CHAPTER 116: CHAPTER 116: LEARNING TO CHANGE_1

Lance raised his hands and approached, their faces finally becoming clear to each other under the moonlit night.

The sheriff appeared to be in his thirties, sporting medium-length blond hair and a matching, lush golden beard. His rugged features and spirited eyes exuded an air of stubborn resilience, suggesting an unshakable character not easily swayed by ordinary matters.

Lance’s appearance also surprised the sheriff. He had never seen such a refined face in this small town; it was one that clearly didn’t belong to ordinary folk—an air not even the town mayor possessed.

The long-haired hound, sensing Lance was not an enemy, no longer showed its earlier ferocity but instead approached and sniffed him.

It could only be said that most people judge by appearances, the sheriff included. His guard lowered significantly. He thought Lance had encountered some trouble and was about to ask when he was interrupted.

Lance didn’t speak but raised his hand, gesturing for them to speak aside.

Although confused, the sheriff followed with his dog, maintaining some distance.

"I am the sheriff here. Do you need any help?"

"Calm down first. The matter I’m about to discuss is of great importance," Lance said, not dragging things out. He simply briefed the sheriff on the evil cult and the series of abductions.

"And now, that girl has been taken by them and is about to undergo a sacrificial ritual."

"Ah!" The sheriff was shocked. His first instinct, however, wasn’t fear, nor to flee or seek help from the Church, but to rescue the victim.

"Quick, hide! I’ll go and rescue her."

"Wait." Lance stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

"Don’t interfere! I’ll take care of those Heretics!"

The sheriff was by no means frail; on the contrary, he was stronger than most malnourished townsfolk. His urgency made him raise his hand to push Lance aside, only to find the man before him immovable.

This situation caused him to pause subconsciously, and Lance took the opportunity to calm him down.

"Just listen to me. Those Heretics..."

Before Lance could finish, something else happened. A Heretic clad in a black robe walked over, but his steps suddenly halted, clearly having seen the two men on the road.

But before the sheriff could react, the black-robed figure was, in the next second, silenced and had his throat slit by a shadowy figure emerging from the darkness.

Dismas’s swift kill instantly agitated the sheriff, who instinctively swung his truncheon and dropped the leash.

"Girl, go!"

Lance, cornered and with no other option, had to act. He immediately reached for the dog’s collar. The hound, having just bolted, was brought to a sudden halt; she stumbled and slid to the ground.

His other hand shot out and grabbed the sheriff’s truncheon-wielding hand while he let out a low shout to stop the sheriff’s further action.

"He’s one of ours! Don’t mess this up!"

Damn, two hotheads.

Lance felt a surge of anger but quickly calmed himself. It was normal for misunderstandings to arise given they had no prior contact. Communication and understanding were needed, not pointless venting.

Lance quickly explained the situation and led the sheriff and the dog to meet up with Dismas.

"So you understand now, right? We’re eliminating the Heretics in town. Since the ritual hasn’t started yet, the girl is still safe."

Lance examined the Heretic’s body as he spoke. It was an ordinary person with no mutations, not even a single copper coin on them. Their face was contorted in a mask of twisted fear; they had likely died without ever seeing Dismas, completely unaware of what had transpired.

But Lance had no pity for the Heretics. It was better to feel sorry for the ordinary people they had brutally killed.

Lance stripped the robe from the corpse and threw it to Dismas.

"Find another one," Lance said. "We’ll wear these to blend in and rescue her."

The sheriff finally came to his senses, remembering he was the town’s sheriff!

"No, this is too dangerous," he said. "I will go and rescue her. This isn’t your responsibility."

"No~." Lance rose and faced him. "This is my duty."

This was his territory, after all. Although it had become independent, he planned to reclaim it eventually. In essence, the people living here were his subjects, and he had the responsibility to save them and drive all Heretics from his land.

The sheriff did not understand his words, but when Lance spoke in a commanding tone, he inexplicably felt compelled to obey.

"You will understand why later," Lance said. "But for now, if you want to save her, do as I say. You keep watch here; we’ll find another robe. Don’t act rashly and mess up the plan."

Lance offered a vague explanation but quickly brought the focus back. He then glanced at Dismas, who, without hesitation, donned the robe and strode out boldly.

Lance also picked up the corpse and disappeared into the darkness. Once out of sight, he performed the Sacrifice, then dumped all the miscellaneous items into the Exhibition Room and began searching for the next ’lucky one.’

As a law enforcer, the sheriff, though eager to rush in and rescue the victim, understood they needed a united front. Raising his hand, he gently patted his dog.

Hunting dogs are generally very smart and seem to understand their master’s emotions. The dog immediately leaned in and nuzzled against him, the two comforting each other, soothing the sheriff’s anxious heart.

Fortunately, Lance and his companion returned quickly. Dressed in the black robes with their heads slightly lowered, they indeed looked indistinguishable from the Heretics.

"You keep watch outside," Lance instructed. "We two will go in. After roughly five minutes, open the door to distract the Heretics for us."

"My Lord," Dismas said, reminding him, "aren’t we waiting for the Heretics outside to come over? Our original plan was to secure the location and ambush their reinforcements; why the sudden change?"

"No plan is set in stone," Lance explained. "All plans are based on reasonable predictions of the current situation, so they only fit the circumstances at the moment they’re conceived.

"Previously, with just the two of us, we lacked the manpower to control the situation, so rescuing the girl required a more conservative approach.

"But when the actual situation changes, the plan must also change. Never execute a plan blindly. Adaptations are crucial, or it will only lead to greater problems.

"Now, with three of us and a dog, as long as he distracts the Heretics, we’re confident we can rescue the girl. Once the hostage is safe, a few Heretics will be trivial.

"As long as we avoid drawing outside attention while eliminating those inside controlling the slaughterhouse, the remaining Heretics will come to us on their own."

As the saying goes: an army’s disposition is like water—its form is not constant. Plans must always adapt to changing circumstances.

Dismas understood his Lord’s meaning and said no more.

Lance asked the sheriff, "Can I trust you?"

"Understood," the sheriff responded with a serious expression, nodding his agreement.

"It’s in your hands," Lance said, patting the sheriff’s shoulder. Then, wrapping himself in the black robe, he strode towards their target.