Those on the scene could sense York’s listlessness. He had dared to talk back to the woman repeatedly earlier, threatening and intimidating her, but couldn’t even finish a sentence in front of this man.
"So, what’s the problem?"
Lance looked at the woman. Upon closer inspection, he found her quite interesting. He noticed she wasn’t wearing a lady’s gown but a type of casual n’s attire popular in the city. Furthermore, her style leaned more towards a masculine one. Indeed, it was daring for a woman to have short black hair in this era. She wore no makeup, yet her delicate features were apparent, though tinged with weariness.
Who would have thought Walter could have such a beautiful daughter.
The recent ordeal had clearly taken its toll; her expression was tinged with anger, but more so with helplessness. However, she hadn’t given up completely and was still holding strong, her gaze stubborn and unyielding.
Lance’s abrupt words snapped the woman back to reality. She realized this man had taken control of the entire hall in a short ti, and she herself had been unwittingly drawn in.
In fact, the sa confusion York felt also churned within her; this stranger was utterly mystifying.
Even though she knew there might be issues with Lance’s identity, she clearly recognized it as an opportunity—a chance to stabilize the rchant group. No matter his background, he was clearly opposed to York.
In any case, she was prepared for the dissolution of the group. She would not let these n benefit, even if she had to hand over the rchant group to soone else.
From the woman’s account, Lance quickly grasped the situation. Walter’s disappearance had triggered a series of problems. The harsh external environnt made the caravans immobile. Ultimately, these issues led to the rchant group’s struggles, prompting York to seek outside help and incite others to stage a coup.
"Who told you Walter is dead?" Lance asked with an amused expression, capturing the attention of all the rchant group mbers present.
"Father!" The woman imdiately latched onto the topic, urgently inquiring, "What about my father? Is he alright?"
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"What are you talking about? He’s perfectly fine. He hasn’t co back because he’s dealing with a big business deal and is too busy, so he sent to handle the rchant group’s affairs."
Lance chuckled mockingly, not expecting to provoke York’s questions.
"Impossible! The routes to Hamlet have long been blocked by bandits. Besides, if Walter were alive, why hasn’t he returned?"
If Walter weren’t dead, York’s pretext for betrayal would vanish completely. His final pretense would be stripped away, leaving him exposed as a pathetic clown.
York’s brain raced, almost overheating, as he scrambled for an explanation. Suddenly, as if he’d found one, he burst out laughing.
"HA HA HA! You’re just so actor she hired! You almost had fooled."
That explained it! He knew every detail of the rchant group’s affairs. How could so unknown person just pop up out of nowhere?
Right! He must be so pretty boy that bitch found sowhere. I almost got duped myself!
Realizing this, York imdiately straightened up, his manner becoming brazen.
"I don’t need your belief~" Lance sneered contemptuously. He never relied on pointless talk, but on strength.
"But your betrayal of the rchant group is a fact. Did Walter treat you poorly?"
Lance asked with interest, hardly expecting York to show no guilt whatsoever. Instead, York brazenly said:
"I’m trying to save everyone! If things go on like this, the rchant group will definitely disband. All she has to do is marry that person to save us all. Why can’t she make a small sacrifice? Does she want to drag everyone to their graves with her?!"
"HA HA HA!" Lance was amused. Even now, this guy was still trying to argue his way out. To make betrayal and seeking personal gain by selling out one’s benefactor sound so noble was truly a talent.
"Why don’t you just tell how much that guy nad Gene paid you?"
Lance’s scornful gaze ignited a wicked fire in York’s heart. He hated being looked down upon more than anything!
"Hmph! It’s no use talking anymore. Even if that old man Walter isn’t dead, do you really think you can conjure up food? The warehouse is empty. If you can’t deliver the goods, you’re finished either way. Right now, no one but can save everyone."
Lance’s expression seed sowhat odd as he spoke slowly, "How do you know I wasn’t bringing grain this ti?"
York’s head shot up. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a mocking sneer. He couldn’t help but burst into loud laughter, adopting a condescending, preachy tone.
"HA HA HA! You fool! The outside is swarming with bandits. Where could you possibly transport grain from? If you’re going to lie, at least say the grain is on its way!"
As expected, everyone reacted. York’s followers laughed, while Walter’s daughter frowned slightly at Lance’s words.
"Let’s go and see then~"
Lance strode out, and everyone subconsciously followed. However, once they were outside the hall, they found themselves on an empty plot of land with no sign of grain.
"Where’s the grain?" York’s face bore an irrepressible smirk, his smug satisfaction utterly undisguised.
Lance wasn’t annoyed. He watched York’s performance with a smile. Only after York had finished did he casually point to soone standing near Walter’s daughter.
"You, go open the gate and arrange for the convoy to co in."
The indicated man glanced involuntarily at the young lady. Walter’s daughter said nothing, rely nodding, but her still-furrowed brow made it clear she didn’t believe it either.
It wasn’t long before the man hurried back, shouting as he ran.
"Grain! Grain!"
"No grain, right?~" York, composed and confident, didn’t even bother to look back at the man who dashed in.
"No! It’s carts full of grain! We’re saved this ti!"
These words instantly grabbed everyone’s attention. Surprise and disbelief showed on all their faces.
York exploded like a lit firecracker. His first reaction was disbelief. "You’re lying! Do you really think you can deceive us with such a simple trick?"
Just as he finished speaking, those who had stepped outside saw a line of wagons rolling in, each piled high with sacks like small hills. And it seed the convoy stretched on, with more wagons continuously arriving.
"You lot, go and unload a bag," Lance said, this ti pointing towards those behind York.
Before anyone could react, York himself rushed forward. He snatched a bag from a wagon, tore it open, and plunged his hand inside, pulling out handfuls of plump, full grains.
"Impossible... This is absolutely impossible..." York stamred, watching the grains slip through his fingers, his face a mask of disbelief.
Didn’t this an all his efforts over this period had been for naught?
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