CHAPTER 103: CHAPTER 103: BLOOD OATH_1

"Evil cult..." the captain muttered, anger flaring on his face.

Lance nodded slightly at his reaction. He needed a reason, a reason to galvanize the captain with renewed vigor.

After all, a dejected captain was of no use to him; he needed a warrior full of zeal, and clearly, the evil cult was an excellent target.

"It’s quite simple. The evil cult knew that the Church had sent the Order of Knights to inspect this place, so they gathered hordes of thugs, bandits, and robbers to invade Hamlet, and you were among them. As for the reason..."

Lance spoke and then paused abruptly, deliberately steering the conversation away.

"I’ve taken note of your conduct during this period. I believe you were bewitched by the evil cult, and it wasn’t your intention to plunder the town. So, heal your wounds and then leave Hamlet. The affairs here are far more complex than you can imagine, and there’s no need for an outsider like you to get involved."

"Tell me!" the captain demanded, looking up to meet Lance’s gaze, his own eyes fiery and resolute.

Lance observed his response. If the captain chose to flee, he wouldn’t make it out this door. Now it seems he has made the right choice.

Lance lifted his gaze to the others. They, too, realized what their Lord was about to disclose, grasping the reason they had been called back.

For a moment, the atmosphere grew serious. Even the usually unbridled Dismas was somber.

The captain noticed this and understood that the matter of the evil cult was not so simple.

But he was not afraid. He had nothing left to lose.

"If you want to know why the evil cult has done this, then listen to our story and the story of this land."

As Lance began to speak slowly, the captain quickly became engrossed.

However, Lance didn’t mention the thousand-year history this time. Instead, he spoke directly about receiving a Divine Revelation to inherit the land and revealed the truth about the evil cult and the Flesh Ancient God. Of course, he also mentioned how he had stood up after witnessing the suffering the evil cult inflicted upon the people.

Lies needed to be covered with more lies. Now, his increased power meant he no longer had to sway others with stories. So, after deceiving a few core individuals, Lance had made it clear that only they were privy to those secrets, urging them to maintain confidentiality.

In the eyes of Dismas and the others, the captain was clearly not worthy of knowing their Lord’s family secrets.

Later, Lance would streamline the story, attributing everything to Divine Revelation and focusing his sights squarely on the evil cult and the Evil God.

It was simple enough: I am the chosen one. The Evil God’s arrival will destroy the world. Won’t everything be resolved if you just follow me?

And those privileged enough to hear this story had no grounds to refuse, as they were, in some unseen way, already entwined in these matters.

Just like him.

"So, do you understand? The only way to cleanse yourself of your sins is to destroy the evil cult, reseal the Evil God, and pursue your own redemption!"

"I, Barton, swear to slay the Evil God!" the captain exclaimed through gritted teeth. He wished he could grab a weapon and kill those Evil Gods right now.

He didn’t aspire to save the world. He was simply compelled by the deaths of his brothers and the sins he himself had caused to fight the evil cult to the bitter end.

"Remember the words you spoke today. If you betray them, you will become our enemy, and you should know full well the fate of our enemies."

Lance’s indifferent gaze bore down on him, an invisible pressure enveloping the captain.

"My Lord, there’s no need for further words!" The captain seized a teacup beside him, smashed it on the ground, then picked up a shard and viciously slashed it across his own face.

The sharp edges of the fragment sliced directly across his cheek, and blood burst forth uncontrollably, staining half his face red.

"I, Barton, swear loyalty to My Lord."

A Blood Oath. It was an ancient ritual, one that had even become obsolete, but undeniably, it carried a more powerful impact than a normal vow.

Not only Lance, but even Reynard and the others beside him felt the captain’s determination and couldn’t help but become solemn, realizing they were witnesses.

"Only cowards need to mutilate themselves to prove their worth. Real men have always used their enemy’s blood for that."

Lance raised his hand to activate Flesh Reconstruction, and the wound on his face healed at a visibly rapid pace.

The others were not surprised by this scene, but the captain was stunned. He touched his face; the wound had actually healed. At the same time, a tingling sensation came from the remaining injuries on his body, which also healed before he could fully comprehend what had happened.

He finally understood why he hadn’t died from his severe injuries before.

"This... Divine Arts..."

"My Lord is not one of those charlatans from the Church," Reynard said, frowning as he felt the captain’s words insulted their Lord. He quickly corrected him.

Dismas chimed in, "My Lord is a savior. Isn’t it normal for him to know some secret techniques?"

The captain sensed that the atmosphere within the team was somewhat strange. Before he could understand why, a handkerchief suddenly materialized in Lance’s hand. Lance passed it over, indicating, "Alright, wipe your face. Since you’ve joined us, you’re one of us now. There’s no need for so much formality."

This act of conjuring the handkerchief also left the captain amazed. He finally understood what it meant to receive a Divine Revelation; the Lord was indeed chosen by the gods.

"Sit down. I have some questions for you."

Lance nonchalantly returned to his seat and sat down, then promptly asked an important question.

"What exactly happened during that war you experienced?"

Barton looked at Lance in surprise. It was strange that the Lord would know about this.

As for Dismas and the others, they also remembered the incident and showed their curiosity, especially since Laosan had vehemently refused to discuss it, which was unusual.

But Barton didn’t have so many reservations and began to recount what happened.

"The orders given to the regular soldiers were to drive out the refugees. However, only the Commander and a few others in the unit knew that our true targets were not the refugees, but those Heretics.

"According to intelligence, the Church had discovered a new faith emerging among the refugees. They worshipped an Evil God known as the Sons of Harvest. Rumor had it that worshipping this god would bring abundant harvests and endless food.

"This belief spread rapidly among the refugee groups, who were suffering from drought-induced famine. Soon, many refugees joined this faith, and it gradually grew into a considerable force.

"This mob had overrun numerous towns and villages. Realizing the threat posed by the evil cult, the higher-ups dispatched the army, along with Knights and Crusaders summoned by the Church, to suppress them.

"We originally thought this evil cult was just an excuse for a refugee uprising, until we found those... people."

At this, Barton fell silent, as if struggling to find the words to describe the situation, or perhaps, more likely, he simply didn’t want to dredge up that deep-seated memory.

"What was it?" Dismas pressed, seeing him stop, unable to wait.