Our Family Has Fallen-Chapter 666 - 397: The Sleeping Dragon Arises_1

Things quickly calmed down. Around a dozen people were dragged out from the crowd, their bruised and swollen faces indicating they had taken quite a beating.

"Take your things and get lost," Lance glanced at these men and said indifferently.

What else could they do? They could only slink away, while the hidden hatred in their eyes seemed so ridiculous, it scarcely piqued Lance’s interest.

"Hamlet does not welcome those who have lost their humanity and can no longer be called human. However, ordinary people can obtain food and money here with their diligent hands. Our army will also protect your safety, and you will no longer need to worry about bandits..."

Lance began an impromptu speech before the refugees. He clearly had no intention of extending the scope of this "trial," as his goal had already been achieved.

He had suppressed and divided these men, established his authority, diverted the conflict, and taught them a vivid lesson.

"Alright, let’s distribute porridge first. Everyone can register after eating."

Lance finished his brief announcement, and his final words brought the atmosphere to a peak.

What were these refugees here for? Weren’t they just seeking a bite to eat and safety?

"Thank you, My Lord!"

Someone spoke up, and similar cries rose sporadically. But Lance simply waved his hand to signal for the porridge to be served.

Baldwin was a good man, but the patients around him were not necessarily so. They were tormented by their illness and also had to endure the discrimination and insults of others. Although they had long been numb, today’s events had deeply affected them.

It had to be said, Lance’s actions fostered goodwill in them, for they felt a respect they hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Baldwin did not say anything about it, but his own numbed heart was stirred.

After dealing with these refugees, Lance quickly discussed their resettlement with Baldwin.

Leprosy was, after all, a contagious disease, so their resettlement had to be handled carefully. Lance could not be foolish enough to allow them to wander freely around Hamlet; that would be irresponsible towards the other residents.

He wasn’t a doctor. He only recalled playing a virus-themed game once and vaguely remembered that leprosy seemed to be transmitted through airborne droplets from the mouth and nose, as well as through prolonged, close physical contact.

Therefore, the key was to isolate them outside the main settlement. Lance planned to build a quarantine camp on an open plot of land in the outskirts; two or three tents would suffice for the dozen or so people.

He then explained to Baldwin Hamlet’s research on plagues, promoting those cleaning and preventative measures. For instance, clothes and belongings they had used needed to be sterilized with boiling water and then exposed to the scorching sun. He also stressed maintaining hygiene, boiling water before drinking, and properly disposing of excrement...

A group of refugees staggered along the old road. These were the very people who had just been driven out of Hamlet.

Before Lance and those fierce overseers, they hadn’t dared to resist. Now, however, they made no effort to hide their ferocious expressions and malicious thoughts.

"They will surely be Cursed! When that time comes, they’re as good as dead."

"Exactly! Those are Curses, divine retribution! The gods will surely bring judgment upon the evil Nobility!"

"Those damn people will be killed by the plague, and we have escaped."

Amidst the vicious Curses, interspersed with words of self-deception, a voice suddenly cried out.

"Do you guys have any food? I can barely hold on."

The group of more than ten people fell silent. They hadn’t eaten in days. They had survived on wild grasses and berries during their journey. But now, though food had been right before them moments ago, it was utterly out of their reach.

"Damn it! Come with me to the mountains and we’ll become bandits! Then we’ll eat our fill!"

One man viciously pulled out a knife that resembled a mere shard of iron. But just as he finished speaking, he screamed without warning.

"AH!"

He cried out, thrashing wildly as if wrestling with something unseen. To the others, however, he merely looked like he was going mad.

Within seconds, his neck snapped, and he collapsed limply to the ground. In a place invisible to ordinary eyes, a Ghost Wolf was tearing at the man’s tattered soul before devouring it.

This bizarre scene left the others momentarily bewildered, as the man who had died so suddenly bore no visible wounds.

For ordinary people of this era, such an event was incomprehensible. It wasn’t until this situation began to spread, with individuals collapsing and dying suddenly one after another without any warning, that the others finally realized what was happening.

"AH! Demons!"

"God, have you abandoned me?"

"Oh, Holy Light!"

The men scattered, fleeing in all directions, but how could they possibly escape the claws of the Void Hunter...?

Meanwhile, Lance had already arranged for the construction of the camp. It was a simple process: hammering wooden stakes into the ground and stretching fabric over them to create tents.

He left them with sufficient supplies, temporarily isolating Baldwin and his group on the open land in the outskirts, and instructed everyone else to keep their distance.

After completing these tasks, Lance suddenly seemed to sense something and turned his gaze nearby.

"Divine punishment?" Lance murmured softly, his hand stroking the air. "Now *this* is what you call divine punishment..."

He wasn’t one to hold grudges overnight, primarily because he usually didn’t let his enemies live to see the morning.

Either do nothing, or see it through to the absolute end. That was his creed: if he said he would exterminate your entire family, he would do so without fail.

It was just that, with so many people watching, some things couldn’t be done too overtly.