Strangely, none of these individuals fled; instead, they kept rushing forward to attack the trio.
Yet, Boudica and the others couldn’t use their weapons. No matter how strong one’s individual strength was, when facing a mob, one’s fists were no match for so many hands.
What was more troubleso was that the bodies of these followers wouldn’t fall from ordinary wounds; they struggled to stand back up.
Lance was ruthless; he didn’t wait for the enemies to approach but attacked them directly, sacrificing them the mont they died.
However, Boudica and her companions were constrained. The sheer number of enemies swarming them left almost no room to even swing their fists, nearly trapping them in peril.
"Receive the punishnt of the Holy Fla!"
A voice full of anger rang out. In the darkness of the night, a flash of light suddenly struck one of the followers attacking Boudica. Divine Arts could heal injuries, but they could also bring retribution to the enemy.
The potent holy power flooded into their bodies, almost burning their brains dry, causing them to collapse on the spot.
"Divine Arts."
"People from the Church."
"Kill her!"
The chaotic battlefield montarily stilled. In the next second, for so unknown reason, a portion of the followers split off to attack Junia, looking as if they harbored a deep-seated hatred for her.
It had to be said, the Church was adept at drawing fire, and this unexpected turn significantly lightened the pressure on Boudica and Geralt.
Facing the enemies charging at her, Junia knew there were limits to Divine Arts and had already lifted her mace, ready to fight.
But once they left the range of the ritual, an even more brutal death awaited them.
At that mont, Wang Cai, who had been waiting in the darkness for a long ti, extended sharp claws...
The battle began abruptly and ended just as quickly. Their resistance seed feeble against the three ferocious fighters, leaving only wailing followers strewn across the area.
Taking on ten enemies at once might seem unbelievable, but in reality, Lance didn’t even need a second to slay one person—such was Supernatural Power.
Many were critically wounded. Lance gestured for his two companions to quickly drag the injured out of the ritual site, while he imdiately sacrificed those who had already died.
After all, it was still a battle; no one dared hold back, so a few deaths were inevitable.
To figure out what was happening here, they needed to start with those who were still alive. Thus, Lance focused his attention on the crippled followers.
Since Dismas wasn’t there, he had to handle it himself.
"Speak. Where are the rest of your people?" Lance demanded, stepping on one follower’s hand.
But what he received in return was not a scream. Instead, it was manic laughter and a string of brainwashed phrases from the Sect of Ascension.
"Damned blaspher!" Junia gritted her teeth in hatred nearby, raising her mace to strike him.
But Lance stopped her with a raised hand. "There’s no need. He won’t feel any pain if you hit him."
He had wiped out camps before. Usually, most followers would collapse easily, with only a few being true hardliners.
Now, seeing their reaction, Lance understood. Those left behind were not re casual followers but Fanatics whose bodies had been transford by multiple Flesh Rites.
For them, pain had been twisted into pleasure, and they feared death even less.
Regardless, these were all cultivated individuals, discarded here as bait and sacrifices.
The Old Ancestor is truly heartless...
Unless absolutely necessary, Lance disliked torturing people. And since these creatures, who could hardly be called human anymore, already had their minds broken, there was no point in torturing them for information.
With a cold expression, Lance drew a Dagger, inserted it into an eye socket, and stirred the brain matter. Blood stread down the laughing face, and before it could even drip to the ground, Lance sacrificed the follower.
Yet he didn’t stop there. He calmly executed the remaining followers one by one, as if mowing grass.
The Void Devourer swallowed everything, but even it couldn’t hide the disturbed expressions in Geralt’s and Junia’s eyes.
Neither of them said anything. Geralt’s reaction was relatively normal; he was always cautious with his words and wouldn’t overtly express his opinions, even if he had them.
But Junia is usually so forthright, Lance wondered. Why is she acting this way too?
Lance, however, didn’t pay them much mind. He simply wiped the filth off his Dagger and offered a brief explanation.
"Do you know why these people dislike armor and rush headlong at enemies? It’s because they seek pain; they pursue death.
In their eyes, death is rely a part of Ascension. Their deaths, their Flesh, will feed that terrifying Evil God. That’s why we need to dispose of the bodies."
Lance divulged a little information about the Sect of Ascension. This wasn’t much of a secret; they would inevitably learn about it as long as they remained active in Hamlet.
"The Lord has been combating them for so long; you’re more aware of the thods of these Heretics. Let’s rescue these ordinary people first," Geralt said, changing the subject and effectively glossing over the eerie scene they had just witnessed.
Lance turned his head to look at the ordinary people tied up at the side.
He wasn’t lying, Lance thought. He had indeed co to rescue these ordinary people, as they were the most valuable clues.
However, after Geralt went over to check, he frowned and shook his head at the others.
"Dead. They must have been killed in so kind of mysterious ritual; all the blood in their bodies has disappeared."
In the pitch-darkness earlier, no one knew if they were still alive. This information rendered Lance sowhat speechless. It seems the Old Ancestor left nothing for , he thought.
Just as Lance was processing this, a noise from the side drew his attention. Looking over, he saw that Wang Cai had, at so point, wandered into the camp and was now growling at a tent.
"Let’s go! See what Wang Cai has found!"
Lance called out and headed over. The re sound of their approaching footsteps caused suppressed sobs and chaotic, heavy breathing to emanate from the tent.
They weren’t overjoyed by this discovery. Instead, they cautiously surrounded the tent.
"Six of them," Geralt whispered, shaking his head. "Judging by their short, sharp breaths, they aren’t those Heretics." Relying on his Abilities, he could roughly judge their number just from the sound of their breathing, and he softly warned Lance and the others.
"Cut open the tent."
Lance gestured for Boudica to act while he picked up a nearby torch and approached.
Boudica swung her War Halberd and slashed open the tent fabric. Instantly, a cacophony of shouts erupted.
"Oh, Holy Light, save ...!"
"I don’t want to die yet...!"
"I don’t taste good!"
"Hahaha!" Lance couldn’t help laughing when he saw their state. This group must be the refugees Geralt ntioned. It seems the Old Ancestor didn’t take them away, which ans my gamble paid off.
Seeing a figure holding a torch laugh madly at them, how could they possibly remain calm?
Especially when they saw Lance walking towards them, they thought he was coming to execute them. They imdiately panicked and scread in terror. In their eyes, Lance and his companions were now even more terrifying than the Heretics.
"Don’t co any closer!"
Amidst their wails, Lance explained with a laugh, "We’re not those Heretics. You’ve been saved."
This declaration didn’t calm them. Lance, not bothering with pleasantries, went up and slapped each one, as if to see if that would stop their hysterics.
As expected, words were useless; only fists could make them understand.
"We’re here to rescue you! All the Heretics have run off. Now, tell us imdiately how you got here and what you’ve experienced!"
Lance’s stern deanor finally cald them down. When they heard they were saved, they still looked sowhat incredulous.
"Look for yourselves. Do you see any of those people around here now?" Lance swept the torch in front of them. They could only see the slightly disordered campsite, now devoid of those Heretics who disliked wearing clothes.
Saved. The word itself was simple, but for these people, it ant everything. At that mont, they broke down and cried.
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