Chapter 150 Chapter 148 Safety Zone
In the Baisha District, on the main street.
A crowd of over a hundred people marched vigorously down the street, with cloth strips tied around their shoulders. Since George came to the Baisha District, the temporary security team of eight had snowballed, reaching over a hundred members. Deserters, opportunistic citizens, and thieves all came to “deeply” realize their mistakes in front of George’s giant sword, and after receiving George’s assurance, they were all willing to atone for their wrongdoings.
For a time, the security in Baisha District improved significantly, and it was much quieter compared to other districts.
Jima strode alongside George, holding the temple banner high. The doors and windows on either side of the street were tightly shut, with wooden windows cracked open just enough for vigilant eyes to watch the peculiar procession. Jima noticed a gaze on her and turned her head, waving the temple flag at the eyes behind the wooden window.
“Thud.”
The sound of wooden windows shutting with fear echoed, as several windows hastily closed.
Jima smiled happily, feeling a sense of delight akin to a fox borrowing the tiger’s fierceness.
“Officer, officer!”
A few children ran over, their faces flushed with excitement, almost jumping as they shouted, “There are people smashing doors and robbing ahead!”
Among those in George’s temporary security team were a group of orphan thieves controlled by gangs, living off stealing.
“Well done, children,” George said, “Locke, Locke.”
A young boy eagerly stepped forward. He had a round, dirty face with greasy brown bangs on his forehead and crumbs from the bread George had provided at the corners of his mouth. Jima found him somewhat familiar.
Hey, isn’t this the kid who took my money to provide cover while I evaded pursuit?
“The task of encircling the area is entrusted to you. Lead the first squad to surround them, and be careful,” George instructed.
“Don’t worry, officer. The guards can’t find me even if they want to; no one knows the alleys better than I do.” Locke stood with his hands on his hips, pointing, “Brothers of the first squad, follow me!”
A group of adults holding wooden sticks and long rods followed Locke as he dove into the alleys, making for a rather comical scene. Jima watched as the figures of the first squad disappeared into the alley, subconsciously worried that someone might sneak away; after all, the most enthusiastic were the children, and children are weak. If an adult were to swing a stick, they could easily escape.
But she soon dispelled this thought. Each member of the first squad had promised George not to run away, and George could distinguish lies. Moreover, he had earlier taken her suggestion to place several liars into a separate second squad, giving them the chance to escape.
The result was that the unfortunate second squad’s news of running back had reached him. George mounted his warhorse and, two minutes later, managed to capture all the “deserters” of the second squad, leaving none behind. They had unwittingly wandered into a dead end.
Jima deceived everyone by saying it was a miracle from the God of Dawn, who was all-knowing and all-powerful, turning back anyone who tried to escape into dead ends while revealing their secrets to George. She embellished the tale further, claiming that if they angered the God of Dawn again, sulfur and fire would rain down to burn them alive, leaving everyone stunned.
George listened, silently half-kneeling to confess to the deity. Everyone thought George was communicating with the deity, inquiring who among them was a villain with a duplicitous heart.
After reminiscing, Jima thought: although I contributed, ultimately it was built upon the extraordinary abilities related to the Holy Knights and “Order.” It was impossible to mislead so many people relying solely on myself.
At that moment, a whistle sounded from ahead, signaling that the encirclement was complete.
George immediately led the charge, and Jima raised the flag and followed. Upon turning a corner, she saw a group of thugs trampling on the recently dismantled courtyard doors, moving things from within the yard, including women.
A young woman being carried over the shoulder of a large man was kicking and shouting, “No, no! Put me down!”
The large man laughed heartily and slapped her backside, saying, “Scream all you want; even if you shout your throat raw, no one will come to rescue you. Hahaha, you used to serve your master; now it’s time to entertain us.”
The young woman began to plead and cry, turning her side toward Jima, with a prominent nose. With her experience, Jima immediately recognized that the woman was a great beauty. She quickly quickened her pace and rushed in front of George, standing in front of him, shouting, “Here comes the screams! Brothers, let’s go save her.”
The large man turned his head and, seeing over a hundred people charging forward with raised sticks, instantly turned pale and threw the beautiful woman aside, shouting, “Run!”
The others either panicked or froze. One thug loosened his grip, dropping a wooden box that spilled a pile of silver and copper coins, causing him to fall backward in fright and quickly scramble away. More thugs simply ran off with their leader. However, they didn’t get far before a young boy darted out from another alley with a group of fierce adults wielding sticks.
Locke shouted, “Where do you think you’re running to?”
