CHAPTER 148: CHAPTER 148: GRINDING EXPERIENCE_1

They are people, not tools. Their silence doesn’t mean they are devoid of anger; they simply suppress it deep within due to environmental pressures. The moment an outlet for their emotions is provided, their fury will be unleashed.

Lance had overheard some of this man’s experiences from the conversations around him. Having lost everything, the man had nothing left to fear. So, after hearing Lance’s words, the man’s long-suppressed rage erupted, and he pointed at one of the refugees, his teeth gritted.

"I will never forget that they beat my son to death, took away my daughter-in-law, and let my grandson, who was not yet a Full Moon old, starve to death."

Lance’s eyes, like a hawk’s, locked onto the flustered figure. He swiftly grabbed a crossbow arrow and fired with one hand. The arrow sliced through the air and pierced the man’s eye, killing him instantly before he even had a chance to cry out.

He was no longer the timid crossbowman he once was. His control over his body allowed him to execute high-precision shots with a single hand; if he aimed for the left eye, he would hit the left eye, not the right.

The sudden killing stunned the refugees into a brief pause. Before they could react further, Lance’s voice echoed among them.

"Nobody move!"

Everyone looked towards Lance and saw he had raised his empty crossbow, aiming it downwards.

"I will only kill the ringleader. Everyone else, stay still to avoid accidental harm."

In reality, as soon as Lance made his move, the soldiers had already abandoned their spears and retreated, taking cover on top of the wagons to secure the high ground. The ten loaded crossbows they held were the true reason the crowd dared not move.

It might seem laughable—ten men holding a thousand at bay—but most had been starving for days and lacked the strength to even turn around, let alone run away. Moreover, most were ordinary refugees accustomed to obedience, so the situation was controlled before it could descend into chaos.

But some, unwilling to wait for death, made their move, only to be met by merciless arrows.

Practice is the best teacher. The battles along the way had swiftly molded the soldiers, and those who dared to show themselves were hit by a volley of arrows. These soldiers weren’t as precise as Lance, so they aimed for the torso. This meant their targets wouldn’t die instantly but would fall to the ground, screaming in agony.

"This is the consequence!"

The refugees had thought themselves outlaws beyond the reach of the law, but now they realized their opponents were the truly brutal ones. With this realization, they became even more afraid to move.

"Anyone else? Point them out," Lance asked while reloading his crossbow. The act of drawing the string with one hand showcased his extraordinary strength.

The man’s gaze scanned the crowd; no one dared meet his eyes, fearful of being implicated.

"My Lord, those who fell were involved. There’s only one of them left."

The man pointed to someone who was so frightened he collapsed, crying out, "No... it wasn’t my fault! I was forced..."

Lance, observing his reaction, knew he was one of them. Without wasting words, he loosed an arrow, leaving only a corpse behind.

But Lance was not yet satisfied. He turned and shouted to the people in his camp.

"Whoever bullied you, point them out! You are my people today, and I will stand up for you!"

This declaration immediately caused a massive stir.

Throughout their escape, as free citizens of the Empire, local lords had ignored them, the Empire had ignored them, and everyone had considered them a burden. They had endured so much injustice and oppression, yet with nowhere to vent, they were forced to keep it all bottled up inside. They had thought it was all over, never imagining this man would be willing to stand up for them.

An unprecedented sense of belonging filled their hearts. Instantly, the people dropped to their knees, crying out:

"Thank you, my Lord!"

Lance felt a twinge of helplessness as he saw the situation threatening to become uncontrollable.

All he wanted was to find an excuse to kill off a group of refugees and farm some experience points. He hadn’t expected such a strong reaction from them.

"Stand up! Don’t kneel!"

Lance shouted, then hopped down from the carriage. He walked up to one man, pulled him to his feet, and then, pointing outside, said, "Tell me, who has been bullying you?"

Some of the people, regaining their composure, began to pour out their grievances.

Lance picked up a short sword. Following the victims’ accusations, he went from one accused person to the next. Once a crime was confirmed, it was met with a thrust of his sword—no one could escape his discerning gaze. If anyone dared to run, regardless of their guilt, they were struck down outright.

The judgment continued, even extending to ordinary refugees who wept and begged Lance to pass judgment on the evildoers who had harmed and oppressed them.

Since Lance was primarily there to farm experience, he naturally didn’t decline their requests. In a short time, the area outside the camp was littered with hundreds of bodies.

These were evildoers who had hidden among the refugees. They hadn’t dared to attack stronger individuals, so they had preyed on those weaker than themselves. There was no order among this group of refugees; survival of the fittest was, in their eyes, the natural way. They probably couldn’t understand why they would die over such matters.

Indeed, it takes a villain to deal with other villains.

Lance looked around with his sword drawn.

After slaughtering a hundred people, his short sword was nicked. Despite his care, it was inevitably stained with blood.

But this, far from frightening them, led the surrounding refugees to prostrate themselves before him. Those he had already gathered, in particular, displayed a fervent admiration. They had been silent for too long, with no one willing to listen to their stories. Today, through Lance’s actions, they had finally been able to vent their pent-up grievances thoroughly.

Some refugees who had not initially planned to join also rose, wanting to become part of his group. Lance, naturally, did not refuse anyone; as long as they passed his test, they could join.

The initial five hundred, plus the subsequent three hundred, brought the total to eight hundred people—all carefully selected by him.

Women and children were acceptable, but he couldn’t accept the old, weak, sick, or disabled; after all, he wasn’t some great philanthropist. These people couldn’t create value or contribute to the territory’s future. To him, they were valueless.

However, he was willing to give the remaining people a sliver of hope.

"One bowl of porridge per person if you help me clear these bodies."

The people responded enthusiastically, working together to pile the bodies onto a cart in exchange for their bowl of porridge.

Meanwhile, Lance drove the cart laden with bodies into the wilderness. He made several trips to complete all the sacrifices.

Power is truly intoxicating, Lance thought, clenching his fists and feeling the increased gift—the power—within him. In this world, only this strength can bring me a true sense of security.

Managing a camp required skill, an ability most people lacked, especially for a camp of this scale. Since Lance also lacked this expertise, he asked Tiffany for people to assist him. Merchant caravans often camped in the wild, so her people were well-versed in camp management.

Lance was also learning from them, as this knowledge could be applied to setting up military encampments. If I remain ignorant in such matters, I’ll become a laughingstock later, he thought.