Archer fell to one knee. At first he rubbed his jaw, wiped the blood from his eye, made to rise - but then he paused in remembrance, and offered a prayer, looking up at the sky as anointed blood touched the earth. Every wound was sacred in such a war. Every mark of battle brought one closer to the Lord and the Lord's resurrection. 

"Forgive my ancestor, O King of Kings, for she does not understand of what she speaks."

Two blackened shadows rise to either side of the kneeling Servant.

"Like Thomas, she doubts the Resurrection. Believing only in death she shall not have eternal life. She who believes only in the spear..."

Two flashes of murderous darkness closed in on the kneeling crusader.

"... let her die by the spear."

The detonation of golden light tears through the forest. Trees are ripped up by their roots. Boulders are shattered into powder. The earth howls and lies flat. Nature's tempest is but a shadow compared to this, the weapon that spilled the blood of God. The Holy Spear rises bright above the ruins of the woods, and in its light there is no place for shadows and no place to hide. Saber's shadows are burned away to nothing.

"Ancestor, when you plundered the English churches you imagined yourself strong," he declared with a voice of thunder. "But they knew you to be weak. For though their mortal flesh would die, it is your immortal soul that would be destroyed. I, Bohemond of Antioch, wielder of the Lance of Longinus, holiest relic of Christendom, now bring you your long destined judgement."

Of Diaofei and the dragon there was but the sign of a bloodstain on the ground. The fox - Bohemond's master had the same idea as you, and with the apocalyptic energy filling the air there was no time to hunt her down.