Chapter 145 – The Chaotic Dolaiz

Soon, several refugees emerged from the cellar, panting heavily as they carried three large cages.

At the sight of the three cages placed in the open space, all the refugees, including Dichiduo standing on the broken wall, fell into stunned silence.

Each cage, no larger than thirty cubic meters, was packed with over ten people, including children as young as a few years old.

Without exception, their limbs were twisted and “stacked” inside the cages. They were covered in filth and bore numerous whip marks. All the “prisoners” were emaciated and horrifyingly thin. Even from a distance, an overwhelming stench of sweat and urine assaulted the senses.

The middle-aged woman kneeling on the ground and weeping let out a sharp cry when she saw the cages being brought out. Stumbling forward, she threw herself against one of the cages, clutching the arm of a woman inside and refusing to let go.

“My poor Karia, how did you end up like this? Why did this happen?”

Large teardrops fell onto the arm, washing away some of the grime and faintly revealing the woman’s once-fair skin.

But no matter how heartbroken the woman was, Karia, squeezed inside the iron cage, gave no response. She merely stared blankly at the gray, overcast sky.

Witnessing this scene, even Dichiduo fell silent.

He could tell that these people had been tortured to the point of losing their sanity. They had become mere walking corpses, beyond saving.

For a moment, the refugees remained silent, with only the middle-aged woman sobbing uncontrollably against the rust-stained cage.

“Damn it! This is what those Noble beasts have done! How can we continue to tolerate them?”

Before long, an enraged voice broke the silence. The refugees could no longer suppress their fury. The Strongman who had fallen from the broken wall stood up, pointing fiercely at Dichiduo and shouting:

“These scum are the Nobles’ lackeys! They not only stole our possessions but also killed our families! Can any of you forgive such monsters?”

“No! Never forgive them! They must die!”

The refugees’ roars rose one after another. Even the weeping woman had stood up at some point, her eyes bloodshot and fierce as she joined the growing mob. Everyone grabbed whatever tools they could find—bricks, stones, broken wood—and fixed their predatory gazes on the bewildered Dichiduo.

“Now that we’ve already committed the crime of defying the Nobles, we might as well kill these Noble descendants! We can’t let them grow up to torment us further. Let’s start by eliminating these lackeys!”

The Strongman pointed a wooden stick at Dichiduo, and over two hundred refugees glared at him and Bilan with pure hatred. If looks could kill, Dichiduo would have been riddled with holes.

Seeing the situation spiral out of control, Lotalan quickly grabbed Dichiduo and turned to flee.

“Wait… wait! What about those children?”Faced with Dichiduo’s exclamation, neither Lotalan nor Bilan offered any response. Dichiduo also fell silent—they couldn’t carry three slow-moving children. At that moment, Dichiduo recalled his own words: “You can’t save everyone!”

After all, Bilan was a mage apprentice. As a professional, if she focused solely on fleeing, even with two burdens in tow, ordinary pursuers couldn’t catch up—especially since she wore the Mage Robe gifted by Punk for protection.

Soon, the three had scaled the high wall and escaped. The long-malnourished refugees simply couldn’t climb a wall over two meters tall.

Seeing the refugees hadn’t pursued them, Dichiduo slowed his pace. He clenched his fist lightly and muttered gloomily to himself, “Why do the Nobles treat the poor like that? What good does tormenting those pitiful people bring them?”

Hearing Dichiduo’s question, Lotalan mistakenly thought he was inquiring about Noble intelligence. She quietly halted, kicked a pebble away with force, and answered sorrowfully, “I’m not entirely sure either. My authority has been stripped away too much. All I know is these people—no, their souls—are to be sold to a ‘major buyer.’ Their minds are deliberately destroyed to serve this purpose, that’s all!”

There was one more piece of information Lotalan didn’t voice: because such tasks were inconvenient, major Nobles controlled many minor Nobles to handle the dirty work. Even the Minohorn Merchant Guild had been involved in trafficking slaves captured from the poor!

Upon hearing Lotalan’s reply, Dichiduo bowed his head silently, lost in thought.

Yet Bilan felt a shock in her heart. In this Doleiz City, who would dare so brazenly purchase slaves and extract their souls?

——————————————

“What? You say those lowly commoners have breached the inner city, and the Nobles have no time to deploy private forces against those fanatical believers?”

In the hall of the Lord’s Castle, the Crystal chandelier glittered as always, but Hett was frantic, his forehead pale with anxiety.

He had just received news that a large group of “self-detonating” believers was advancing toward the Lord’s Castle. Though fearless priests had blocked one group, a small faction of these suicide attackers was swiftly approaching without pause.

Hett rubbed his temples vigorously, feeling more agitated than ever. Though the Heide Family’s castle was reputed to be an ancient fortress, it had been constructed to flaunt Noble extravagance—devoid of basic enchantments or even magical materials. Relying on it to withstand human “rocket launchers” would only end in being buried under rubble.

“We can’t stay here!” Hett muttered resentfully.

“If we can’t stay, where do we go?”

Several elderly ministers exchanged uneasy glances. In their view, the ancient castle was the safest, sturdiest stronghold. If even this fell, they had nowhere left to retreat.

But Hett refused such pessimism. He knew that neither the Nobles nor the rioting refugees posed a significant threat. No matter how rampant they seemed now, once Formal-Level experts like Punk returned, none would dare cause trouble.

Thus, Hett’s top priority was preserving his own life.”Since those maniacs love blowing things up, let them blow to their heart’s content. I’ll disguise His Lordship and blend in with the refugees—let those fanatics get tangled up with the displaced masses!”

Hett let out a sinister chuckle. His blame shifting tactic could be described as ruthlessly brilliant—it both protected Gollat’s safety and “cleaned up” the riotous refugees along with the suicide cultists. Truly killing two birds with one stone!

The ministers below the platform were stunned speechless. What were they hearing? The Honorable Lord was going to disguise himself and mingle with common refugees? If this were to get out, where would the Nobles’ dignity be?

Several “pillar ministers” immediately dropped to their knees, weeping and pleading dramatically:

“Lord Hett, you cannot do this! That is the most honorable Lord! To mix with those lowborn commoners… this… this… we are Nobles after all!”

Hearing these old men’s words, Hett nearly snorted in anger. He thought to himself: “When your life is hanging by a thread, what use is noble dignity?”

Without bothering to acknowledge the prostrate old ministers, Hett pretended not to hear them and hurried toward Lord Gollat’s chambers.

Having already betrayed the Tisha Xia’er Church, Hett knew that Gollat—who was directly connected to Bahanger—must never fall into enemy hands. If Doleiz City were to fall, the Weimi Family would face dire consequences. He resolved that even if he had to lie among corpses playing dead, he would protect this foolish lord!

Next chapter: The battle against Tisha Xia’er begins. Please subscribe and add to collections.

(End of Chapter)