Chapter 741 - 458: Understanding (3)

CRACK!

Flames licked at the firewood in the hearth, letting out a soft crackle.

The man with his back to the room slowly drew his gaze away from the mural before him.

He turned around.

The dim, yellow firelight finally illuminated his face.

He was a burly man, nearly two meters tall. Beneath strands of gray-white hair, a pair of matching gray-white eyes were sunken deep in their sockets.

The gray-white stubble on his chin was like a layer of frost. A hideous scar ran diagonally from his left brow bone to his jaw, like a centipede entrenched on his pale skin.

He wore a suit of form-fitting silver Leather Armor. The firelight danced across his body, casting his shadow on the wall like a white bear poised to strike.

GULP!

Seeing this, Chat unconsciously swallowed, lowering his head even further, hardly daring to meet the man’s gaze.

"You’re saying..."

Ired began, his voice so deep it sounded as if it were being forced from his chest.

"That this Elu—after being brutally tortured and starved for three days, then tied to a pyre with his hands and feet bound by rope—killed Rock and four trained militiamen?"

His gray-white eyes were fixed on Chat, his gaze dangerously dark.

He had personally selected the men assigned to the execution ritual.

Therefore, he knew exactly who Chat was talking about.

A freshly-adulted, malnourished whelp.

His frame was so thin it looked like a gust of wind could knock him over.

How could a wretch like that possibly kill Rock?

Rock was just one of his dogs, completely incomparable to him.

But he had the strength of an Apprentice Knight and could normally handle three or four adult men without a problem.

Not to mention there were four militiamen with him.

And yet, Elu had killed them all.

If Chat hadn’t been an old subordinate who had followed him for years, one he knew wouldn’t joke about such matters...

...he would have suspected the man was playing a fool of him.

Chat wiped the cold sweat that was constantly beading on his face with his sleeve.

"It’s the absolute truth, Lord Ired. The villagers who were there all saw it.

The bodies have been brought over. They’re just outside."

Ired’s gaze sharpened abruptly.

"Take me to them."

...

Five bodies were arranged neatly on the ground.

Ired knelt on one knee, his leather-gloved right hand brushing over the horrific, gaping wound on Rock’s neck.

Then, his eyes swept over the four remaining militiamen’s bodies to the side.

The causes of death for the four bodies were, respectively: a torn-off jaw, a pierced chest, a throat pierced through, and a severed head.

Their deaths were gruesome.

Some of the surrounding villagers and militiamen turned pale at the sight.

As for the reactions of those around him, Ired paid them no mind.

His eyes remained fixed on the bodies on the ground.

His brow furrowed deeper and deeper.

The manner of their deaths varied.

However, they all shared one thing in common.

Every one of them had been killed in a single blow.

To achieve such a feat, the attacker would need an extremely high degree of control over their strength and angles.

Even for him, a formally certified Knight of the Federation, accomplishing this would be exceedingly difficult.

After all, a Knight, to put it bluntly, was just an ordinary person who had undergone rigorous training.

Only a Great Knight who had honed their skills to the Peak and possessed the pinnacle of human physique could possibly do it.

’But how could that be possible?’

Every Great Knight is the product of immense refinement and long-term training.

Compared to the possibility of the killer being a Great Knight, Ired was more inclined to believe another possibility.

Thinking of this, he pushed himself up from his knees and his gaze swept over the silent villagers.

"Chat."

His voice was deep.

"Give these four brave men a proper burial. Compensate each family with three Silver Lions. May the gods soothe their souls."

As for Rock, he had no family, which saved Ired a bit of compensation money.

"Yes, merciful Lord Ired!"

Chat’s eyes flickered, and he quickly shouted in a loud voice.

"The merciful Lord Ired!"

The surrounding villagers echoed the sentiment, their gazes toward Ired now holding a trace of reverence.

One had to understand, a villager’s total income for an entire year might only be half a Silver Lion.

Therefore, three Silver Lions was no small sum. If they were frugal, it was enough for a family to live for six or seven years without working.

Ired naturally took it all in.

His willingness to give them compensation wasn’t because he was some kind of saint.

Rather, it was a calculated move to win their loyalty.

’If there’s no benefit, and I rely solely on my subordinates’ fear of me, who would truly be willing to die for me?’

’Compensation for the dead is, in the end, a purchase of the living’s loyalty.’

Halfway back, Ired seemed to recall something and paused.

He turned his head to look at Chat and said,

"Search the surrounding area. The moment you find any trace of Elu, inform me immediately!"

"Yes, Lord Ired!"

Chat jolted and hurriedly replied.

After seeing to all this, Ired went straight back to his house.

However, unseen by the crowd, the moment he returned to his house and shut the door,

Ired’s expression turned as dark as a thundercloud.

As a Sheriff and the head of three villages,

the information he possessed was far beyond what ordinary villagers could comprehend.

He knew that a group of strange and powerful people existed in this world.

And he, by a stroke of luck, had become one of them.

And it was for that very reason.