School Transmigration: I, Chosen as the Saint by Dragons at the Start-Chapter 220 --Execution

"Could you read his memories? I want to see what evil deeds he has committed."

"I’ll give it a try."

Owen didn’t recall possessing the ability to read others’ memories, but he found himself instinctively agreeing.

Was it because of Rose?

He wasn’t sure.

He impaled Sion against the wall with Ice through his left shoulder, effectively pinning him and simultaneously slowing the bleeding from his left hand.

Then, placing his index finger on Sion’s forehead, Owen concentrated, directing his arcanergy to his fingertip.

After five minutes, he felt a shift in the arcanergy at his fingertip.

Simultaneously, Sion’s memories flooded his mind, causing a wave of dizziness, nearly toppling him to the ground.

"Are you alright, young master?"

Rose was prepared, steadying him as he swayed.

"I’m fine." Owen sifted through Sion’s memories, uttering only those two words.

In a few minutes, his grip tightened, nails digging into his flesh, drawing blood.

This was the first time he had been injured in his journey.

"What happened?" Rose quickly retrieved a healing ointment from her bosom, sprinkling it on Owen and gently blowing over it to spread the remedy.

Looking at Sion, Owen remarked, "Truly a monster, not even sparing his own mother."

"What? What did this pervert do?"

"You’re better off not knowing."

After a moment of thought, Owen said to Rose, "You should go. Whether back to the tavern or to watch the afternoon matches, as you wish."

"And you?"

"I have some things to take care of. Don’t ask what they are."

"Alright." Rose leaned into Owen’s embrace and said, "Is your mind still in order? Don’t let what this man has done affect you, making your own mind troubled."

With that, Rose left the dreadful place.

Owen watched Rose’s retreating figure, internally questioning if perhaps her mind was also not in the right place.

Her indifference towards life and death, and all matters gruesome, seemed too detached.

But then, considering everything that had happened along the way, was his own mind entirely normal?

And who, in this world, could claim their sanity was untouched?

Owen decided not to dwell on these thoughts.

He locked Sion in the inner room, fastening him with the leg irons used for tormenting women.

Then, finding a shovel hidden by Sion on the first floor, he proceeded to the backyard.

He cleared the trash aside and began to dig through the soil, shovel by shovel.

After an hour of continuous work, Owen carefully unearthed the buried skeletons.

Using Ice, he demolished nearly half of the old house, repurposing the wooden beams to construct simple coffins.

Finally, he placed Sion, still shackled, into one of the coffins and took a short rest on the steps. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Then, hoisting a coffin onto his back and summoning all his strength, Owen leapt onto the rooftop and dashed towards the abandoned house under Golden’s control, moving with utmost speed.

One by one, he transferred all the coffins to the yard of the derelict house, including Sion’s.

This time, he didn’t bother to be gentle, dropping Sion’s coffin heavily onto the ground.

Inside the storeroom, the limping caretaker sensed something amiss.

Hobbling outside, he first encountered the shattered coffin with Sion howling inside, and then noticed the coffins with exposed skeletons.

Disgust and rage welled up within him as he jabbed Sion several times with his cane.

He then returned inside to instruct one of Golden’s men to deliver the news to Golden.

Twenty minutes later, Golden arrived at the abandoned house.

He glanced at Sion, now missing his left hand and right arm, then turned his attention to the coffins and the skeletons within, pondering for a long while.

"How many skeletons are there?" he finally asked.

"There’s one in each coffin, eighteen in total," came the reply.

Golden pointed at Sion, who had his mouth gagged, and commanded, "Execute him. Stab him eighteen times."

"But, young city master, if we make any noise during the execution, we risk exposure."

"You know to call me young city master."

Golden said sternly, "As the young city master, I must punish such villains, regardless of the circumstances. How else could I face the city’s populace? We cannot act solely for vengeance, you understand?"

"Yes, I understand, young city master."

"Also, summon those who were to cover for me during the assassination. Have them remove these skeletons, replace the coffins with better ones, and re-bury them properly."

"Yes, as you command."

The limping man took two steps out, then turned back and asked, "The execution of this man..."

"I will do it myself."

"Yes."

The limper picked up a rusted iron box from a corner of the abandoned house, handed it to Golden, and then left to carry out his tasks.

