The Boss King actually disguised himself as a novice village chief?!
Chapter 145 - 145 133 Chanting Song Resurfaces

145: Chapter 133 Chanting Song Resurfaces 145: Chapter 133 Chanting Song Resurfaces The people arranged by Old Qietli had already arrived, and the majority of these minor stewards responsible for distributing food were seeing Lind for the first time, his golden armor and towering stature casting an oppressive shadow in the sunlight, striking their hearts like a heavy hammer and bending their spines involuntarily.

He exuded the aura of someone from two Upper Ranks, a Great Knight, and noble bloodlines, along with the exquisite and excellent Gold Dragon-skin Plate Armor he wore—his mere presence was enough to set hearts drumming.

He was at a different level of life.

“Who will tell me voluntarily?” Lind spoke, and even the sound of blacksmithing nearby seemed to quiet down significantly.

The blacksmiths pricked up their ears.

This was a public inquiry, but to everyone present, it felt more like a trial.

“When I provided sufficient food, secure housing, and warm clothing yet there are still those who violate my rules…

you, in charge of distributing food, should know who has done what.”

No one spoke; they all kept their heads low.

“Han,” Lind said without the desire to waste more words.

“Yes!” Han carried a hammer.

‘Hammer Carrier’ Han, extremely skilled at using his hammer to smash the skulls of the unfortunate, then watching the blood flow down from their necks.

Executions were common in the military, especially in the Second Legion.

In the First Legion, nobles becoming deserters were just a laughing stock, but in the Second Legion, becoming a deserter meant only a dead end.

As Han, a towering figure reeking of sweat, approached with his hammer in hand, several stewards had already collapsed in fear, yet still, no one spoke up.

Fortunately, Han simply stood there waiting for Lind’s command, not acting on his own.

Perhaps it was just a scare tactic?

They hoped so.

“All the stewards present here, your positions are revoked.

Then, arrest all their relatives, friends, anyone they’ve had connections with.”

Collusion was the only reason for concealment, and that implied shared guilt.

Lind didn’t have the time to be a wise lord; the state of the world decreed that commoners would always be at the bottom.

“Start the interrogation from the top, question each one.

I don’t care whether they took advantage of a slice of bread or something else; catch one, kill one.”

I used to turn a blind eye to small thefts, but if you think you’re entitled to it, no matter how little you ate, you’ll pay with your life.

“Yes!” Han nodded, and the soldiers who had been standing by moved to follow behind him.

Lind watched the stewards, and regardless of whether or not they had any familial affection left, they should be frightened by now.

As soon as a little information is extracted from their relatives, their fate would be sealed.

The stewards were obstinate, but they couldn’t ensure the same of others.

“Of course, we have an informant system,” Lind said, shifting his tone, “I know some of you might have broken the rules, but that’s alright.

I can give you a chance.

Now, line up and come to me one by one, whisper to me what you’ve done and who else you know has done it.

The first ten most honest people will be spared from all punishments.”

Lind, wielding absolute power and control over the food supply, faced these minor stewards, who were full of petty schemes, with an overwhelmingly dominant stance.

He had no patience for lengthy investigations.

What followed was simple—competing denunciations that spared Lind from having to interrogate anyone himself.

Thus, like the hidden rats Old Qietli had never managed to deal with, they were now being picked out one by one.

The clothing factory.

A bald man was dozing at his work; piecework wasn’t hard for him, and his rough, turnip-sized fingers always managed to snag the top spot in the fine work.

As for the trick…

he just needed a nap, then he could snatch the finished pieces from others at the end of the shift to tally his quota.

The people around him were angry but dared not speak up, because he wasn’t alone.

This group was intricately connected, helping each other out: provoke one, and others would swarm to retaliate, so most chose to swallow their anger.

“Wheel?

Who’s Wheel?” a voice called out.

The bald man, jolted awake, saw that the newcomers were soldiers and his complexion shifted.

He glared fiercely at the people around him, knowing someone must have reported him again.

But soldiers are the absolute symbols of power, far above those with the least bit of authority—none of his weak friends could help him now.

After this incident, someone was definitely going to suffer.

“Sir, it’s me!” Wheel got up obediently, his face plastered with a smile.

“Hmm,” the soldier nodded, walked up to Wheel, suddenly grabbed his collar, and swept his legs out from under him, causing him to crash to the ground.

Wheel, not steady on his feet, face-planted into the earth; while feeling frightened and angry, trying to lift his head, he heard a “clang” as a blade was drawn.

The soldier, holding the longsword high, brought it down in one swift stroke.

A head fell to the ground.

All of this happened in the blink of an eye.

“Ah—!” Someone nearby couldn’t help but cry out, but even more were excited by the sight.

The hidden accomplices of Wheel’s color drained from their faces—they had never anticipated this.

Yet no one dared to question it, everyone knew that the soldiers never managed the operation of Prey Town; they were responsible for defense, and did not interfere with the small stick holders of Prey Town, they represented the Lord.

Now that they had taken action, the small stick holders only wished to shrink back and hide from afar, not until the soldier had wiped his sword and turned to leave did the small stick holders come forward to carry the body away and clean the blood from the ground.

Throughout, no one dared to speak.

The air was so silent that all that could be heard were gasps for breath.

This was a swift sweep aimed at the rats within Prey Town, the duration of which took to finish a pint of beer.

A total of 31 rats were executed, including 12 interconnected leaders, 8 implicated guards, and 11 small rats who had informed on them.

Informing, tracking, revenging—almost all were carried out by the small rats.

Entangled in their interests, both mastermind and accomplice met the same end.

The Lord did not wish to waste time on this matter.

Soldiers held too high a position, so they absolutely could not be given the right to administer below, or else the oppression would only be more severe.

The management ranks were updated, and an announcement was posted for everyone—if someone informed and was confirmed to be truthful, they would be rewarded.

But very few came to inform, which also indicated that the rats hidden in the shadows were still not completely eradicated.

“If it weren’t for Serene really being unable to hold on, just having a Gold Badge sign-in would have done it.”

For the sake of ordinary NPCs, it wasn’t worth it.

They could only send more people to strengthen the management; after all, people were cheap.

At the same time, Lind was certain that Old Cheli truly lacked the talent for mayor.

It was time for a change.

Lind would rest in Prey Town for a day, waiting for the blacksmiths to first forge the tack for his steed, the Catastrophe Warhorse.

With news of Lind’s swift executions during the day, the entire Prey Town became very quiet at night.

However, it wasn’t long before frantic voices shattered the night’s silence.

The man that came was one of Lance’s underlings, a Great Knight; he first rushed to the Star Dragon Ridge outpost, and upon learning that Lind had arrived in Prey Town, he hurried over while chewing on a Magic Potion.

“Slow down, don’t rush,” Lind said as he put on his coat and pulled over a chair, gesturing for the other to sit.

“As our men approached the Ghost Claw Tree, they suddenly heard an eerie song,” said the Great Knight, his face stricken with terror, “and then, out of our control, we started walking towards the source of the sound, and I was the only one who escaped; the rest all perished!”

He had encountered the chanting song twice before; the first time was with the Undead on a trip to the Mad Wise Ones’ village, the second was when forming a squad to hunt down an Upper Rank black knight.

But relying on his Great Knight’s mental resistance, he had successfully escaped.

“What did you see?”

“A lake, and the figure of a woman, very ethereal.”

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