CHAPTER 353: CHAPTER 251: ELIMINATION OF THE LAST PLACE_2

Although he had already guessed, Lance couldn’t help but frown.

Anyone would feel uncomfortable seeing this. Killing was normal for them, but this... These Heretics, why don’t they eat vegetables? Their diet is so unhealthy...

Complaints aside, Lance still felt somewhat distressed, as this was something any normal person couldn’t accept.

"The muscles on the corpses don’t look like those of refugees; they must be one of them who failed their training and were eaten by the others after dying."

Lance observed and made his judgment. It has to be admitted that this is a true survival-of-the-fittest system: whoever loses the fight becomes the next day’s meal. Could there be any greater incentive to train hard?

"My Lord, there’s more over here." Reynard’s face could not be seen under his helmet, but one could feel he harbored negative emotions towards the scene as well.

Skeletons, mainly difficult-to-dispose-of bones, were tossed into a pile here, forming a small hill. Their bleached appearance made it clear they had been boiled, and the strong stench of decay was overwhelming.

Among these remnants, Lance saw many skulls, some not much bigger than a fist; he now realized where all the weak and sick had gone.

Those captured were sorted for suitability; the rest became food. They consumed human flesh day in and day out. When one meal was finished, they started on another. No wonder they could transition from the emaciated physique of refugees to strong, muscular builds in such a short time.

So, apart from the ritualistic aspects, there was an endless supply of meat.

Seeing this, a solemn expression finally spread across Lance’s face.

He had believed that with "Sacrifice" in his hand, as long as he cleared the corpses, plundered their Spiritual Essence, and prevented any deaths among his ranks, Lord Hamlet wouldn’t be able to gather more Spiritual Essence. Consequently, his power would struggle to increase.

This was why I felt confident in playing a long game.

But now, it seems my control outside of Hamlet is too weak; this group of refugees is fattening up the old beast.

The only solution is to conscript more soldiers and expand the area under my control.

"Open up this area and let those soldiers come to see for themselves."

"Huh?" Reynard was surprised. He himself felt immense pressure from this scene; if the soldiers saw it, it would certainly cause unrest among them.

"There’s nothing to hide. If they can’t handle even this, then they have no place in the military. I only want the elite."

The recent situation made Lance realize that some would inevitably fall behind. He needed an army elite enough, fearless enough to face Lord Hamlet’s monsters.

Those with insufficient resolve or poor mentality could be reassigned to maintain public order or to ordinary military units to face humans. After all, not all missions required confronting such monsters; the threat from their own kind was just as urgent.

Once the area was opened up, it quickly attracted the soldiers. When they witnessed the scene, their expressions varied.

Some were uneasy, some angry, some nauseous and retching...

"Do you see?" Lance shouted, standing before the soldiers, the pile of white bones behind him.

"This is an evil cult! They are so twisted and insane they can no longer be called human! If we had let them go earlier, you would be hanging there, I would be boiling in that pot, and our families and friends would be that pile of white bones! Will you allow this to happen?"

"No!"

"No!!"

"No!!!"

With just a few words, Lance had stirred up the atmosphere. The soldiers roared with rage. They felt they had been too lenient before. Their gazes turned toward the captured Heretics, wishing they could kill them all.

Barton, standing to the side, was not feeling much better. The scene made him reflect on certain things.

Thankfully, at the last moment, My Lord saved me. If I had fallen then, I probably would have become one of these wretches, right? Just the thought sends a chill down my spine; I would rather die than become one of those monsters...

Boudica seemed to fare a little better. There truly were cannibalistic tribes in the Mountains; she had grown up hearing about them from the Elders. However, this scene still gave her a great shock.

"Take a half-hour break, then escort the captives back."

With a wave of his hand, Lance set the soldiers into motion.

Some things didn’t require his personal involvement; someone else would naturally arrange them. This was the allure of power and influence.

He wasn’t idle, though. He had understood the soldiers’ reactions, but he was somewhat curious about the attitude of those captives.

However, when he looked at them, the hatred in their eyes told him they wished they could flay Lance alive, the man who had ruined their grand Ascension project.

Lance couldn’t have cared less. A caged dog, no matter how fierce, couldn’t bite. On the contrary, it made him feel like teasing the dog.

With a gesture, he ordered a captive to be brought over.

"Do you know what kind of meat you’ve been eating?"

Perhaps the recent events had made the captive aware that he wouldn’t leave alive, which might explain his dismissive attitude towards Lance or the question.

Lance didn’t mind and continued with a mocking tone, "You killed your family and then ate them, do you realize that~"

Upon hearing this, the man’s expression distorted abnormally, and he argued, "What do you know? Their Flesh and blood will ascend with us!"

"Laughable. You don’t even believe that yourself. Isn’t it your own incompetence that led your family to this end, to become someone else’s dinner?"

The captives, aside from a few veteran Heretics deliberately spared, all surrendered. If they truly believed this nonsense, they would have charged from the start, not waited to be subdued, right?

This statement pierced through his pathetic façade, causing the Heretic to become enraged. He lunged at Lance, but not only was Lance too formidable for him, Boudica, who was nearby, was also swift to react. She kicked him hard, gripping her War Halberd and warning fiercely, "Behave, kid, or I’ll chop you down!"

Already bound by ropes, the kick sent him tumbling like a gourd, rolling twice on the ground. He could only shift his body sideways, unable to stand up, his appearance becoming exceptionally wretched as he was smeared with dirt.

He was already unhinged, and this pushed him to a mental breakdown. He couldn’t stop himself from crying out and cursing at Lance, "It’s all your fault! You imperial lackeys drove us to this path, and now you pretend to be the good guys here? The first thing I’ll do after Ascension is to kill all you Nobility..."

The Heretic’s words roughly hinted at how natural disasters and human calamities had driven him into this desperate situation.

It had been said before that those saved by the Empire, local Nobility, or the Church wouldn’t become refugees. Therefore, the refugees’ experiences were likely very similar.

The trouble was, many of the soldiers here were former refugees who had changed professions. His words struck a chord with some of them.

Barton quickly noticed this and immediately rebuked with a sharp tone, "Soldiers! Do not be beguiled by these Heretics!"

At the same time, Reynard reacted, walking over with his Longsword drawn, his intent clear without words.

However, just as he raised his Longsword to strike, Lance stopped him with a raised hand and said calmly, "I never did those things, so why should I fear his curses?"

If this truly threatened my rule, this fellow would have been dead the moment he opened his mouth. Why would I allow him to continue speaking?

This is what I fear the least. In fact, I wish this fellow would say more, disparaging the Imperial Nobles and the Church until they seem utterly worthless.

Only then, by contrast, can I win the people’s hearts. In fact, I even think he hasn’t made it sound tragic or harsh enough.

Lance’s words struck the crowd like a bolt of lightning, awakening them as if with a sudden epiphany.

That’s right! Who is our Lord? How could we have wavered just now? This is disloyalty! Guilt tormented their hearts, and at the same time, a deeper aversion and vigilance towards these individuals arose within them.

The Heretic probably never imagined that saying so much would instead help the enemy consolidate the people’s loyalty.

With everything that needed to be done completed, Lance immediately ordered the camp to be burned down and the prisoners escorted back.

"Let’s go, we’re going home."