Our Family Has Fallen-Chapter 519 - 325: Team_2

It looked like she’d failed to dodge in time and was cut by the serrated edge of the slaughter knife.

Injuries during battle are inevitable, but Lance’s previous comments were disquieting. The weapons of these monsters were likely smeared with all sorts of filth and carried various germs. Catching an infection would be troublesome.

"Don’t be afraid, I’m here," Lance said without wasting words. He handed the torch to Tadiff and took out clean water to cleanse the wound.

The flowing water washed away most of the dirt and blood, exposing the raw wound.

Flesh was torn down to the bone. It was incredible that Boudica could still kill the Pigman Butcher despite such a wound. Even now, as she twisted her face in pain, she didn’t utter a single word.

Lance didn’t delay. He carefully cleaned the wound, then raised his hand to activate Flesh Reconstruction.

The flesh began to heal as impurities and blood were squeezed from the wound. In just a breath, it had fully healed, not even leaving a scar—only new, tender skin.

Tadiff, who was right beside her, was stunned into stupefaction watching this scene.

If his previous indifference towards Sacrifice was due to ignorance and disinterest, this was different. He had reached today by surviving life-and-death situations, enduring countless injuries—so many that he couldn’t even remember them all. Hadn’t he endured through all of them with sheer tenacity? An injury like the one Boudica had just sustained wouldn’t have healed for two to three months, and that’s assuming good recovery without infection. If it had become infected, the only option would have been to cut away flesh and scrape bone—a prospect no one wanted to face. And now, the wound had healed in a mere breath. No wonder the Lord, despite repeatedly urging caution against injuries, seemed so relaxed about it. A miracle? Divine Arts?

"The world is vast. Some abilities that exceed understanding aren’t really that miraculous; it’s just that you haven’t encountered them before, so you don’t understand," Lance said, taking the torch back from Tadiff. He seemed to notice something, his gaze falling on Tadiff’s damaged and deformed Scale Armor.

"Are you injured too?"

Without waiting for Tadiff to respond, Lance reached out and smoothed over the slight internal injury.

"It’s nothing serious, just a minor contusion obstructing your energy flow. But as I said, you must speak up if you’re injured. If you neglect this injury and fight a few more intense battles, it could develop into a serious internal injury and leave lasting problems."

Why didn’t Tadiff speak up? In truth, he wasn’t good with words; or rather, he had an instinct to isolate himself. A mission was just a mission. If he did his part, there was no need to communicate too much with others. A betrayal he’d experienced before made it difficult for him to feel safe around companions. Moreover, if he hadn’t hesitated earlier but had chosen to steadfastly engage, with him tying up one enemy, perhaps Boudica wouldn’t have been injured. And Dismas, the Gunner, wouldn’t have had to waste a shot saving me, forcing him to risk fighting two enemies in close quarters, bypassing their defenses. To him, his injury felt like retribution. Since it wasn’t serious, he thought he could just endure it until it passed, so he didn’t feel it was worth mentioning. But today, he experienced a feeling he had never had before. No one blamed him for losing focus and missing the chance in battle. Instead... That indescribable emotion was spreading.

Lance gave a reminder but didn’t continue to chastise him, instead turning to Dismas. "Dismas, are you alright?"

"Worry not, my Lord. How could those monsters possibly touch me?" Dismas grinned. With the blood-stained Short Sword in his hand, he looked rather fierce.

Lance didn’t seem too concerned, instead turning his attention to the corpses.

Pigman Butcher, Pigman Hookhand, Pigman Cripple—Lance had already studied these three types. He sacrificed them with a wave of his hand to get them out of sight.

But he kept the bodies of the two Pigman Drummers. He certainly intended to do some research on them.

However, Dismas spoke up with a reminder, "That monster beat the drum just now. More enemies might be on their way. This place isn’t safe anymore."

"I’m not afraid of them coming; I’m afraid they *won’t*," Lance remarked nonchalantly. He was here to reap rewards. Otherwise, what was the point of venturing into this worthless, barren place?

The narrow passage limited his army’s ability to sweep through, but it also constrained the Pigmen’s ability to surround them.

Lance alone could hold the pass against thousands, unbreachable by the many.

However many came, he would kill them. Today was a good day for pork!

Dismas didn’t question his Lord’s decision. He just focused on his duties: loading ammunition and remaining vigilant for any monsters that might emerge from the darkness.

Human Skin Drum... human leg bones...

Lance inspected the Pigman Drummer’s equipment. Notably, the Human Skin Drum possessed a hint of Supernatural Power. It certainly wasn’t something Pigmen could create.

Lance dissected the drummer’s corpse. He found nothing particularly unusual about its organs or mutations, except for numerous lumps growing on its neck and a brain larger than those of other Pigmen.

Seeing this, a thought occurred to Lance. The previous series of Pigmen were likely incremental steps in the Old Ancestor’s experiments, gradually perfected. This one, then, represented a further advancement in the Old Ancestor’s research. He was actually attempting to artificially create an Extraordinary being...

"My Lord, look at this!"

While Lance was occupied, Dismas and Tadiff weren’t idle. They scouted ahead and behind, remaining on guard for potential enemies.

It wasn’t long before Dismas stumbled upon something quite interesting.

Lance nonchalantly sacrificed the two Pigman Drummer corpses and, expressionless, walked towards the discovery.

Boudica, holding a torch by Lance’s side, followed his steps, craning her neck with visible curiosity.

By the firelight, Lance also saw what Dismas had pointed out: a small cart piled high with flesh and corpses.

It was unclear how long the cart’s contents had been festering. Most of the flesh had decayed, merging into an indistinguishable mass of rot.

Yet he could still discern the unmistakably human skulls. Where could the Pigmen have hunted humans?

Moreover, Lance noticed some large chunks of flesh among the remains that didn’t seem to come from humans or any normal creature, as they showed clear signs of flesh fusion. He had only ever seen such a phenomenon on Ascension Cultists who had implanted the Seed and wielded the Power of Flesh and Blood.

So, this was essentially the Old Ancestor’s dumping ground for his experiments with the Power of Flesh... But what could he say? No matter what the Old Ancestor concocted, he would have to clean up after him. Such was the price of bearing his noble lineage.

Normally, even if Dismas said nothing, Boudica would have made some remark. But now, there was only silence.

They weren’t unnerved by the macabre contents of the cart; they simply lacked the mental energy for it anymore.

Lance also noticed their dejected states. Even Boudica, usually so lively, seemed wilted.

Since entering, they had fought battle after battle. None of them possessed robust constitutions or unflagging energy like his.

"Everyone’s tired. Let’s find a more spacious area ahead to set up camp," Lance suggested.

Only upon hearing this did they realize their exhaustion. Since their arrival, they hadn’t seen the sun, had completely lost track of time, and had even forgotten the need for sleep.

They hadn’t felt it before, but now, reminded by his words, their fatigue was all too apparent.

Yet they knew where they were. Deep down, they were still bracing themselves, staying alert to their surroundings.

Lance led the way with the torch and soon found a room-sized junction. Intriguingly, it contained a large stone table.

Rough utensils—pots, and basins—were scattered atop it, surrounded by heaps of leftover bones.

Given the disorder, the carts full of rotten flesh were probably meant to be brought here, he surmised.

The Pigmen escorting the carts were the first group their squad had encountered. One wave of reinforcements had set out from this location, while the other likely consisted of Pigmen on their way here to feast.