The old man only found a similar feeling in the dwarves' hamrs, but those drunkards who buried their noses in their beards haven't co for a long ti. Their king doesn't want to get involved in the human disputes.
"Young man... you better leave, this is not a place you should co..." The old man gasped lightly, warning with a voice as weak as a mosquito's, "Don't think I'm trying to scare you... There's no food, you better go sowhere else..."
He seed to forget who gave him the bread he just ate.
The man didn't care, after retrieving his kettle, he spoke softly.
"What happened here?"
Terror rose in the old man's eyes, his lips trembled as if he wanted to speak, but seed to have exhausted his strength.
The man waited for a while, seeing the old man give no answer, he didn't press further.
He left a piece of bread tucked under the arm of the poor soul and then silently got up and left.
The dust-covered robe swept over the desolate street, he walked with heavy steps, heading towards the center of the town.
Vaguely rembering, there was a church there, perhaps the priests here would know sothing.
Along the way, the hungry refugees saw this uninvited guest, hiding in the shadows like startled rabbits. So had already lost the strength to move, rely staring at him with numb eyes, unsure whether they were praying for redemption or for that sword to give them swift relief.
The air in the town was suffused with the sll of blood and rot, on either side of the road were corpses impaled by long spears, left for the vultures to feast.
Not just vultures.
But also those who have no choice but to disregard everything else just to survive.
The closer the man got, the heavier his expression beca, suppressing an anger on his face that was as resolute as Brass Pass, invisible to others.
He hadn't been to Hell.
But he believed hell would be no different.
Finally, he found the church from his mory, yet was unable to walk inside.
Only to see at the church's entrance, a hill of skulls and bones stood prominently.
Among them were priests, but clearly not only priests, the vast majority were civilians tied to the church by a myriad of threads, or even rely suspected of having ties.
Flies buzzed around their skulls, maggots bred on their corpses, as if all this were sacrifices offered to the evil spirit.
The man carrying the great sword stood in silence for a long ti, drawing a cross on his chest.
"...It's sacrilege." He squeezed out the words from his mouth, devoid of emotion yet still with a hint of trembling.
It wasn't out of fear.
But anger.
Even though he was unlike most Luo De people, not considered a devout follower, believing more in the sword in his hand rather than the lofty divine... but he was human after all.
And those who enjoy killing clearly could no longer be called human.
He stepped forward and saw the corpse of a nun who had yet to rest in peace, her wide-open eyes frozen with fear in her final monts.
A long spear pierced through her body, allowing her to remain standing facing the statue even in death. Her eyes were gouged out, and it seed a head was stuffed into her swollen abdon... one could imagine what treatnt she suffered before her death.
He rembered her na, seed to be Lily, a common na in the Ryan Kingdom, especially among the orphans taken in by the church. When he passed through this town heading to Brass Pass to counter the chaos threat, she had offered him a glass of water, trying to convey the Truth from the Holy Word Book, guiding him amidst his confusion.
He had joked back then about being a Luo De person, knowing more about the contents of the Holy Word Book than the Imperial people, teasing her about a re intern nun trying to guide him being too naive.
At that ti, she was sowhat unconvinced, saying she would definitely study the doctrine diligently, and next ti he passes through here, she would surely let him feel the Truth hidden within the Holy Light.
Unexpectedly, when they t again, her soul had already followed Saint Sis...
The man remained silent, stretching out his rough hand, gently closing her eyelids.
At that mont, a pitch-black breath like an arrow dug into his palm.
That was chaos power!
To keep the abundant sacrifices rotting and to prevent the offerings to the evil spirit from being devoured completely by the hungry refugees and vultures!
Yet the power was still too weak, shattering into fragnts upon contact with him.
His expression remained unchanged, as though he had rely crushed an ant with no sense of sight.
The surrounding refugees didn't know what had happened, only saw this outsider daring to pray for the priests, scattering in terror, fleeing in a panic.
Even those who were already breathless did the sa.
Before long, a patrol of soldiers discovered the scene.
They wore green turbans on their heads, their faces filled with nacing arrogance, unable to be more satisfied with this "wine pool at forest" paradise, genuinely believing it to be an excellent offering to those who whisper in darkness.
And the joyful divine spirit granted them victory after victory as the most direct proof!
Soon they noticed the "fly" perched on the offering, promptly surrounding it arrogantly.
"Hey! What are you doing there!"
The leading soldier pointed a firearm at the man with the great sword, a cruel smile on his face, "What? Planning to collect corpses for Saint Sis' dogs?"
The man with the great sword hadn't replied when the soldier next to him wearing a green turban grinned and said.
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