The Lord Demon King is Unfathomable!

Just as Brook staggered to his feet from the snow and, limping, followed the footsteps of his fellow villagers into the camp gate, a few mounted figures stood in the nearby forest, their eyes fixed unwaveringly on his retreating back.

Leading them was none other than Adela, the Sheriff of Silver Pine Town and captain of its Civilian Corps—who also happened to be one of the Demon King's pawns stationed in Silver Pine Town.

Behind him were several of his trusted subordinates, including Hephael, nicknamed the "Shield Dropper," among Silver Pine Town's militia.

As the last refugee disappeared into the camp's entrance, a look of surprise spread across the faces of several militiamen, who whispered in hushed voices.

"By Saint Sis..."

"They actually sold their souls to the Demons!"

"Good thing Lord Ges foresaw this and left those people locked out... If they had been allowed into Silver Pine Town, who knows what kind of disaster would have happened!"

Some wore relieved expressions, while others drew crosses on their chests, fervently praying with a pious demeanor.

Choosing the torment of the afterlife in exchange for struggling to survive in this one...

They could not comprehend why those refugees would make such a choice, but from any perspective, it hardly seemed like a wise decision.

Unlike the murmuring militiamen, however, Adela could understand why those people had made that choice.

Or rather, they probably hadn't had any choice at all.

Just as he himself hadn't.

That said, siding with that master wasn't the worst option. At the very least, from his understanding of that master, those who worked for him always gained some form of benefit.

Stowing away the handheld telescope in his hands, Adela kicked lightly at his horse's belly, steering the reins to turn the horse's head.

"Prepare to withdraw."

Hephael, the Shield Dropper, sidled up close to Adela's side, ingratiatingly asking.

"Should we report this to the Lord?"

Adela responded without hesitation.

"No need for that. Lord Ges doesn't concern himself with such trivial matters. All we need to do is ensure there are no beggars in Silver Pine Town."

With that, he took the lead and rode off.

...

At the same time the Civilian Corps departed, the refugees from Twilight Province were being guided by the players to settle down at a lodge at the base of Beifeng Mountain.

In the howling wind and snow, the abandoned lodge stood silent and desolate. Yet, it at least had sturdy walls and a roof that could block out the elements.

Previously, the Life Professional Players in the Great Graveyard had constructed a number of "haunted houses" that nobody occupied, but resolving housing for a crowd of two or three hundred at once was still challenging. Thus, the NPCs were temporarily placed here.

This long-abandoned lodge, though shabby, still served its basic purpose of keeping out wind and rain. Many rooms were even furnished with makeshift beds and furniture. Crowded though it might be, accommodating two or three hundred people was feasible.

Now finally sheltered indoors away from the harsh elements, the refugees—exhausted from their grueling journey—slumped their weary shoulders and displayed expressions of profound relief.

Some leaned against the walls, some sat cross-legged on the floor, while others, utterly drained, collapsed onto the ground and fell asleep right then and there... However, before they could close their eyes, their companions shook them vigorously and pulled them to their feet.

Though no snow intruded here, the room was far from warm. At this temperature, falling asleep could easily mean never waking up again.

A few compassionate players brought spare planks from the storeroom. With the help of several strong local villagers, they boarded up the broken windows in the first-floor hall.

After completing these tasks, [Emotionally Stable] wheeled a cart loaded with coal into the lodge lobby. Following directives issued through a mission by the Lizardman Monk of the Guardian Clan, he and a few trusted brothers set up several iron buckets filled with burning coal within the hall.

The crackling flames inside the soot-blackened buckets cast a faint warmth over the dim room, restoring glimmers of hope to the frost-bitten faces.

At this moment, the cloaked Lizardman Monk stepped forward, signaling to the accompanying skeleton soldiers to distribute bowls of magic potion to the refugees.

Faced with the mysterious substance, the refugees exchanged hesitant glances but said nothing. The monk approached Andy and Maggie, looking directly at their father, Dave, and said.

"Drink it."

Without a moment's hesitation, Dave downed the magic potion in a single gulp under the watchful eyes of the others.

Almost immediately, the potion's effects began to take hold.

A surge of warmth radiated from his abdomen, spreading like a scalding hot spring throughout his body, dispelling the chill that had taken hold of him.

A look of astonishment crossed Dave's face, and he gazed gratefully at the Lizardman Monk before him, speaking in a hoarse voice.

"...Thank you."

"You should thank the Lord Demon King." The Lizardman Monk replied in a rigid, solemn tone before intoning a low prayer.

Dave looked at him with reverence. Following his example, he too began to pray, offering heartfelt thanks and supplications to the Lord Demon King.

Seeing that Dave suffered no ill consequences after drinking the potion, the gathered villagers finally let go of their reservations and drained their bowls of the foreboding emerald liquid.

The gentle heat vanquished the cold within them, averting a plague that would otherwise have been inevitable.

As the tension eased and relief set in, an enticing aroma suddenly wafted in through the half-open door, tickling their noses.