The thugs sandwiched between the two groups were quickly engulfed by the tidal wave of the security team. Sticks came down, making them cry out for mercy. Many had already experienced beatings before joining the team, so they struck without mercy, venting their anger upon them.
Jima cleverly made a dash and was the first to reach the fallen great beauty, saying, “Miss, you are safe now.”
The face revealed from beneath the hood lifted up, displaying deep and beautiful features along with a pair of pointed ears. She wore a reluctant smile and said:
“Thank you.”
Jima’s body stiffened, and the blood in her veins felt frozen.
As George passed by Jima on his way to rescue the beaten thugs, he sensed Jima’s unusual behavior. He patted her shoulder and asked, “Are you okay?”
At the same time, he remained vigilant, protecting Jima.
Jima shivered and replied, “I’m fine, I’m fine.”
George noticed the beauty’s pointed ears and curiously asked, “An elf?”
At that moment, the beauty stood up, her complexion reflecting an enchanting blush. She said to George, “Thank you for saving my life; I have no way to repay this great kindness. I was once a princess of the forest, but now I am left with nothing but this body—”
“Don’t listen to her nonsense!” Jima exclaimed, “Litis! I know it’s you.”
George asked, “Do you know her?”
Jima lowered her voice and said, “She’s my bedfellow who trained me. She’s a total pervert, and my worldview has been shaken by her.”
Litis removed the hood from her head. Her red eyes gazed at Jima, saying:
“Jima, I didn’t expect to see you here. What bad luck; just as I found some men I was interested in, my good fortune was spoiled.” She then turned to George and said, “Now it seems you are the hero George that girl talks about every day.”
“What did you do to Jima?”
“The kind master forced me to commit many sinful acts,” Litis said with her hands clasped in apology. “Not just to Jima; I’ve harmed many young girls. I can’t sleep at night. I want to atone, but I’ve already fallen. I can only atone with my body. May I ask if you have any positions for military prostitutes in your ranks? It looks like your team could use a little benefit to gather people’s hearts.”
Jima hurriedly said, “Don’t! This woman could take down an entire army.”
George said, “You’re lying. If Jima hadn’t accused you, I wouldn’t have done anything to you. Now, I have a question: are you still working for the kind master?”
“No more; I was fired.”
“Good, then it’s settled.”
As George said this, he turned to leave. Jima followed him away.
Litis felt that her fortune had turned, and her earlier interest evaporated. The Baisha District was a great place to seek pleasure; the residents generally had clean clothes and decent nutrition. But now it appeared to have been tarnished by the hero’s presence. She turned to leave when she saw the heavenly warhorse moving slowly through the crowd and immediately found herself unable to move.
On the other side.
After George and Jima continued to bring people into the security team, they found that there were no malicious incidents left in Baisha District. The new thugs came from neighboring districts, and George arranged several squads to patrol Baisha District while preparing to seal it off and establish a closed safety zone.
The water gates on the waterway had already been lowered halfway by the guards to prevent anyone from spreading through the waters, which of course also trapped the residents eager to return home inside the waterway.
However, this also facilitated George’s task. The Baisha District was relatively isolated. With the waterways blocked, there were only two major bridges connecting it to the outside world. He led people to block several entrances, leaving just one path, which he personally guarded to receive citizens seeking safety and refuge from elsewhere.
The bridge was filled with people, all gathered at the checkpoint. George made them promise not to rob or steal inside the safety zone; only those who answered honestly would be allowed to enter.
Another batch of people was allowed in as the bar was lifted beside them. A temple flag was thrust into the heap of items stacked on carriages and boats. Looking up, their expressions were complex, and some looked as if they wanted to say something but none voiced any opposition.
At that moment, the sound of crying and wailing came from the other end of the street. A few citizens, injured and crawling, rushed from around the corner and saw the bridge crowded with people, urgently shouting:
“Run! The slaves are coming!”
As the words left their mouths, a thin but muscular blacksmith charged out, wielding a miner’s pick, and swung it down hard onto the head of a man lagging behind.
“Thud.” The man fell to the ground, and the blacksmith lifted the pick hard; the man’s head flowed with blood as he cried out, “Spare me! Mercy, mercy!”
The blacksmith remembered his neighbor, who had been jealous of him, reported him, and caused him to end up in the mine. His arms were filled with rage, and he struck down multiple times on the man’s head, who struggled once and then lay still.
With bloodshot eyes, the blacksmith shouted:
“Kill! Kill these slave owners!”
Behind the blacksmith, a large group of people holding scythes and picks rushed out, overwhelming the unfortunate lagging citizens, burying them beneath the blows of the miner’s picks.
The people on the bridge became agitated, all pushing toward the checkpoint.
