The Lord Of Blood Hill Chapter 94: Finally Able to Chat

With the ceremony concluded, Henwell stands quietly in the corner of the grand hall. Many are curious about the young knight lord's appearance beneath his scarred helt. Henwell’s mind is a whirlwind of emotions. How many years has it been? He’s finally beco a noble, with a hereditary title!

He can’t even recall how many people have tried to kill him or how many he’s had to kill in pursuit of this goal. He never expected Grand Duke Amir to actually grant him the position of a knight lord. This isn’t just a baronial title from Baron Jansen; it’s a duchy title. Technically, his loyalty is required only to the Grand Duke, not Baron Jansen.

Moreover, he now has a knight's fief in Peace Haven, where he can establish a knightly estate. The territory is close to the large warehouse district he built, which will also fall under his jurisdiction. A thirty-square-kiloter estate is quite rare for a knightly title.

Henwell is surprised that wearing his battle-worn armor led to such an outco. Even with Earl Marcus’s endorsent, he feels the Grand Duke has been overly generous. Initially, he intended to play the sympathy card, hoping for a sweet “candy“. Instead, the Grand Duke served him a full banquet.

While Henwell is delighted and surprised, he also wonders if he’s unwittingly stepped into yet another big trap!

Just as Henwell remains on high alert, the long-dormant "Golden Finger"—the chat group for struggling transmigrators—finally responds. Or rather, he receives a private ssage from the system.

"User status transformation achieved: Escaped slave status, left commoner class, and beca a junior leader."

"Identification complete. User now has speaking privileges, based on managed population, land area, influence, and military strength..."

"Overall assessnt: User is granted three speaking opportunities per day!"

"File transfer function activated, limited to 3MB once per month!"

Henwell is baffled. Damn! This chat group discriminates against the lower classes? So, he couldn’t speak previously because his status was too low?

Checking the chat group’s history, Henwell notices that those who can speak are indeed of high status. It seems like the other dozen or so silent mbers are likely in similar or worse situations than he was.

After exploring a bit more and finding no additional features, Henwell realizes that, for now, he can only chat, and even that is limited to three ssages a day.

After pondering for a while, Henwell composes a ssage in his mind and sends it out: "Hello, everyone! I can finally speak now. I envy you all for being in familiar cultural circles. It seems like I've ended up in a dieval world, and it's hardly a place for anyone to live."

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After a brief silence, the chat group bursts into activity.

"Hey! A newcor! You've been lurking for so long, why show up today? Finally turned five? Able to speak now?"

"Wow! Bro, you're quite stylish! Henwell, you're really making waves!"

"Damn! dieval tis, huh? I'd love to go there. If only we could switch places! I heard it's pretty liberal over there. Do nobles really have the right of the first night?"

"Buddy, tell us about your 'battles' with dieval won. A friend of mine is very curious and wants detailed stories!"

"Hey, man! How co you have a prefix? How did you get it? 'Thousand Slayer'! Sounds like you're quite experienced!"

"Brother! Please tell the whole story, especially the details!"

Henwell notices, for the first ti, that there's a "Thousand Slayer" badge next to his na. He quickly realizes why.

"Uh! It's not what you think. Those aren't won I've been with; I'm still a chaste young man! It's about the number of people I've killed. I achieved a milestone for killing a thousand people. Apparently, it only counts if they're killed in combat, not defenseless ones. So, if you're looking to gain experience, it might not be feasible!"

After another mont of silence, the chat explodes with chaotic ssages.

"Holy crap! Are you serious? You killed a thousand people? A thousand? How did you manage that?"

"Wow! Is there no law where you are? Were you a psychotic killer before?"

"Impressive, man! What were you in your past life? An elite soldier? A top rcenary? Or a cold-blooded assassin?"

"Co on! Stand tall, let bow to you!"

Henwell thinks for a mont and writes one last ssage: "I've got so intel to share. This group is defined by status. Those who can't speak are likely in special situations and haven't t the criteria. Here's what I've figured out; use it as a reference..."

After listening to Henwell's explanation, everyone realizes the challenges he faced and starts plotting their own paths forward. Princes consider how to seize power, minister's offspring think about climbing the ranks, and general's heirs contemplate rebellion.

As for those who can't speak, Henwell advises either finding a powerful ally or staging a rebellion to get noticed...

Chatting with people who share his background or language brings Henwell a sense of relief, making his steps lighter and more carefree.

To outsiders, it might seem like Henwell is simply happy about receiving so kind of reward. In this frustrating world, having such a chat group provides him with much-needed solace, making him feel less alone. Though he can't return to his forr life, this group offers a connection to his past.

For Henwell, the chat group serves as a refuge for his soul. He can share any secret without fearing betrayal from its mbers.

Henwell returns to the royal estate to prepare for his journey back. With the Midsumr Festival ending tomorrow, he needs to head back to Peace Haven. There, he'll take over his territory and plan its developnt. There's a lot on his plate, and the current splendor isn't his reality. The chaos in Peace Haven is where he truly belongs.

As Henwell lies in bed, planning his future, lissa is in a manor outside the city, curiously asking her brother about Henwell's activities.

Upon hearing the details, she feels an unexpected joy. Back in her room, she finds herself fiddling with a small cat statue, lost in thought. She had initially dismissed the statue, handing it off to a maid, only to retrieve it that very night.

When she learned that Henwell left without a word, lissa was upset and tossed the statue aside. But upon discovering that it was her father who drove him away, she retrieved it again. She had hoped to see Henwell during the Midsumr Festival and hear his intriguing stories. But Count Marcus had ensured she couldn't et Henwell, even preventing her from staying in the capital.

Now, lissa is unaware that Henwell is returning to his land, and it might be a long ti before they et again.