The Boss King actually disguised himself as a novice village chief?!
Chapter 106 - 106 97 Lion Badge

106: Chapter 97 Lion Badge 106: Chapter 97 Lion Badge Lind’s path to advancement thus began, starting with the first bottle of “Soulless Knight” Magic Potion he consumed.

Besides, Lind would also read “Ronin’s Hand-copied Poetry Collection” and “Praise the Sun,” preparing himself for the times ahead.

He believed that knowledge from both the sun and the moon might lend him another hand, especially considering his status as “Old Nobility under the True Yellow Banner”.

Time passed.

The Undead were constantly bringing good news; they had advanced the Dragon Tooth Mountain pass to a position near the volcanic mouth.

Other than occasionally returning to handle items and experience, the number of Undead staying at Star Dragon Ridge had decreased, with most choosing to remain on the Dragon Tooth Mountain pass.

Old Cheli’s human population collection efforts were also going well, with everything developing in an orderly fashion.

…

Noon, and the sun overhead continued to disappoint, not bright enough, not warm enough, making one worry that it might flicker out with a gust of wind.

Prey Town.

Noisy chatter converged, with small groups huddling together to discuss.

When the news of Prey Town opening to the outside world spread far and wide, many chose to hide away.

They would rather beg for food in the fields than trust in this sudden act of kindness.

Kindness would be devoured, and those who trusted in kindness would be consumed without even leaving bones behind.

“You’re lucky,” the public speech had already started.

In the crowd, a man shrouded in his cloak slightly lowered his head and further concealed it with his hood to avoid attracting too much attention.

Thankfully, the people here were a bit foolish, each too preoccupied with their own worries to spare glances for others.

Rather than the relentless droning above, the man was more interested to know what exactly had happened here.

Prey Town used to be not so…

welcoming.

He remembered a time when you couldn’t take a step in Prey Town without a Gold Badge, and this time he had saved up quite a few.

But who knew, upon his arrival, he found that Prey Town had changed hands and the Gold Badges were now void.

And it was too late to turn around and leave; everyone in the area was required to enter Prey Town.

Choose to join voluntarily, or be forced until you decide to join.

“Welcoming?

Pfft,” he scoffed inwardly at his own morbid sense of humor and turned to look at the people around him.

They were gaunt, the lack of sufficient food over a long time leaving them unable to resist when soldiers from Prey Town carried out raids.

They had no choice but to surrender.

“Gathering so many people…

Are they planning a sacrifice?”

Those crazies who have Faith in the Mad Secret Overlord were a plague, persistent no matter where they were, and his first thought was of those Mad Secret fanatics.

But it didn’t seem likely, as he saw no altars or the blood-red Flames.

Only an old man who wouldn’t stop talking.

He was still giving a speech!

“Next, everyone must register their information, everyone!” the person above continued to shout hoarsely, “Just remember, those with a skill are more likely to eat well, of course, some brute strength works too!”

No one asked what would happen if you had neither skill nor strength.

They were too hungry and dizzy to ask questions, which didn’t mean they were hungry enough to be fools.

The man moved forward with the line, which inched along.

He watched as the crowd in front of him was herded like pigs towards the long tables where they were questioned and then sorted into different groups.

Regardless of age or whether they were family, everyone was forcibly separated.

A father and daughter were split up at the front; the girl cried bitterly, and when the father tried to run back to embrace her, a baton wrapped in leather struck him, telling them that order in the line came above all else.

The man watched all this without expression.

“All what Oathbreakers deserve,” he muttered to himself.

Then it was his turn.

He moved forward cooperatively to avoid the annoying threatening motion of the baton.

“What’s your name?” asked a person behind a table, who also held a pen.

This scene piqued his interest.

Write!

To think that people were still using it, and to see it being used here.

The “Han” man responded.

The man quickly wrote down “Han” and continued to ask, including his age, what he was good at, and so forth.

“Hunting?

Of course, I can.

My big…

my elder brother was a widely acclaimed archery master, I mean before the end of the world, so my archery skills are not bad.”

“Good at?

Blacksmithing.”

“I’m fairly familiar with the surrounding area.”

The more Han answered, the more he felt something was off.

It wasn’t that their questions were strange, but rather that they didn’t match the current situation.

Were they trying to offer him a job?

“Take this; this is your identity,” said the other party, handing him a piece of paper with the number “122” on it—it might have meant Han was the 122nd person.

The other party waved a hand, and soon after, Han was shooed away by the soldiers waiting on the side, eagerly anticipating their turn.

Han was well aware that he hadn’t slowed down.

It was just that the other person wanted to swing his stick at him to flaunt his power.

The queue was divided into several categories.

Han glanced at them but didn’t know which one he should join until the stick, rustling as it swung, drew closer.

It seemed he had found his chance to swing the stick.

“This way, this one!”

Han glanced at the stick.

If he erupted at this moment, he could snatch the stick away in an instant—and he could break the other man’s neck within three breaths.

But escaping from this place wouldn’t be easy.

Whether it be due to crossbows or chain mail, he would be stuck with no way to advance or retreat.

“Yes,” he bowed his head, his peripheral vision also catching the other man’s self-satisfied expression.

Such a pitiful display of petty privilege.

Han stepped into a queue.

Soon he learned what awaited him.

There was indeed a new job for him, blacksmithing.

There weren’t many real blacksmiths here.

Han started to prepare earnestly as soon as he got the job requirements, not giving the watchful stick-wielders a chance to act out.

It wasn’t ordinary blacksmithing but making a special kind of badge.

They had provided him with blueprints, drawn in great detail.

The badge featured a lion with an open mouth.

“What is this?”

Han thought he must be seeing things.

He quietly took out a badge from his chest and compared it in secret, his fingers gently caressing the dragon on the badge while his calloused fingertips felt the badge’s rough feedback.

The lion badge on the blueprint was very similar to his own, except that his badge had a dragon.

This was an honorary badge awarded only to nobles with titles.

Wearing the badge allowed one free passage within Golden City, and when encountering nobles, one could even offer a simple gesture of respect.

More than the badge’s practical convenience, which was almost useless, its inherent honor was the most precious.

Upon careful recollection, Han seemed to recall seeing the lion’s banner and even remembered that a somewhat famous noble had seemed to be associated with lions.

However, he had only heard of it and didn’t know them personally.

Perhaps this badge was somehow connected to that noble?

“Is there a noble’s presence in this area?” Han’s body became slightly warm, his heart thumping wildly—undoubtedly, this was tremendous news.

But he quickly calmed down.

“I should go back, no, I can’t go back now.

It might be a false hope, I shouldn’t disappoint Lord Lance and Lord Bard.”

Han took a deep breath.

He decided to patiently finish making the badges; maybe he would get a chance to obtain information related to the badge.

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