Who knows who will move in here tomorrow... Lance sighed as he looked around the shabby but historically tinged place.
But in reality, he had already activated his Spiritual Vision and started searching the room, quickly digging out all the gang leader’s savings.
He hadn’t expected such a haul. A re faction leader had over a hundred Gold Coins in savings. This seed to justify Totnes’s reputation as a city of wealth.
How did a grain rchant get involved with a human trafficking gang? Lance grumbled, and Dismas picked up the thread.
"I’ve followed him for a few days; this guy’s business isn’t just about grain."
"He’s just a small-ti rchant in Totnes," Lance added. He had a rough understanding of the rchant’s level from Tiffany.
The Walter Conglorate wasn’t large enough to find truly impressive channels, and the contacts it could arrange were only diocre. If he were soone more significant, Lance wouldn’t dare choose him as a target.
This wasn’t about bullying the weak and fearing the strong, but about being wise to the tis.
"Let’s go, we have a busy night ahead of us." Lance casually threw everything into the Exhibition Room. This bit of money no longer gave him much of a sense of achievent.
Although a city wall separates the Central City District from the Outer City, there are actually no restrictions on entry and exit, even at night. For the sake of comrcial circulation, it is left completely open.
But the Upper City District is different. The city gates are sealed, and only those qualified may enter. Many natives of Totnes might go their whole lives without ever knowing what it’s like there.
Even living there is difficult. Not even Captain Barton has the right to reside in the Upper City District, so how could these small rchants?
However, within the Central City District, there is also a wealthy residential area. Owning a single-family ho here ant shelling out millions in Gold Coins.
Late at night, the two, wearing different disguises, arrived in a residential area of the Central City District.
Money grants special privileges, especially in this money-driven city. The security environnt here was unusually good: candles burned continuously on the streets, and sheriffs patrolled frequently day and night. Should any trouble arise, a bit of commotion would imdiately bring a sheriff running.
The difficulty of committing a cri here was high, and one had to be prepared for failure.
But this still didn’t stop so extrely brazen individuals...
"I’ve figured out their patrol pattern. In a little while, the two patrols responsible for this area will be out of sync. We’ll have about a five-minute gap, and we can bypass them from this side..."
Darkness is the best Sanctuary, and Dismas, true to his profession, easily led Lance into the grain rchant’s residence.
It wasn’t even a mansion, just a one or two-story detached house without even a front or back garden. Its size couldn’t even compare to Mayor Hamlet’s ho.
Lance jimmied open the window and dropped in the Incense Burner lit with srizing Fragrance, quickly gaining complete control over the people inside.
Once inside, Lance imdiately lit a candlestick and wandered around, looking for possible places to hide money.
It wasn’t until he entered the bedroom and saw the person on the bed that Lance’s hand subconsciously switched to a Short Sword. Dismas, however, reminded him in a low voice at that mont.
"My lord... it’s a child..."
Lance lifted the candlestick forward and finally saw a two or three-year-old child sleeping peacefully in the bed.
For the great plan, any sacrifice is worth it. Have you forgotten about those who were trafficked by them? These people are hardly good people.
Lance felt no psychological burden; if you enjoy the benefits, you must bear the corresponding responsibility.
To him, adults and children were just bundles of Spiritual Essence.
Although Dismas didn’t say it outright, it was clear that he was reluctant to harm the child. The pressure showed on his face, revealing a trace of gravity.
At that mont, Lance seed to realize sothing. What exactly was he doing?
"Alright," Lance said wordlessly, putting away his Short Sword. "We’re only after the money."
The pressure on Dismas eased, and his expression was no longer conflicted as he began to search for hidden compartnts.
Totnes had banks, but most people still preferred to keep their money at ho for simple reasons: imperfect systems, anti-counterfeiting issues, and circulation problems.
Firstly, rchants traveling from all over the world didn’t recognize the local banks because they couldn’t withdraw money from them in their own countries.
Even within the Empire, without efficient information exchange technologies, it would be difficult to exchange currency easily outside of Totnes.
Only Gold Coins were universally recognized as equivalent value.
Under the effects of the srizing Fragrance, they subdued everyone without any trouble.
Indeed, these Rich rchants were wealthy. Damn it, Walter had only scraped together twenty thousand Gold Coins. But this guy’s secret chamber held nearly one hundred thousand in cash! Not to ntion the antiques and art pieces, which, all told, damn it, amounted to no less than two or three hundred thousand.
This haul made Lance’s breathing quicken. At last, the gaping hole from his recent expenditures was filled.
A few more houses like this, and there won’t be any more chances like it in the future.
Lance was well aware that, after tomorrow, everyone would certainly beef up their security, or even deposit their wealth in the bank.
So, it was all or nothing, go big or go ho!
Moreover, since no one had died, if only this one rchant was robbed, any investigation would surely trace back to him. He had to muddle the waters.
To Dismas, it naturally didn’t matter; everything was for the great plan.
"Take it, and don’t let the little lady swipe it all," Lance tossed a purse to Dismas, teasing him with a chuckle.
Dismas could only laugh awkwardly, grabbing the money and slipping away; everyone knew where he was going.
Watching Dismas’s carefree departure, however, Lance’s brow slowly furrowed.
That scene just now... What the hell was I doing?
I wouldn’t normally be so intent on killing, especially not a child who was completely unaware...
Lance turned and wandered the streets, his thoughts seemingly racing back to the mont spent sprinting down the old road.
Ambushes on the old road, recovering Hamlet Town, exterminating bandits, thwarting the evil cult’s conspiracies... He then realized that in just a short month, so much had happened.
Pressed forward by overwhelming pressure to survive in this world, he had cast aside far too much. This applied to both his past life and his current one. The kind-hearted Lance had long since perished on that old road, his body and will now controlled by a despair so potent it was suffocating.
Yet, within this despair, his will hadn’t been destroyed or tornted. Neither had he discovered virtue. Instead, he had entered a deford state.
Under stress that would have driven a normal person mad, he remained rational. He unleashed an unprecedented level of initiative and directly rescued the town on the brink of collapse.
But what was the cost?
He was forced to abandon his humanity and lose himself. His mind’s logic focused everything on the ultimate goal of exterminating the Lord, and he functioned like a machine geared solely to achieve the optimal solution.
He knew all too well that when facing those hundred thousand refugees, he had, more than once, thought of making up excuses to hunt and Sacrifice them.
He had already done so once outside Ovando City, killing hundreds of refugees in the na of judgnt. Even if they were guilty, their cris were certainly not punishable by death.
Why did I harbor such a strong desire to kill?
Because in his eyes, people were no longer people. Their age or gender didn’t matter. They were rely sacrificial offerings, stepping stones for him to gain power.
He felt no sense of security in this world; only the constantly increasing power brought him any solace.
Yet, unexpectedly, it was Dismas, the robber, who taught him a lesson.
They are people.
And I, too, am a person, not that dumbass Lord.
All along the way, it wasn’t just him on his own. During the process, Dismas, Reynard, Balistan, those townspeople, those refugees—each and every one of them rallied around him. But for what?
A hollow savior story? Give a break. All these people are survivors of harsh realities; how could they blindly believe a story I pulled out of thin air?
What truly moved them was reality, the fact that Lance had always been moving in this direction.
They saw in this lone hero, carrying the world on his shoulders, a hope for redemption.
The common folk saw in their Lord a hope for life.
It turned out I was hope.
Lance suddenly smirked to himself. He provided them with hope, but hadn’t they also given him hope?
We shall all find redemption in the end...
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