These human traffickers didn’t deserve any sympathy. If they weren’t still useful, he would have fucking killed them already. In his past life or this one, he wished he could flay these bastards alive a thousand tis over.
"Rember, you only have one chance. If you make a mistake, the next knife will be at your neck."
"Big Brother... I’ll definitely lead you to her... Please, I beg you to spare !"
The man gasped, begging for rcy. He now felt it would have been better to die in battle than endure this.
Yet, the intense pain also sparked his will to live, making him fear death even more.
Lance couldn’t be bothered with him. After giving Reynard so instructions, he left him to guard the camp while he took the others to the small town.
The so-called town wasn’t a town in the modern sense. Rather, it was a growing settlent that, once it reached a certain population, would be called a town.
This scale of settlent had also given rise to stable comrcial activities, further attracting people from nearby rural areas to co and develop it.
Lance led his n openly into the small town, observing the surroundings.
It was much like the villages, mostly simple longhouses separated by fences, with chickens and ducks kept within.
Outside the town lay vast farmlands where many people were tending to crops.
Yet, in contrast to the robust crops, most of the townsfolk were thin and frail, their faces etched with the hardships of life.
No doubt the situation was similar to Hamlet’s. Most of these fields were controlled by farm owners, and those laboring in them were nothing more than Serfs.
However, unlike the dilapidated state of Hamlet, this place hadn’t been ravaged by bandits on a large scale; it was largely intact. The more crowded it beca, the livelier and more prosperous it seed, but the sanitary conditions were appalling.
Lance, who had a slight aversion to uncleanliness, could sll a fernted stink like a pigsty the mont he arrived. He also had to carefully avoid the large patches of excrent littering the ground.
The ground was all mud. He was just thankful it hadn’t rained; otherwise, he wouldn’t have dared to step into a scene overflowing with muck and filth.
Only when he approached the center of the small town did he see wooden buildings taller than two stories—clearly the town’s central area.
As he stepped onto the busiest street, a middle-aged woman stopped him. Raising a piece of paper, she asked in a hoarse voice, "Have you seen my daughter?"
Without needing a close look, it was evident the paper was a missing person notice. Lance’s expression hardened as he looked back at the woman. Her face was blank, her eyes devoid of light, and her cheeks were streaked with tear tracks, dried and then wetted anew, over and over.
Witnessing this, Lance felt anger burn within him. He now regretted killing those traffickers so easily; they had gotten off too lightly.
But he managed to control his emotions and asked the woman gently,
"I haven’t seen her, but tell when your daughter went missing. I’ll help look for her."
"It was early this morning..."
After so discussion, he learned her daughter worked at a farm as a dairymaid. She usually went there early in the morning to milk the cows for the day’s supply. The farm staff notified the family when the daughter hadn’t shown up. They waited for a long ti, but she didn’t return. Considering the recent spate of disappearances, they realized she had been kidnapped.
If what she said was true, there were no leads, no eyewitnesses, and no clues.
Fortunately, he didn’t need to investigate to be sure of the culprit; now it was just a matter of finding the person.
Lance also learned that the disappearances in town mostly involved girls between fifteen and twenty years old, and all had occurred within the past month—precisely when Hamlet had fallen.
What exactly were the Heretics plotting...
"I will help look for her. Don’t worry."
After leaving the woman, Lance slowly turned to the man. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he pulled him closer, his gaze as sharp as a blade.
"Where is the person you spoke of?"
Realizing Lance was very angry, the man hurriedly said, "Right in the backstreet! According to their instructions, captives are taken there after being caught."
"You should know the consequences of lying to ." Lance increased the pressure of his hand, causing a pained expression to appear on the man’s face.
"I’m absolutely not lying!"
"Take there now. If we don’t find the person, you know what’s coming to you!" Lance released his hold, but his gaze grew more ferocious.
Naturally, the man dared not waste any more words and led them straight to the so-called backstreet, which was actually just a row of houses behind the central area.
The flow of people here was quite steady. So shops were established here, along with so ’special workers.’
Unlike Hamlet, which had a port to sustain fishern, sailors, and rcenaries, this place was mostly farmland, and its inhabitants were generally poor. Consequently, no sizeable brothels had developed; instead, there were only individual operators.
Won stood outside doorways, enduring the gazes of passersby. So appeared calm, while others were more enthusiastic, waving at n or gyrating their bodies and casting sultry glances.
It was as if they were unaware of their own dignity as humans, instead showcasing themselves like goods.
"Big guy, co and have so fun!"
"Handso, co take a look!"
"..."
Lance glanced over and saw they were very ordinary-looking won. So even looked sickly, as if they had a disease, making him recoil.
In contrast, Dismas seed quite interested, appraising them and remarking, "The quality of won here seems quite average."
"Haven’t you learned your lesson with won? Or have you forgotten what we’re here for?"
Lance’s quiet, chilling words imdiately made Dismas shrink back.
He instantly rembered the woman they had encountered during the bandit extermination. That had been a close call, and she was a Heretic.
Dismas composed himself, his deanor becoming cautious.
"It’s that house."
The man gestured with his eyes. Lance glanced over and saw that its doors and windows were tightly shut, and it looked uninhabited.
He didn’t approach, however. Instead, he turned his head to look at an open doorway on the opposite side, where a woman leaned.
"Sir, you’re mistaken. It’s the one opposite," Dismas whispered.
But Lance paid him no heed. While they were speaking, he had already started walking toward her.
"Hello, I have so matters I’d like to discuss with you." Lance assessed her: a very ordinary woman, appearing to be in her early twenties.
The woman glanced at Lance, seemingly curious as to why such a handso man would co to a place like this.
Dismas, bringing the man with him, caught up. When the woman saw both of them approach, her expression changed slightly, and she spoke with a hint of disdain,
"You’ll have to pay extra for that!"
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