Our Family Has Fallen

Although Balistan hadn't suspected that the Lord would harm him, he drank the potion, and Lance proceeded to pour the rest of it onto the wound on his leg.

Unexpectedly, just a few drops triggered a severe reaction; the pus-filled sores dissolved and burst, releasing pale yellow pus, accompanied by a disgusting stench.

This couldn't be considered treatment by any means, so Lance looked to the woman, hoping for an explanation.

The woman remained calm as she slowly spoke, "Those muscles have rotted and become a breeding ground for viruses; they must be cleaned both inside and out."

Lance didn't say much in response. He could only wait for the reaction to take its course, continually pouring on the potion, then rinsing away the filth with clean water, and then applying more potion to dissolve the pus-filled sores.

Strangely, Balistan hardly felt anything, as if the leg wasn't his, which in some ways confirmed the woman's words: the muscles had indeed rotted away.

As the potion continued to dissolve the necrotic tissue in the wound, new, tender flesh began to appear, along with fresh blood. It was then that Flesh Reconstruction was used to heal the grotesque wound.

Only with his game-like abilities could such a wound be healed so quickly; otherwise, it would have taken a year or more to mend. Moreover, in an era without antibiotics, such a large, exposed wound was highly susceptible to infection and often meant certain death.

As expected, this time there were no complications, and Balistan recovered.

The members of the small squad all breathed a sigh of relief—they had fought together against many monsters, brothers in life-and-death struggles, and now they felt less aversion to this strange woman.

"Thank you very much for your help. May I ask your name, miss?" one of them inquired.

"Grendel," the woman replied, uttering a series of syllables that differed from the common tongue.

If it were Dismas and the others, they certainly wouldn't know the language, but Lance had studied the Barbarian Tribes' language with Boudica. Although the dialects differed between tribes, there were some similarities.

And this name confirmed for Lance that the woman indeed came from a barbarian tribe somewhere in the Mountains.

Yet Lance wasn't filled with imperial arrogance; he didn't like to belittle others. On the contrary, he respected anyone with capabilities.

"I'm Lance, and I thank Miss Grendel for her assistance," Lance said, bowing slightly and taking the opportunity to explain why they were there.

"A Witch summoned a beast tide to attack the town and spread an epidemic, injuring and infecting many townspeople. So, we ventured into the wilderness hoping to kill the Witch to stop the epidemic's spread and find a cure."

At this point, Lance paused briefly before stating their true purpose.

"But now that the Witch is dead, the townspeople still suffer from the plague. I wish to ask Miss Grendel to return with us to the town to treat those patients. Of course, we will pay well."

He could tell from her ability to counteract the Witch's methods that even if she couldn't easily solve the problem, she definitely had a way. It would surely be faster than Paracelsus slowly experimenting with test subjects.

He couldn't afford to lose more soldiers; for this, he was willing to pay a price.

A purse was produced. Lance weighed it in his hand, the coins clinking pleasantly. "These thirty Gold Coins are a deposit; there will be more once the plague is cured."

Such "healer" support roles were incredibly rare. Although Grendel didn't follow the same path as Paracelsus, she was still a rare talent. First, he had to get her back to town, then he could slowly figure out how to persuade her to stay.

Lance, however, did not reveal these thoughts. His face was full of earnest entreaty as he described the plight of the suffering townsfolk.

Grendel was quite surprised by the offer of thirty Gold Coins. She had seen the world and knew the purchasing power of gold; ordinary people definitely couldn't produce such an amount so casually.

But she didn't need money. On the contrary, after learning about the situation here from the Witch, she had not intended to stay any longer.

"I'm sorry, I…"

Just as Grendel was beginning to refuse, she noticed Wang Cai slowly approaching. For some unknown reason, she suddenly reacted, aiming her sleeve towards Wang Cai. A thorny vine, like a slithering snake, shot out from it and struck.

Wang Cai was very proud. Without commands from Lance, it refused to heed anyone else's orders.

Being clever, its instinct when sensing a monstrous threat was to avoid danger.

Only now, seeing Lance return and the threat removed, did it come back.

The sudden aggression from the woman frightened Wang Cai, but it sensed the intense hostility and exploded with an aggressive leap, ready for battle.

"Stop!"

Lance shouted, instantly stepping between them, one hand grabbing the extending thorny vine and the other snatching Wang Cai from mid-air.

"She's not the enemy!"

Lance casually threw Wang Cai aside; once on the ground, the fierce white wolf instantly looked aggrieved, whimpering softly.

"Go away," commanded Lance, waving his hand dismissively, and Wang Cai scurried off, tail tucked.

Only then did Lance turn to the woman. "Why did you suddenly attack? I need an explanation."

He valued talented people, but that didn't mean he would allow her to act recklessly.

Dismas's hand rested on the pistol at his hip. Although the other two made no overt moves, their postures indicated they were ready to fight at a moment's notice.

Grendel too sensed Lance's assertive attitude, a considerable departure from his previous affable demeanor, and even felt the strong pressure he exuded.