Our Family Has Fallen-Chapter 663 - 395: Numb_2

Those people remained silent. Only the figure pulling the cart inadvertently stopped and directed a hoarse voice at the overseer.

"We're just passing through and won't stay long," the masked man said, producing a bag and spilling out a few copper coins. "We hope to rest briefly and trade for some salt and food."

If they encountered corpses along their journey, they would do their best to give them a simple burial. Most bodies had already been looted, but those who had died suddenly from disease were left untouched. From these, they sometimes managed to gather a few odds and ends.

In truth, they always maintained a distance from ordinary people without needing to be driven away. Yet, to survive, they required food and water and needed to trade for essential supplies.

"No, no! Leave at once."

The overseer gestured dismissively. While the copper coins might be worth the risk to others, they meant little to the people of Hamlet. No one wanted to trade with them.

"Begone, Demon!"

"It's all your fault the monsters have come!"

"You blasphemers, the Holy Light will not forgive you!"

Some among the refugees were desperate to curry favor with the overseers, hurling insults at the sick and urging them away to demonstrate their own loyalty.

And the loudest among them was, surprisingly, the same one who had earlier thrown stones. He had later been chased by the Heretics until he was a pathetic mess; if not for the masked man's intervention, he would have died by their hands.

But he showed no gratitude towards his rescuer, nor did he feel the slightest remorse for his actions. Instead, he was even more convinced that these people had attracted the monsters and caused his humiliation.

It was all their fault!

The crux of the matter was that many shared this way of thinking. Ashamed of their own incompetence and weakness, they blamed others for all their problems.

Previously, they hadn't dared to act, intimidated by the masked people's strength. But now, with others leading the charge, they openly vented their dissatisfaction, an emotion that had transformed into hatred.

Fortunately, most were ordinary people who remained silent, though their silence was just that—silence...

The bandaged people showed little reaction to this treatment, seemingly unsurprised by the scene. The masked man did not speak but slowly retracted his extended hand, carefully placing the few copper coins back into the bag with a trembling hand.

He turned back but did not draw his broken sword to unleash slaughter upon these ungrateful wretches. Instead, he pulled the cart around and silently headed back toward the old road.

The bandaged people at his side said nothing, merely following with unsteady steps.

The overseers sighed in relief, but the refugees seemed even more exultant, their faces beaming with pride like victorious generals.

"Those damned blasphemers are finally gone."

"They should have left long ago!"

...

"What happened?"

A challenging voice suddenly broke their "victorious" atmosphere. The overseers turned to see the Lord striding towards them.

Upon hearing Vick, Lance realized something was wrong. His greatest fear was that ordinary people, ignorant of how to respect the strong, might provoke them, leading to a massacre.

Yet when he arrived at the scene, there was some commotion, but no bloodshed.

Lance moved swiftly, covering the distance in a few strides. His gaze swept over the refugees. The intensity of this superior's stare was more than they could bear, and they all hung their heads, cowering.

His gaze then extended further, clearly spotting the staggering, unfortunate figures.

If it had been a group of ordinary sick people, Lance might have ignored them. Who in their right mind would bother with them? It would be better if they left.

However, as his gaze fell upon the person pulling the cart, Lance's expression grew solemn.

The spiritual aura emanating from that person unmistakably marked him as a powerful Transcendent, and his equipment was no ordinary gear.

At this moment, Vick caught up and whispered a reminder beside Lance.

"That's the one. He killed at least a dozen Heretics by himself."

On hearing this, Lance hesitated no more and strode towards them.

However, his action startled the overseers, who hurriedly stepped forward to try to stop Lance, positioning themselves between him and the sick.

"My Lord, do not approach them, or you will incur divine punishment!" one of the overseers cautioned.

"Sickness is just sickness! What divine punishment? It's nothing more than a tale concocted by the Church when their Divine Arts fail to cure," Lance rebuked harshly. He detested this kind of rhetoric from the Church.

This world had far too many peculiar diseases. While the Church's Divine Arts were effective for some, there were also cases where they failed.

If a disease wasn't contagious, they'd claim it was a test from the gods and encourage donations. Surviving meant you passed the test; dying meant it was your own failing.

As for contagious diseases, they'd claim the patient was suffering divine punishment, was Cursed, or possessed by Demons.

They'd confiscate your property and isolate you in a designated place, claiming sincere prayer would lead to a cure. In the end, no one knew what became of those who "prayed."

In short, the Church's rhetoric blamed everything on the patients. If their Divine Arts couldn't heal you, it was undoubtedly your fault.

Lance had studied this while working on healthcare reform, which was why he found these claims so repugnant.

But he knew his subordinates were only trying to stop him out of concern he might get infected. This softened his tone as he reassured them.

"You've done well to be cautious about infectious diseases. However, be more mindful of your methods next time. Leave the rest to me." Lance knew that changing their mindsets wouldn't happen overnight, so he shouldn't be too harsh on them.

Fortunately, the one they encountered today was a patient man; had they met someone with a slightly worse temper, they might have been cut down by a sword.

It wasn't that all powerful individuals had bad tempers, but strength often came with a certain pride. For ordinary people to dare treat them so disrespectfully was simply courting death. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

"Just let it go, My Lord. They're gone anyway," Vick couldn't help but advise.

Previously, Vick might have deeply believed in divine punishment and Curses. Now, he scoffed at such notions.

However, he was also worried about the Lord encountering trouble, so it seemed best to let the matter drop.

"Find out exactly what happened here. I'm going ahead with the doctor," Lance said, placing a hand on Vick's shoulder and gently pushing him back. Before Vick could question him, Lance strode forward.

His Trait, Natural Purification, made him immune to disease and poison. Grendel also had a special constitution and wasn't afraid of such things. Vick, however, was still an ordinary person.

Grendel seemed to sense Lance's intentions too and followed without hesitation.

"Wait!" Lance called out. The masked man stopped and turned to look back.

Their eyes met. Lance felt the eyes behind the mask seemed troubled, the gaze somewhat murky. The man's movements were also slightly uncoordinated. It was hard to believe this body had single-handedly slain more than a dozen Heretics.

Lance was quite curious to see a Transcendent reduced to such a state by illness and pain.

"Hello. I am the Lord of this place, and I apologize for my people's attitude toward you just now." Lance moved closer, but for some reason, this seemed to alarm the man.

"Stay back! The Curse will spread to you!"

To still be considerate of others after such treatment truly earned Lance's respect.

They bore such a heavy burden with grace and humility, enough to make even the healthy sigh with sorrow.

"I know it's contagious. But sickness is just sickness. There's no divine punishment, no Curse—just a contagious disease." Lance had no intention of stopping and continued his approach with determined strides.

The masked man's stiff reactions couldn't match Lance's pace. By the time he reacted, Lance was already standing before him.

Ordinary people avoided them like the plague, fearing the Curse. He hadn't expected anyone to actually dare approach them.

What stunned him even more was the next thing Lance said.

"I am Lance, Lord of Hamlet. In Hamlet, you will receive help!"