“Stop! I will protect you!” George shouted. He turned around, raised the temple flag high, and threw it forward; the flagpole pierced the ground, landing squarely in front of the group of rioting slaves.
“Do not cross the flag!” George bellowed.
With red eyes, the blacksmith, covered in blood and brain matter, stepped over the flag. In his eyes, the citizens running ahead all bore the faces of the guards from the mines, and they were all deserving of a good strike.
Suddenly, a silver-armored knight descended from the sky, striking down the blacksmith with a punch. George single-handedly grabbed the blacksmith and addressed the murderous slaves, who all halted:
“Do not cross the flag! Anyone who does will be executed!”
With that, he tossed the blacksmith into the crowd. The slaves quieted down for a moment. The blacksmith stood up and, seeing the temple flag, shouted in anger:
“You holy knight, you actually collude with the kind master?”
“They are not the slave owners who oppress you,” George said. “I understand your difficulties, but I will not allow you to cross this flag and harm the innocent.”
“Innocent?” The blacksmith wiped the blood from his face, “In this city, everyone drinks the blood of slaves and eats the flesh of slaves; from babies to the elderly, no one is innocent. They all deserve to die.”
“What crime did the babies commit?”
A person laughed, “That baby’s mother’s silver necklace was dug up by us. The mother feasts on what our slaves produce, and the baby drinks her mother’s tainted milk.”
“You really killed a baby.”
The blacksmith said, “I choked one to death.”
George gave up trying to persuade them, raising his massive sword and declaring:
“The chief culprit is the kind master. If you want to throw your life away at my sword, abandoning the pursuit of the kind master, I don’t mind taking your lives.”
“Why?”
“I want to protect ordinary people.”
“Pah! What justice,” the blacksmith spat at George’s feet. “When we were thrown into the mines and digging, where were you to protect us? They say holy knights are law-abiding; I’m sure you must have reported many runaway slaves.”
The slaves immediately became agitated and shouted.
“I did not; I even saved one,” George protested.
But his defense was drowned out by the slaves’ shouts, and no one heard him. Someone yelled, “Everyone, let’s go together!”
“Kill the snitch!”
The bloody picks and scythes were lifted, surging toward George. George did not want to start a massacre; he charged forward, using the back of his sword to knock aside weapons, bracing against attacks with his armor, and grabbed the nearest slave, slamming him down into the crowd.
Jima watched from behind, shaking her head. She increasingly felt that George was doing something foolish. If it were her, she would have already chopped off heads with a few sword strikes, piled them up, stuck the flag on top, and shouted that anyone who opposed her would die.
She wouldn’t argue with the weak with words; Jima preferred to use knives to make them see a harsh reality: oppose me, and you die.
Though she thought this way, she still raised her hand, preparing to extinguish the flames of desire in a few people’s chests.
The slaves were knocked down in large numbers, the attack slowing. Seeing this, the blacksmith raised his arm to yell, “Everyone, quickly—”
Before he could finish his sentence, he was suddenly kicked down by a foot. As he was about to explode in anger, a foot pressed down on his chest. When he recognized the newcomer, he froze.
It was a short half-elf with white hair, wearing a gray-black cloak, the Shadow King—their leader.
“Shut the hell up!” the Shadow King, Acanis, shouted. “You bunch of bullies, why are you so soft with the kind master’s army?”
Someone muttered, “We tried; many died.”
“Then wait! Don’t waste your lives here.”
George looked at the Shadow King with a reproachful gaze and said one last thing: “You’ve been watching all this.”
The Shadow King snorted but did not deny it, saying, “It’s no concern of mine, smart move. I told them not to enter Baisha District. Well then, let’s go.”
The free slaves followed the Shadow King away.
Jima ran over, whispering, “The Shadow King sent the slaves to test your attitude.”
George looked at the more than ten citizens lying on the ground, their blood staining the street, and said, “He could have just asked me directly.”
“Enough, no more talking,” Jima said. “You should prepare yourself mentally.”
“What mental preparation?”
“The preparation for people demanding justice from you,” Jima said. “Generally, people will only point fingers at good ones, finding their good deeds not good enough. And you are a great good person. In everyone’s eyes, a great good person means you owe them money.”
George felt puzzled as he pulled up the flag and handed it to Jima.
A man and a woman walked back to the bridge, stopping at the checkpoint. The people on the bridge watched them in silence. They were closest to the slaves; had George not stopped the slaves, they would have faced grave danger.
Of course, they also heard George’s conversation with the slaves.
Out of more than a hundred people, only a few murmured their thanks after George passed.
A voice louder than the thanks erupted: “Holy Knight, how can you let that group of baby killers go?! What about your justice?”
