mesbooks Chapter 55 A Dog Without a Home
Chapter 55 A Dog Without a Home
Having confirmed that the enemy's city defenses were almost non-existent, Lin Mo naturally showed no mercy, and among the survivors guarding the area were a few fanatics.
After more than a dozen were easily killed by vampires, the remaining people completely broke down.
They each fled.
Lin Mo was too lazy to chase after him.
His goal was to occupy this territory.
They stormed in, headed straight for the Internal Affairs Hall, and found the "Lord's Contract" inside, where Lin Mo pressed his handprint on it.
[Conquer a Level 1 Castle]
Gone!
Lin Mo was taken aback, thinking that there was no reward. Logically, the first person to conquer another 'territory' should have received a reward.
If not, it's highly likely that someone has already triggered this reward.
"It seems there are still many capable people in this world!" Lin Mo put away his previous smugness at this moment. As for excitement, he didn't actually feel much, because he would find a way to conquer all the territories he had established in this area.
It's just a matter of being a little earlier or a little later.
Just then, a commotion and noise came from outside.
"I guess they've returned." Lin Mo walked up to the city wall and saw that it was just some believers from the Church of Judgment; Margaret had not returned.
At this moment, Lin Mo realized what was happening.
"I forgot, she's also a lord hero. If she loses her territory, she'll get the news immediately. It seems she's not so stupid as to run back and walk right into a trap."
Lin Mo knew that Margaret was most likely not coming back.
This is the right choice, because returning would not only prevent them from reclaiming the territory, but would also lead to their deaths.
Lin Mo didn't care about people like Margaret at all.
Judging from the other party's frantic and proactive attacks, this person won't last long in the new world, so why bother caring?
Margaret, whom Lin Mo completely looked down upon, was indeed, just as Lin Mo had predicted, looking like a stray dog.
She originally intended to escape back to her territory.
However, halfway there, they received news that their territory had fallen and changed hands.
She didn't dare to fight back at all.
"Even the angels have been killed!" Margaret's mind was still filled with the image of the evil skeleton soldier killing the angel with a single sword strike. This was even more despairing than the end of the world.
Margaret had no idea how long she had been running.
She had lost all feeling in her legs, and her lungs felt like they had been burned.
The believers around them followed, stumbling and falling. Some lost their shoes, some scraped their knees, and fear and despair were written all over their faces.
No one dared to stop, because stopping meant being caught by the cemetery lord.
But no one came after them.
Margaret glanced back.
Behind them were only scattered believers and swirling dust; there were no pursuers.
She slowed her pace, but didn't stop, because she dared not stop.
"Godmother... Godmother... I can't run anymore..." A priest caught up from behind, bent over, hands on his knees, panting heavily, his face flushed red, and veins bulging on his forehead.
Margaret glanced at him but said nothing.
She couldn't run anymore, but she wouldn't say it.
A godmother cannot show weakness in front of others.
The believers can cry, complain of being tired, and collapse, but she cannot.
She's still quite concerned about maintaining her image!
After driving for a while, an abandoned gas station appeared ahead.
The gas station's roof had collapsed, and broken glass and rusty tools were scattered on the ground.
Various pieces of equipment were overturned on the ground, fuel tanks were ruptured, and black oil stains seeped into the ground.
Behind the gas station, there was a row of low bungalows with half of their roofs collapsed, but the walls were still relatively intact.
Margaret stopped, leaned against a pillar at the gas station, and gasped for breath.
Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of her chest.
"Stop." Her voice was hoarse, but she tried to maintain her godmotherly authority. "Rest here for a while."
Upon hearing these words, the believers felt as if all their strength had been drained, and one after another they collapsed to the ground.
Some people were lying on the ground, some were leaning against the wall, and some were kneeling on the ground praying.
Some people started crying, but most people had no expression at all, just staring at the sky with their eyes open, seemingly lost in thought.
Margaret counted the number of people.
Only a little over a hundred people remained.
When the church was judged, there must have been thousands of people.
