When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist-Chapter 659 - 617: Kill Them All... That Works (4k Chapter)_3
"You're short on money and there's a famine, soon people will be starving to death. No one is going to give you wool in one hand and silver coins in the other to support you anymore!"
"When your children get sick, everyone will stand by idly, and no one will fetch medicine for you anymore!"
"When your children are turned into grape wine, others will only lament their bad luck, and no one will seek justice for you anymore!"
Unnoticed, the sound of rain was all that remained between the lead-colored clouds and the pale yellow estate, accompanied by Lalor's shouting.
"If you don't want to open the door and face such a world, then follow me."
He gasped for breath, his gaze passed over the Public Register Farmers in the yard, filled with sorrow and compassion but saying nothing, as he jumped from the branch and disappeared behind the wall.
The cold wind with rain blew across the farmers' clothes, not a single person spoke, not a single person moved.
They stared blankly at the swaying branches, as if Lalor was still there.
But beyond those branches, it seemed the village church in the distance had already fallen into a sea of flames.
The young monk, eloquent yet never arrogant, and the cowardly yet kind-hearted middle-aged monk, wailed within the flames, turning into charred skeletons.
Those precious wools, those hard-spun threads, were licked by tongues of fire and turned into flying fluff and black ashes.
Not only Henderson, even Knight Adrian sensed something was off.
Under Adrian's gaze, Henderson had to step forward, clear his throat, and shout, "Do you really believe what he says? They've only been here a few months. It's not just us, the people in the neighboring Mason District have been around for decades, don't you trust them?"
No one responded to his words, only the crackling noise of raindrops hitting the roof was heard.
Yet, a middle-aged farmer wearing a straw hat sighed, "It's the first time I've seen a monk willing to apologize to the farmers."
The previously dense crowd began to stir, Old Laver shook off his wife's pulling hand and suddenly walked out from the crowd alone, heading towards the door.
Behind him was his wife silently weeping and Little Laver guarding his mother.
"Old Laver!" Henderson stormed up angrily, extending his hand in front, his face full of fury, "Your brother lost his mind, have you lost it too?"
"I owe him a favor, he returned my spinning wheel."
Brushed away Henderson's hand, Old Laver stepped out of the yard in front of the main house.
Following Old Laver, several more farmers walked out, Henderson questioned them the same way, yet the replies varied widely.
"The Scythe Brotherhood threshed my family's grain for free, I have to repay the favor."
"They help me buy and sell threads for free, I have to go."
Henderson was left speechless, his face flushed, he turned to look at the idlers and Armed Farmers standing at the edge of the main house, "Stop them! Why are you standing still?"
But these idlers and Armed Farmers just stood there, unmoving.
They exchanged glances, no one wanted to take the risk, as they were the most astute, best at gauging situations.
In this atmosphere, in this situation, who dares to stop them? 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚
Powerless, Henderson could only helplessly look at Adrian.
Adrian's eyes, full of surprise and rage, changed to something indescribable, finally exhaled after a while, "Let them go, to seek their own doom!"
One leads two, two leads three; eventually, the Public Register Farmers left the yard in groups.
Their steps were slow, yet resolute, like an surging, quiet stream flowing towards an unknown direction.
In the wind and rain, not a single person spoke, not a single person looked back.
No matter how Henderson attempted to persuade or block, he couldn't stop their silent steps.
The autumn wind blew across the furrowed brow and steel-blue face of Adrian. He looked at the empty courtyard and found himself at a loss for words.
At this moment, in the knight's mansion, aside from those Armed Farmers, only a hundred or so old, weak, and sick, along with adult farmers who stayed behind to care for them, remained.
Rainwater soaked Adrian's cloak, his murmurs sounded particularly cold in the wind and rain, "Kill them all... it's just as well."
