Buller was shot in the shoulder. Furious, he shouted, "Someone dared to shoot at me? I'll have the shooter hanged! I'm the brother-in-w of the Baron!"

  Gunfire rang out, and the ragtag cavalry force descended into chaos. No one cared who Buller was; dozens of rifles fired indiscriminately, riddling the ambitious young man with bullets. His body was left full of holes.

  The Baron's eldest son was ecstatic, urging the coachman to drive faster. Watching his uncle enter the military camp first filled him with dissatisfaction.

  As the carriage burst into the camp, the Baron's son leapt out without even gncing at the bodies on the ground. Drawing his sword, he bellowed, "I am the son of Baron Feller! Everyone must obey my commands. Those who refuse will die!"

  Another volley of rifle fire greeted him.

  This unfortunate noble boy had not even gathered a power seed, let alone the strength to resist rifle bullets. Like his uncle, he was riddled with holes. The cruel smile on his face remained as his lifeless body fell from the carriage.

  The coachman, miraculously unscathed by the bullets, jumped from the carriage and fled for his life. However, another shot rang out, killing him on the spot.

  Inside the carriage, the Baron's wife and two children finally realized what was happening. Trembling with fear, they huddled together. But the soldiers of the West Wind Knights, now fully bloodthirsty, stormed the carriage, dragged the family out, and executed them on the spot.

  Behind them, five more carriages carrying servants, maids, and stewards stopped abruptly. Terrified, people jumped out, scrambling to escape.

  The West Wind Knights, though not well-trained soldiers, excelled at street massacres—skills honed by years of gang activity. Hundreds of them poured into the streets, wielding any weapon they could find. The Baron's household staff stood no chance, and soon the streets ran red with their blood.

  ...

  Charlot was dining with two women in a tavern not far from the camp. The gunfire, resembling the popping of beans, caught his attention. Armed, he turned to Dolores and said, "I need to go back and check. Wait here for me."

  Dolores tossed down a flor and replied, "I'm coming with you."

  Charlot nodded and told the tavern owner, "Bring me the change!"

  In Fars, the cost of living was far from exorbitant. This meal wouldn't come close to costing a flor.

  The tavern owner hurriedly returned a handful of centimes, which Charlot pocketed, prompting an eye roll from Dolores.

  In the Old Continent, most vilges and towns didn't use cash, relying instead on bartering. Only in cities did people regurly use centimes and flors.

  Currency in Fars—whether écus, flors, or centimes—had high production costs, making them scarce. These coins were predominantly used by the wealthy, in stark contrast to Earth's widely circuted currencies. In ancient China, for example, while silver was technically a currency, most people never used it. They relied instead on copper coins, cloth, or agricultural products.

  The purchasing power of a centime was equivalent to nearly twenty yuan on Earth. Charlot often added extras like fruit wine, beer, or coffee to round out his meals.

  The three left the tavern in haste. Charlot, in no mood for discretion, leapt onto a nearby rooftop. With Swiftstep Technique and his newly mastered Spider Technique, he moved as if strolling across level ground.

  Even Frederica, with her Leopard's Hunt, struggled to keep up. Astonished, she thought, "How has his strength improved so quickly?"

  Dolores watched them disappear over the rooftops. With a flick of her slender fingers, she activated a magic card—Cat Transformation—turning into a sleek white cat. Bounding gracefully onto the roof, she followed close behind.

  Charlot raced back to the camp, only to be greeted by the horrifying sight of the Baron's wife, her three children, a host of servants, maids, and stewards, along with a dead young nobleman whose serene expression hinted at a twisted satisfaction.

  He stood there, dumbfounded. How could this happen when he had only stepped away for a meal, mere streets away?

  Grabbing Yellow Bear, who had stayed at the camp, Charlot demanded an expnation. Yellow Bear, ever straightforward, recounted the events in full.

  Charlot questioned a few others, piecing together the story: the Baron's wife, goaded by others, had sought to seize control of the West Wind Knights.

  Frankly, Charlot didn't value the knightly band all that much. Though they were numerous, they were utterly disorganized. The journey so far had been a nightmare, with constant headaches from managing the chaotic group. He had learned the hard way that war wasn't just about numbers—leading an army required endless effort.

  If the Baron's wife had offered to buy the West Wind Knights, Charlot might have sold them outright. Losing them would have been far better than this—an outright massacre of the Baron’s family.

  This truly was what wiping out a family looked like.

  Charlot asked about the identities of the deceased and couldn’t help but grumble, "Those idiots even killed the little brother-in-w? Isn’t that a bit excessive?"

  Initially panicked upon hearing that the West Wind Knights had sughtered the Baron's family, Charlot calmed down after a brief flurry of activity.

  He had survived transmigration.

  He had confronted evil gods three times.

  Would he now fear the deaths of a Baroness, her children, and their staff?

  Charlot suddenly felt that the body count was overwhelming.

  When Frederica and Dolores arrived, they surveyed the carnage but tactfully stayed to the side, giving Charlot space to act.

  Realizing he couldn’t escape responsibility for his subordinates’ actions, Charlot knew his only option was to align their stories. Summoning his soldiers, he announced loudly, "A terrible incident has just occurred. South Seraph restorationists stormed Silver Dove Fortress, killing the Baron's family. Though we fought valiantly and repelled the invaders, we failed to save the Baroness and her children..."

  "I suggest we all observe a moment of silence for the Baroness."

  Many of the West Wind Knights had already heard the rumor that they had killed an imperial noble family. While the Baron himself had fallen on the battlefield long ago, killing his wife and three children was still a crime punishable by death. Some soldiers began to pray silently, while others contempted escape.

  Charlot’s words, however, brought a glimmer of hope to the group, like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds of despair.