They marched in great numbers, with angels, with spearmen, and with God's blessing.
Now, there are only a little over a hundred people left.
In Margaret's military treatise, there are fewer than 30 spearmen, fewer than 20 archers, only 5 griffins, and 4 swordsmen left.
All three angels died.
Margaret closed her eyes, and the image resurfaced in her mind.
With just one sword strike from the skeleton soldier, the angel fell with a wailing cry.
Blood seeped from beneath the pure white wings, staining the pristine robe crimson.
The angel's golden eyes lost their light and turned dark gray... that was the aura of death.
She suddenly opened her eyes, unable to think any further.
"Godmother," a priest approached, holding a bottle of water. "Have some water."
Margaret took the water, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip.
The water was lukewarm and had a plastic smell, but she didn't care.
She took another big gulp and then returned the kettle to the priest.
"Send people to check the surrounding area for monsters and to find something to eat," Margaret's voice returned to its calm.
She forced herself not to panic.
The priest nodded and left with a few people.
Margaret sat down on the steps of the gas station, placing the military treatise on her lap; it was now her last resort.
"Godmother." Another priest approached. "The men we sent out have returned. There are no monsters around, but we haven't found any food either, only a few bottles of water."
Margaret was silent for a few seconds.
In the apocalypse, having no food is more terrifying than having no weapons.
"Let's rest first, everyone go and pray, God will guide our way." Margaret stood up and walked into the row of bungalows behind the gas station.
She found a corner to sit down, hugged the military treatise to her chest, and closed her eyes.
She was afraid to sleep.
As soon as I close my eyes, I see the image of an angel falling.
But she was too tired.
Exhausted, both physically and mentally, her eyelids grew heavier and heavier until finally, she fell asleep.
Margaret was awakened by a commotion.
She suddenly opened her eyes; it was already dark.
Outside, people are arguing.
She stood up, released several spearmen to protect her, and then walked out surrounded by her.
Several priests were surrounding a group of young believers.
The believers were pinned to the ground, their faces covered in blood, their clothes torn.
These young people, who were about the same age, were surrounded by the priests.
"What happened?" Margaret walked over and asked.
A priest turned around and bowed his head: "Godmother, these people are trying to escape. They sneaked out while we were sleeping."
Margaret looked at the young man who was being pinned to the ground.
The young man looked up, his eyes filled with fear, but also with a hint of stubbornness.
"I didn't mean to run away." The young man's voice trembled. "I just... I just wanted to find something to eat. Everyone's hungry."
Margaret stared at him for a few seconds.
Then she laughed.
It wasn't his usual kind smile at all; it was a smile that sent chills down your spine.
"You're lying." Margaret's voice was sharp, each word like a nail piercing the young man: "You've been bewitched by that demon in the cemetery. He wants you to leave the Church of Judgment, to leave God's protection. He wants you to be eaten by monsters outside."
The young man's face turned pale.
He wanted to say something, but Margaret didn't give him the chance.
"Tie him up!" Margaret turned and walked toward the bungalow, shouting, "And his accomplices, tie them all up too!"
The priests took action.
Several young men were pinned to the ground, the ropes digging into their wrists.
Margaret stood in front of the bungalow, watching the men tied to the pillars.
Her expression remained unchanged, but something burned in her eyes.
The suppressed fear, anger, and resentment needed to be released at this moment.
"You chose betrayal during the most difficult time of the trial of the Church." Margaret's voice echoed in the air: "You were seduced by demons, your souls were corrupted, but God is merciful. God is willing to give you a chance to purify your souls with fire and drive those evil things out of your bodies."
A priest was stunned: "Godmother, are you really going to..."
"Light it." Margaret's voice left no room for argument.
The priest hesitated for a moment, then retrieved a few sticks and a pile of rags from the ruins of the gas station.
He piled the wooden sticks at the feet of the group, poured in half a bottle of gasoline he'd somehow found, and then lit a lighter.
Black smoke rose up, drawing an even darker column of smoke across the dark sky.