Our Family Has Fallen

Chapter 422: Chapter 279: Not Killing is for Killing_1

Did Geralt hesitate?

He did, but his gaze still fell upon the silent camp. After a moment, he asked in a low voice, ”If this is a trap and these are bait, then where is the danger?”

Upon hearing this, Lance knew Geralt had agreed to the action; otherwise, he wouldn’t have pursued the question.

”Hahaha~” Lance couldn’t help but laugh, his face brimming with confidence.

Geralt and the others looked at Lance, puzzled. How could he laugh at a time like this?

”I laugh because...” Lance began, then paused, suddenly realizing his intended words might be inauspicious. He quickly changed tack, ”You’re mostly right. But these aren’t bait—they’re sacrifices.”

”Hmm?” Geralt and the others didn’t quite understand, their confusion evident.

”All those people are gathered in that clearing. Don’t you find that strange?” Lance raised his hand, pointing. ”Because that’s where a ritual is taking place.”

Why did he dare to charge headfirst into a known trap? Because he had seen through the methods behind it. It wasn’t that he possessed profound knowledge of Mysticism. Rather, he had physically ”seen” it. In his Spiritual Vision, those people were enveloped in an almost imperceptible glow of Spiritual Essence, which also directly exposed the elder’s true intentions.

”So, what do we do?”

”From what I know of the Ascension Sect, most of their rituals use human lives and Flesh as materials. If we charge in and kill them, we might actually complete the ritual. We don’t know the consequences, but they surely won’t be good news. However, breaking it is also very simple—just two words: don’t kill.”

”Ah?” Boudica was a bit disappointed. She had come all this way and now she couldn’t even land a few good strikes? What was the point of that?

”You can beat them up and drag them out to behead them, as long as they don’t die *in there*.”

Lance wasn’t concerned. How could he let these people off? It was only that the ritual’s restrictions meant they had to fight bare-handed, without weapons.

Hearing this, a cruel smile touched Boudica’s lips, and she clenched her fists. Let’s not forget her Barbarian Combat Skills; she was proficient in unarmed fighting.

”Prepare to move. Lest delay breeds trouble.” Lance assessed the situation, then assigned tasks. ”Junia, guard the perimeter. Wang Cai, provide support from the flank. I’ll go in with Geralt and Boudica.”

”I can fight too!” Junia protested, feeling Lance was underestimating her by grouping her with the wolf.

”I know. But your Divine Arts are their greatest threat, not your fists.”

Lance spoke calmly, raising a hand to stroke Wang Cai’s furry head. ”You stick to the outside. Anyone who escapes, you bite them to death. Got it?”

Wang Cai didn’t howl. He turned his head and licked Lance’s hand, his spiritual eyes shining brightly in the night.

”Let’s move,” Lance said, letting out a long exhale. Truth be told, he felt the pressure too, but he had to bear it. If he’d strictly followed the elder’s plan, he’d be bickering with the Butler and the mayor right now. Standing here today was a gamble he’d taken.

When he looked toward the camp again, his eyes turned fierce, all hesitation gone.

Boudica surged forward, eager as a pouncing leopard. Her agile figure darted through the dense forest, making little sound. She led the way, the others following. Even when they were within a hundred meters, the frenzied cultists hadn’t noticed them. Such negligence! It’s fortunate these aren’t my soldiers, Lance mused.

Boudica was the first to burst from the treeline. The final thirty meters vanished quickly under her feet. In just a few breaths, she was among them.

”WAAAGH!!!”

With a roar, she vented her pent-up emotions. In the flickering firelight, the war paint on her face seemed to glow faintly, her expression savage.

The force of her war cry struck several cultists before her. Boudica didn’t care what they were doing; she just wanted to fight.

She lunged forward, a punch striking a cultist’s throat. The man’s windpipe shattered before he could react, his face frozen in surprise. When understanding finally dawned, he could only clutch his throat, coughing up bloodied foam.

She grabbed another cultist, a woman, by the hair and slammed her head to the ground. The woman had no time to scream before Boudica twisted and broke her neck.

But for her, this was far from enough. When training new recruits or teaching students, she always had to restrain herself, but now she could unleash her strength without restraint.

It was like a lion loosed among sheep...

Geralt’s combat skills didn’t diminish much without his weapons. His fighting style remained as decisive as ever, befitting a Master Witcher of his caliber. Those who fell to Geralt’s hand were spared prolonged suffering. Lance, however, had no such concerns.

He needed no technique, relying on his formidable physique as he charged in.

One punch caved in a sternum, stopping a heart.

One slap could nearly twist a head off.

One kick sent a body flying several meters.

A raised hand, a quick twist, and a neck snapped.

He was like a raging killing machine. No one could withstand a single blow from him. More fatally, he casually performed Sacrifices with each takedown.

As the designated sacrifices vanished one by one, the ritual enveloping the area was nullified.

There were quite a few cultists here. They quickly reacted, ignoring what they had just been doing. Drawing their weapons, they charged, intending to kill the three intruders.