If Lance had nukes now, he'd have blasted the old ancestor long ago.

But now this sense of superiority is met with a heavy blow.

Because in his past life, where technology was so advanced, disease was still humanity's greatest threat.

A single virus could render humans powerless and plunge them into years of chaos.

And now, in a world reminiscent of the medieval age, described with words like ignorance and feudal, they have completed the "Panacea," so easily touching the ceiling of medical advancement.

It's like taking modern human superiority to a feudal village, only for the villagers to share nuclear technology with you.

No, even more exaggerated, the villagers share spacecraft engine technology.

That sense of defeat left Lance momentarily lost.

So should I still pursue modern medicine?

"What's wrong?" Grendel noticed Lance's odd behavior.

"We developed this Panacea, so most diseases will just be a matter of one or two injections, is what we're doing even necessary?"

Lance explained his concerns somewhat dejectedly, investing enormous resources, but the output couldn't compare to this, rendering it meaningless...

Grendel had never seen Lance so disheartened; after all, this man was the one who brutally defeated Warwolf, and yet now he showed such a stance over this matter.

However, these words did remind her, is it still necessary to invest resources in medical advancement if we've already achieved the pinnacle?

But Paracelsus seemed somewhat disdainful of this, tearing apart the odd atmosphere without reservation.

"Firstly, you don't understand the principles of these things, secondly, you don't have a stable source of materials, and thirdly, once the current materials are used up, even production becomes an issue.

Not to mention, even if the previous problems are solved, how much raw material can one monster provide? How many patients are there in this world? How many diseases? And what about the supernatural diseases?

It's safe to say ordinary people absolutely can't afford these medicines. The reason we developed medicine in the first place was so that ordinary people could have access to medical care, as you once told me."

"I was just expressing my feelings, reflecting my thoughts about the future, understand?"

Being exposed, Lance couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed, and his defensive look amused Grendel.

However, Paracelsus' words reminded him that the production of this thing is likely to not increase, much like the Church's Divine Arts, it's not something ordinary people can easily access.

Lance, a staunch realist and materialist, didn't fall into nihilism because of this. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Technology is not to blame, just like nuclear technology can create nuclear bombs for destruction, but can also build nuclear power plants for electricity.

The old ancestor developed the Flesh Devourer early on, but this technology wasn't used to benefit humanity, rather, it allowed monsters to survive by devouring flesh.

But in Lance's hands, it turned into the "Panacea," healing injuries and ailments for humanity.

This shows that supernatural power isn't frightening, what's missing now is the correct ideology to guide these supernatural powers.

And that's what Lance intends to do.

With a renewed conviction, Lance refocused on his research.

Some patients woke up from their comas without signs of rejection or any sudden issues, the treatment was that simple.

But Lance also noticed something interesting, those people fell into intense hunger, needing to replenish the energy and resources consumed earlier.

However, Hamlet did not lack food, as patients were also research subjects, this need could be met.

Handing the place over to Baldwin, Lance and his team left, each returning to their work.

...

Under the blazing sun, quite a few people gathered in the open space outside the town of Hamlet, among them were the Bastia Knights undergoing forced labor.

But now they no longer had the courage they once had charging at Lance on horseback.

The bodies that had been honed through years of training and combat had quickly wasted away over the past few days; their faces were dejected and worn, covered in simple garments.

Some still bore unhealed injuries, their hands and feet scarred by shackles, with whip marks on some of them.

Forced labor isn't a dinner invitation; everyone had tasks and failing to complete the daily quota meant no food.

If you disobey, you get the whip; if you're still rebellious, then you're thrown into the dark cell to starve for a few days.

Although the Bastia Knights had varying backgrounds, they all had their own pride that allowed them to become knights, but now, as captives, that pride was thoroughly trampled.

Among them were also dozens of soldiers brought by that fat guy, they were lucky as they hadn't yet been sent for forced labor, just locked up for a few days.

The wounded among them were more directly used by Lance for training those medical soldiers, whether they could survive once they return was another question, but for now they were alive, although bedridden.

The released ones included that fat Francis and Lawrence, their condition wasn't great either, the harm from imprisonment wasn't something that could be undone in a short time.

Lance stood against those people, soldiers maintained order outside, as it was lunchtime, those who had just eaten didn't mind sticking around for the spectacle, so there were quite a few onlookers.

Those soldiers probably didn't know their leaders had already negotiated with Lance, but since the agreement was in place, it's natural to release them quickly, to avoid wasting food.

"You're very discontent?" Lance's gaze swept over them, none dared to meet his eyes.

Though they appeared downcast and without resistance, it hadn't been long enough to completely erode their spirit.

If given the chance, their revenge would likely be swift and fierce, fueled by the shame of humiliation, perhaps in their view, only Hamlet's destruction could calm their fury.

But so what? Lance could capture them once, and he was confident in capturing them again.

"I know you're discontent, eager to see Hamlet destroyed."

Lance's voice suddenly rose, almost shouting.

"But I'm telling you, anyone else can be discontented, but not you!"

This stance drew some knights and soldiers' attention, even Lawrence couldn't help but be curious about what Lance was stirring up.

"Those Bastia Knights, yes, I'm talking to you.

Count Bastia proclaimed that the Order of Knights entered Hamlet to pursue invading Barbarian Tribes, making us the antagonists.

But in reality, did this Order really resist the Barbarian Tribes' invasion? You know best. To let those Barbarians in, you let them massacre several villages!

You know those areas are under your governance, they pay taxes to your Bastia, not to our Hamlet.

As Bastia's army, you are responsible for protecting them, so how did you treat them? Letting over a hundred people across three villages be slaughtered under your watch.

And where were you? Proudly finding an excuse to invade Hamlet, should I commend your cleverness?

The Barbarian Tribes may be brutal and ruthless, but what about you? You're even more disgusting, at least the Barbarians don't attack their own kin, yet you had no qualms feeding them to the Evil Wolf.

Don't get me started on your actions after invading Hamlet.

Over three hundred lives fell to your blades.

That's three hundred lives! Why did you slaughter Imperial People while pursuing Barbarian Tribes? Tell me why?

Ah? Lost for words?

Then let me tell you, remember, you're the ones who invaded Hamlet, you just failed. When did you become victims?

Still not convinced? What gives you the right to be discontented?"

Lance's words brazenly tore down the facade of the Bastia Knights in front of everyone, his lengthy speech cut through the initial chaos, leaving the scene in absolute silence.