Chapter 84

The young man lowered his head, gently strumming the strings, and murmured to himself, "It still needs to be combined with some other methods to achieve this... Hmm, but it's alright, it's still in the experimental stage..."

He moved his fingers away, looked up, and saw a group of mercenaries rolling on the ground, clutching their heads.

Music can uplift the spirit. After discovering a mysterious power in music, Veris studied it for many years, trying to use melodious music to soothe people's nerves, and the effect was quite good.

If music can bring joy to the human spirit, why can't it kill people?

Veris quickly came to this point.

Sound, which directly affects the nerves in the brain, is quite remarkable.

For many years after leaving the High Papacy, Veris carried his harp southwards, studying magic, alchemy, or anything else—it held no meaning for him anymore. Just as the elf Hill had foreseen the end of alchemy long ago, so too had he.

He began to research new powers and new professions, initially building upon existing ones, but the results were not ideal.

Soon, he wondered why he should limit his focus to the main professions within the power system.

Veris rarely uses musical instruments to kill, but last year, on his way to Mercury, he disguised himself as a musician in the city lord's mansion and killed the conceited lord with a single note, then escaped unscathed.

But that was with the help of magic. After all, no one present was deaf. The drawback of music killing people is that it has no effect on the deaf, and secondly, it will attack any creature with normal hearing indiscriminately.

In some situations, however, it is sufficient.

Veris raised his hand, and another series of notes poured out. The mercenaries who were rolling on the ground in pain quickly calmed down. Only the leader looked at the young man holding the violin in fear and shouted—but he couldn't hear anything at all.

He watched as the young man strode toward him, and in a moment of fear, he drew his weapon and pointed it at Veris, but couldn't help but step back.

His men lay scattered on the ground, the stench of blood rising in the air. Never before had the moonlight overhead felt so cold. His brain was convulsing, and the stinging pain in his ears mixed with a damp sensation made him dizzy.

Finally, he had to shout out what the Lord of Mar had told them to do and beg Veris to let them go.

Holding a zither, the slender young man appeared non-threatening. He casually played a few notes, and his subordinates immediately began killing each other. The mercenary leader had no doubt that if his eardrums hadn't been pierced by the other man at the beginning, he would probably have been one of them.

What's even more tragic is that the other party was only doing this to better interrogate him.

He didn't even know why he could understand what the other person was saying so well, even when he couldn't hear anything.

The man smiled wryly. This was no longer just kicking a hornet's nest; this person was probably a top expert from the capital, not belonging to any profession known to the public, but a legendary secret weapon.

With such formidable strength, the Salem elites have absolutely no chance of winning.

Even further north in Phoenix County, those soldiers who claim to have been tempered in the harsh northern lands for decades only need to send one person like this.

—It is highly unlikely that a soldier would be deaf.

He thought that in a battle between two armies, the Lortheran army wouldn't even need to lift a finger; all it would take was for this young man to stand at the front of the battle line, and the farther the music would reach, the more devastating the casualties would be.

The look in his eyes as he gazed at Veris held a new complexity.

Veris, of course, noticed the man's gaze. He glanced at him, then, carrying his violin in one hand, walked past the group. The mercenary leader had just instructed that the number of villagers in this village was no less than that in the neighboring village, and they couldn't kill them all in a short time, so they had to lock them all in the basement.

Why do all these villages have basements? Veris frowned slightly. No, it's not surprising that they have basements, but how can they accommodate so many people?

Is it due to custom, or some other reason?

He went to the house the mercenary leader had mentioned, looked around, and confirmed that this was the place. The door was secured with a large iron lock, and the walls of the house were made of marble, making it very sturdy.

With this big iron lock, it's really impossible for an ordinary person to open it.

Veris put away his lyre, then took out a small axe and held it in his hand.

He raised his wrist high, then brought it down sharply.

A sharp metallic clang rang out. Veris tilted his head to avoid the flying metal shavings, watched as the large iron lock was chopped in two by the small axe, and then put the axe away with satisfaction.

Veris, who could punch through a ninth-tier warrior, would find cutting through this large iron lock a piece of cake.

He was about to push the door open when he suddenly stopped.

Then he spoke, his voice slightly louder: "The people outside have been subdued, you can come out now!"

He took a few steps back.

A faint rustling sound came from inside the house. Veris thought about what the mercenary leader had said. This house was originally intended to accommodate pastors who came to the village to preach, so it was not large and had to be extra sturdy. It was built with funds from the church. Many villages had such mission houses. When pastors couldn't get back to the church or needed to take care of other matters, they would stay in the mission house for a while.

Mission houses should not have basements.

A moment later, the door to the mission house opened, and a short boy looked warily at the young man not far away. He then quickly scanned the surroundings and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that there were no mercenaries.

He turned around, his voice a little hoarse: "Everyone, come out."

A large group of people came out of the house. An old man stepped forward and cautiously asked where those fierce-looking people had gone.

Veris turned around and smiled: "I was passing by when these people tried to attack me, so I had to teach them a lesson. There are many houses in this village, but no one is around. I guessed that these people were not villagers, but outsiders. I interrogated their leader and learned that everyone was being held in the basement, so I came here to take a look."

He glanced back and exclaimed, "I didn't expect everyone to have already opened the basement."

Perhaps it was because of the large iron lock at the door that the mercenaries didn't seal the entrance to the basement properly.

