped Li Tianming’s strategy. Subsequently, this approach rapidly spread, eventually leading to a situation where all villages and towns within Imperial territory along the border leaned favorably towards the kingdom’s border guards — but that was a story for later.

Before any of that, Li Tianming had noticed something else.

Everyone held the distant Saintess in immense reverence. Whether it was a rebellious impulse, a guilty conscience, or simply an inability to see her prosper, Li Tianming couldn’t tell.

He found himself unable to resist asking the crowd:

“If the Saintess is truly so powerful, why doesn’t she simply breach the Imperial border defenses?”

As a noble, Li Tianming was a well-read man. His education, amidst the rough-and-tumble border folk, made him stand out like a crane among chickens.

Yet, at that moment, he became the target of collective ridicule from these mostly illiterate individuals.

“Tell me, Lord Li, you’re a wealthy man, aren’t you?” one of them challenged. “Why don’t *you* go and relieve the poor?”

‘That’s different,’ he weakly retorted.

“How is it different?” another scoffed. “Surely you don’t think the Saintess can’t manage without us, do you?”

He was left speechless.

‘I, for one, think the Saintess is far too hands-on with many things,’ he mused inwardly. ‘What noble lord charges ahead of his knights? That only happens in novels.’

Nevertheless, the conversation continued. “There’s nothing for it,” someone sighed. “It’s our fault as useless knights; we can’t even alleviate the Saintess’s burdens.”

The more he listened, the more uncomfortable Li Tianming felt.

“Surely no one is so incompetent as to expect the Saintess to be like a mother, managing everything for them, right?” The words made him feel as though countless ants were crawling over his skin.

He couldn’t help but challenge them: “Don’t you think the Saintess is too cruel, too dismissive of life? To slaughter forty thousand people in a single stroke, treating lives as mere blades of grass…”

The jovial laughter at the banquet died away.

Everyone turned to look at Li Tianming in unison. It was as if *he* were the one in the wrong.

“Tell me, Lord Li, whose side are you on?” one asked, then quickly corrected, “No, have you ever considered how many people the Saintess saved by doing that?”

“No, I actually had similar concerns at first, but the Saintess’s actions afterward proved she isn’t someone who indiscriminately slaughters the innocent.”

“How does that saying go? ‘You’re not a bear, so how do you know what a bear thinks?'”

“It’s ‘you can’t have your fish and bear’s paw too’… no, that doesn’t sound quite right. Never mind that. Anyway, Lord Li, don’t blame us for singling you out. We’re just analyzing based on what the Saintess has done, which isn’t very reliable. But given your status, you’ve had the chance to interact with the Saintess, haven’t you? If you have doubts, why not go and see for yourself what kind of person she truly is?”

Li Tianming departed in silence.

As for “interacting with the Saintess,” he had already done so.

Though it had only been a brief three months, what he had learned and understood during that time surpassed all the knowledge accumulated in his life prior.

He already knew what kind of person she was. He simply didn’t want to acknowledge it.

Thus, he drifted through his days, until one day, they apprehended an Imperial soldier who was cursing incessantly and in a state of high agitation.

“Damn it all! If it weren’t for that witch, how could we ever have lost to you useless bunch!”

In that moment, Li Tianming could no longer bury his head in the sand.

The Empire was a land of exceptional people and a constant source of powerful individuals.

There were hundreds of Battle Dukes alone. Even with the need to guard against the Great Desert Khanate in the north, they were not so bereft of combat-ready forces that they couldn’t contend with the kingdom.

Even if the kingdom had won the hearts of the border villages and towns, against overwhelming power, all such efforts would be futile.

Yet, the reality was that the Imperial Army consistently dared not cross the border. Even instigating conflicts beyond a company size left them trembling with apprehension and paralyzed by fear.

The reason, then, was starkly obvious.

The Saintess’s luminous presence alone was already safeguarding the kingdom.

She was protecting the subordinates who, for Li Tianming, had once again become profoundly important. And it wasn’t merely protection.

Over these past years, people’s lives had steadily improved. More and more smiles graced their faces.

All of this was thanks to the Saintess. All thanks to Xie Shenhong.

‘What exactly was I doing back then?’ Li Tianming knew he had been wrong.

He requested leave and returned to the Royal Capital, intending to apologize to her in person.

This time, however, he was intercepted.

“You’re too late,” the white-robed youth informed him. It was then that Li Tianming learned the truth — the Saintess was no longer in the country.