CHAPTER 177: CHAPTER 175: REFUGEE CAMP_2

Never mind one hundred thousand people; even one hundred thousand pigs would be more than he could handle.

Even though the situation here had already reached this state, it still couldn’t stem the continuous flow of arriving refugees. They dragged their families along, pushing wooden carts laden with all their belongings, clinging to hope for Totnes.

Lance couldn’t bear to watch anymore and couldn’t be bothered to intervene. He had quickly realized that such emotions were futile and duly corrected his mindset.

He didn’t have the right to any enjoyments, so naturally, he didn’t need to bear any responsibility for these refugees. In simple terms—who the hell do you think you are? What’s your status? What damn business of yours are the Empire’s great affairs?

He only needed to follow his own rhythm: develop the territory, then accumulate strength to go trouble his ancestor. As long as his ancestor lived, he would not have a day of peace.

The two of them crossed the refugee area and finally stopped at a spot near the riverbank, on the edge of the refugee camp.

"This is the place."

Lance surveyed the surroundings. He had come out today specifically to select a campsite, choose refugees, and then quickly head back.

This place was close to the riverbank, allowing boats to dock directly for boarding without a detour. Water could also be sourced nearby to meet the camp’s needs.

Of course, a camp of a thousand people could not possibly be managed by him alone. The Walter Conglomerate still had some people here. After the agreed-upon time, a small boat arrived, delivering a shipment of supplies and relevant personnel.

Lance only had to give an order, and those people would set up the camp. At the same time, he could finally execute his plan.

"You stay here and guard. If anyone causes trouble, chop him down directly. If you do a good job, your drink will be settled tonight."

Boudica had no interest in the refugee camp to begin with, let alone when the matter concerned "drink"—which was a big deal to her. She promptly raised her War Halberd and let out a roar, shouting strange and peculiar words.

"If anyone dares to attack..."

Lance couldn’t be bothered with her ranting and turned back towards the refugees. However, in his vision, the world turned pale.

Spiritual Vision, activate!

How great is the potential of Supernatural Power?

Lance realized that this was a path not vastly inferior to the technological one. As a utilitarian, he did not shun Supernatural Power. In fact, this path had already been trodden by others, which could save him a lot of time and better align with his urgent time constraints. Conversely, the technological path required significant time accumulation to show results, making it challenging to quickly form combat capabilities.

To contend with Supernatural Power, one must comprehend, become familiar with, and control Supernatural Power.

So, at this time, he needed to start preparing the necessary talents.

The view before him was bleak. One could only say that the Church and various Extraordinary forces had scoured too thoroughly, leaving not even the slightest scrap for him.

He stopped abruptly, looking toward a lonely child standing by the roadside. In front of the child lay a fallen corpse with graying hair, clearly an elderly person.

He could roughly guess what had happened—someone had held on with their last breath to bring the child here, and the moment their deep-seated wish was fulfilled, they could hold on no longer.

The child, about five or six years old, just stared blankly at the corpse, not crying or making a fuss.

But Lance noticed the intense, fluctuating Spiritual Aura emanating from the child and finally understood the spiritual fluctuations triggered by extreme emotions, as described by the author of *Spiritual Vision*.

"What’s your name?" Lance approached.

"Isaac." The child looked up at Lance, his expression calm, without a trace of fear. However, Lance, through his vision, perceived a different situation.

It looked more like he had fallen into an extreme state that masked his original emotions.

"Come with me," Lance said, smiling as he reached out his hand to the boy.

「...」

The camp’s influence was expanding continually.

Adhering to the same criteria, Lance selected families from among the refugees to incorporate into the camp. Only with familial ties would they seek stability and earnestly contribute to the territory’s development.

No prominent clans, no single drifters, no one physically disabled, no one too unsightly... As the conditions increased, fewer people met his targets.

Of course, he made exceptions for certain talents: craftsmen, the literate, those skilled in arithmetic, or those with a specialized skill.

Truth be told, after sifting through so many refugees, some talented individuals could still be found, though their condition was generally poor.

Basically, only refugees who had endured severe beatings chose to join. Some had already established themselves by exploiting other refugees, while others, having just arrived, still harbored illusions about Totnes.

Lance didn’t mind; everything was scarce here, except for people.

If you don’t come, there are plenty of others who will!

The only pity was that Lance had to search the entire area to find only seven children with Extraordinary Talent.

As for adults, it wasn’t that there weren’t any, but Lance disliked those with fully formed values. He needed to cultivate his own Transcendents, even if it took some extra time.

Notices were posted at the camp entrance, and with some people spreading the word, a steady stream of individuals came, wanting to join.

Naturally, most were attracted by the constant aroma of food wafting from the camp’s large cooking pot.

Lance did not delegate this task but personally presided over the camp entrance, allowing only those he selected to join.

And here, one family passed the test and emerged. Amidst the envious and jealous gazes of others, they huddled together, chanting some spiritual mumbo jumbo in unison.

"Oh~ thank the Holy Light, it is Your protection..."

"Hmm?" Lance frowned upon hearing this and immediately pointed a finger. "You’re not allowed to join the camp."

This unexpected command stunned the family; their joy, not yet faded, was rapidly overtaken by panic.

Weren’t we just accepted?

"Sir... we..."

"No need to say more. The Church’s relief station is in the city. Go ask your god to save you. I’m recruiting Serfs here, people who will work."

Damn it! I saved your family, and not only do you not thank me, you thank the fucking Church instead?

If you love God so much, then I shall grant your wish; let your god come save you.

"I can work!" The family wanted to make a last attempt, but Lance couldn’t be bothered to waste more time on them, simply waving his hand dismissively.

"Next."

Deprived of the opportunity, ashen-faced and stunned, the family stood rooted to the spot, the contrast to their recent joy stark.

If they had been rejected outright, it would have been better. But they never expected to be chosen only to lose their chance over a single sentence.

Feeling a tug at his clothes, the man looked down at the eager eyes of his child. Their family had been hungry for a long time. He wanted to plead, but Lance paid him no attention. Eventually, driven by the crowd, they had no choice but to turn and leave in humiliation.

The surrounding onlookers, however, burst into schadenfreude-filled laughter and expressions of relief; with fewer competitors, their own chances increased.

Those who entered the camp didn’t look kindly upon the believers either. They had all been shallow believers at some point, but their harrowing escape had made them realize the reality of their situation.

Bullshit Bright Church is useless; Holy Light can’t fill empty stomachs.

Only their new lord truly fulfilled his promises, providing them with a stable environment where they didn’t have to worry about being bullied or going hungry.

And this was precisely the sentiment Lance had been instilling in them, intentionally or not: those religious charlatans could fucking well keep their distance.

He had little interest in believers who couldn’t distinguish reality. No matter how well he treated them, they would attribute it all to their god.

They held no value for transformation; anyone could replace them.

Moreover, resources were strained, and it wasn’t possible to waste any on these people.

The selection for the camp took place by the riverbank, on the edge of the refugee camp. Less than a hundred meters from its gate lay the main road, the very route everyone hoping to enter Totnes had to travel.

Meanwhile, as Lance busied himself with inspections, a commotion outside caught his attention.

A surge of spiritual fluctuations erupted, palpable even without Spiritual Vision. This was something he had never encountered before, so he stood up to look.