The throwing knives inside the box were rusted, but Golden paid it no mind.

He tied Sion to a dead tree in the courtyard and casually threw the knives at him.

A total of twenty knives were thrown, stopping when only two remained.

Sion, barely clinging to life, gasped for breath for a quarter of an hour before his life of crime finally came to an end.

At this moment, Golden’s men returned to the abandoned house.

They divided the makeshift coffins into several groups and hauled them in different directions, eventually burying them on a hillside south of the city.

Sion’s body was taken down by the limper, who processed the corpse to ensure no one could identify it, and then had it discarded in the southern city’s sewage ditch.

Golden sat in the courtyard, talking to himself, "He must have known, and he even helped me. Yet, I have nothing with which to repay him..."

"He harbors justice in his heart; perhaps he seeks no recompense. As long as I can transform this city, giving over half of its impoverished population a chance at a better life."

"It’s good he’s not a bad person."

Golden stood up, ending his soliloquy.

He left the abandoned house to continue preparing for his plans.

Owen emerged from the shadows, his arcanergy flowing in and out of his palms.

Was he a good person?

Scenes from his journey flashed through his mind.

Suddenly, he realized that what he was manipulating in his hands couldn’t be called arcanergy, but something more advanced.

He didn’t understand why this realization came to him so suddenly, as if some knowledge had always been present in his mind.

Owen spent the afternoon of the next day in the southern part of the city, engaging in deeds he deemed unnecessary.

Therefore, he missed the afternoon’s selection matches.

According to Rose, there wasn’t much to see anyway.

The competition was slightly stronger, but only one person stood out.

Owen guessed that this individual was the one Golden considered a slight threat.

By the third day of the selection matches, it was Owen’s turn to compete.

The events of the previous day had led him to reconsider his perspectives.

Throughout his journey eastward, he had harbored a deep-seated belief that anyone who stood in his way deserved death, and he had no qualms about crushing any "ant" that irked him.

Now, however, he found himself devoid of any contempt for these so-called ants, even feeling a sense of identification with Golden.

Owen was in the first group, which consisted of nine people.

The third day’s selection was reserved for those who had registered in the northern part of the city, individuals with somewhat significant identities, and thus, the number of participants was relatively smaller.

According to the roster, there were a total of one hundred and nine contestants, divided into sixteen groups.

Each group would advance one person, averaging about eight people per group, with Owen’s group being the exception of nine.

The eight contestants besides Owen positioned themselves in the four cardinal directions, two on each side, while Owen stood at the very center of the square.

As the match began, the eight competitors experienced a momentary blur, unable to comprehend what had happened before they found themselves pushed out of the arena.

The duel concluded in less than half a minute.

Since it was the first match, the audience wasn’t large, and a deathly silence fell over both the spectators inside and those outside the arena.

In this silence, Owen slowly made his way back to the VIP seats.

The other competitors, with ashen faces, hoped they wouldn’t encounter him in subsequent matches.

Meanwhile, the audience, as if possessed, rushed towards the betting booths.

The odds for Owen clinching the final victory quickly rose to the top.

The following matches proceeded in an orderly fashion.

Owen had come to understand that the four threatening individuals from the north, mentioned by Golden, were all minions of the current city lord.

These four had not been placed in the same group, a detail evidently arranged by the nobles.

Although Golden had some connections in this competition, he wasn’t influential enough to force these four to confront each other early on.

The current city lord’s power, along with that of these four, was much stronger than Golden’s, who could only plot from the shadows.

Three out of these four had already advanced effortlessly.

Their hands were stained with blood; in the groups they competed in, no one else survived.

Now, the fourth individual was making his appearance.

This person, named Elvan, like Skes, Moxis, and Joel before him, was a lieutenant of the current city lord, Alisson.

These four also represented the interests of the city’s four major noble families.

With the first three having smoothly moved on to the next round, Elvan did not wish to falter here, as failure would result in a loss of face for his family among the other three.

As the match commenced, Elvan chose a corner on the west side, standing there to watch the other contestants engage in battle.

Three individuals clad in black, wielding knives, skirmished before him, but their exchanges were tentative, with no one yet willing to deliver a fatal blow.