Although the villagers were rescued, they were at a loss as to what to do with the mercenaries, who were still unconscious on the ground, but no one dared to step forward.

Veris stood to one side and asked, "They must have attacked you. Why don't you retaliate?"

Upon hearing this, the others were shocked, and the old man waved his hands repeatedly, saying, "No, no."

"why is that?"

The old man said, “You’re from District 11, aren’t you? Recently, this county issued a new law that says we country folk can’t harm city dwellers. I heard the pastor read it to us. We can only go to the city two days a month… Even if these people injure or kill us, we dare not do anything to them! The law says that if you injure a citizen, you’ll be arrested and imprisoned. Paying compensation is the least of your worries. If it’s more serious, you’ll be hanged.”

The other villagers nodded in agreement, but there wasn't much resentment on their faces.

Veris looked them over, his heart sinking. Finally, he sighed and said, "So that's the reason. I haven't been to Salem County for many years. I never expected things to change like this."

Has the Duke of Salem gone mad? No wonder such a huge change has occurred in this border village, yet no information has been found at the border of District 11, which is not far from the border.

It's likely that these villagers didn't put up much resistance at all.

He pulled out a flute from somewhere and said to the villagers who were looking at the mercenaries lying on the ground with worry, "Since I was the one who did it, I can't let you all be in a difficult position. Go back and rest, everyone. We still need to work on the spring farm."

Upon hearing this, everyone breathed a sigh of relief and, not daring to look any longer, headed home.

After most of the people had left, Veris noticed that there was still a boy standing there silently.

It was the boy who opened the door to the mission house; he pursed his lips and looked at Veris.

Veris had seen too many expressions like that, so he only glanced at the boy before raising his flute to his lips.

Just as he was about to play the whistle, he remembered something, put it down, and looked back at the boy: "Go home."

The boy looked at him and asked, "What are you going to do with these people?"

Veris raised an eyebrow: "Are you really that concerned about this?"

The boy's eyes turned cold: "These people crippled my grandfather just because he was a little slow and didn't make room for him. When I came back, my grandfather was dumped on the roadside, his body covered in blood. He's been locked in the basement these past few days, and he's died."

The young man was taken aback.

"Are you going to kill them?" the boy asked.

“I will take them to the church for treatment,” Veris replied.

The boy couldn't help but get angry: "A church? What's the use of a church!"

"Are you going to let them go?!"

"Then I'd rather carry a rock and smash them all to death. Even if the city lord investigates, I'll be the only one responsible. I'll kill them to avenge my grandfather, and that will be a quick and painless death!"

Veris stroked the flute, its smooth texture and uneven surface marked by tiny holes. He looked at the boy, still calm: "Your grandfather probably wanted you to live."

The boy looked at him, his eyes reddening.

He murmured, knowing perfectly well the meaning behind Veris's words, yet how could he live with such a clear conscience—just like the other villagers?

But what can he do?

Veris looked at him and offered a few words of comfort: "I will deal with these people. If you want revenge, then live well and seek revenge on the person who truly harmed your grandfather."

The boy was taken aback.

Veris smiled. "Do you think a group of mercenaries would come here for no reason?"

“They were just following orders, but that’s how they always do things, and that’s what harmed your grandfather.”

"Who is it..." the boy's voice trembled. He already had a vague answer in his heart, but he still wanted to hear Veris's answer.

The young man stared at him intently, a faint smile lingering on his lips, indifferent, perhaps even tinged with a hint of pity: "Do you know the Duke of Salem?"

The boy was struck dumb.

Your Excellency the Duke! The Duke who rules this county is someone those of us who were born and raised in villages and rarely visit the city in our lives could never even dream of—

He had lost even the strength to ask "why".

Veris: "Cover your ears, child."

He gazed at the dark figure in the night sky, "Only by surviving can there be hope."

The boy didn't understand the meaning of the first half of his sentence, but he still subconsciously raised his hand to cover his ears.

As the mysterious young man raised his flute and began to play, the mercenaries lying on the ground, their fate unknown, staggered to their feet. Their eyes were glazed over, clearly unconscious, yet they began to walk steadily toward the edge of the village.

The only mercenary who didn't move was particularly noticeable; he too had fallen into a coma, but he was different from the others.

Veris walked outside, playing his flute.

The boy looked hesitantly at the man on the ground.

Suddenly, a dark shadow appeared behind him, growing larger and larger. He was jolted awake and turned around, only to see not a giant beast, but a bored young man, about eighteen or nineteen years old, with gray-green braids, light gold eyes, and an unreadable robe.

"Hey, move aside," it yelled, even though the boy wasn't blocking its way at all.

He then walked up to the mercenary leader, sized him up, chuckled, and, to the boy's astonishment, spat out a ball of fire.

The intense heat exploded, and the boy retreated repeatedly, only to see that the once tall man had turned to ashes in an instant.

That man was alive just now!

The boy, facing a murder scene for the first time, turned deathly pale.

The smell of burning human flesh, and the shadow of a body violently jolting as the flames fell, made him feel as if he were experiencing a nightmare, frozen in place, even though it was only for a short while.

Long glanced at him and chuckled, "Killing people, you brat? Do you even know what killing means?"

-----------------------

Author's Note: Updates will likely be around 3kbps during the National Day holiday.

See you tomorrow! [kiss]