Our Family Has Fallen

Michelle’s ability to act so insanely is largely due to the backing of his family’s power. Others could surrender, but he knew that if he surrendered and Michelle got captured, whether it was for money or something else, he would definitely end up dead.

The difference lies in whether Michelle gets released and kills him, or if Michelle is gone and his father kills him.

Because he is responsible for Michelle’s safety, his family is in the hands of Michelle’s family; otherwise, why would they trust him so much?

He was unwilling to wait for death, so he had to fight desperately.

Fortunately, the other two were also willing to take a risk. Everyone understood that the situation was irreparable, but if they could capture the opponent’s leader, they could naturally force them to spare themselves.

Thus, the leader pretended to surrender, and as Lance approached, the man in the black robe made a move and threw something at Dismas, signaling the start of a new round of battle.

At the same time, another Heavy Armored Knight grabbed a Warhammer and charged at the fully armed Reynard.

Their targets were clearly to block Lance’s aides, and the leader smoothly drew the Longsword planted in front of him and charged at the man who was clearly the bandit leader.

But Reynard and Dismas were not ordinary people and of course noticed this.

Dismas reacted incredibly fast, almost a second after the black-robed man made his move, he quickly drew his gun and shot the thrown thing out of the air.

At the same time, Reynard was planning to charge forward on horseback, and the Champion’s Proof was already unsheathed, gleaming coldly.

But an unexpected incident occurred, which no one had anticipated. The thing that had been thrown and shot down—intended to land near Dismas—was now visible as it fell to the ground: it was a dried-up skull.

The unexpected occurrence defied reason. The skull, originally redirected by external force, conveniently landed at the feet of the charging leader. Without waiting for his reaction, it was immediately kicked out.

Lance saw the skull emitting strong spiritual fluctuations rolling to his feet and immediately shouted.

”F*ck!”

This relay pass would damn well win the World Cup, but Lance was like the poor goalkeeper; how was he supposed to defend this?

Lance didn’t even have time to ride away, as his reaction was faster than the horse’s. He had to instinctively dismount and jump aside.

This was his decisive move; he hadn’t run more than a few steps when the thing exploded. Lance felt the commotion behind him and ran another ten steps before looking back instinctively.

The violent explosion released thick, strange smoke, instantly swallowing the horse that had remained in place. Then the warhorse’s frantic neighing stirred the mist as it stumbled out only to collapse after a few paces.

The horse’s skin was covered in festering sores; blood flowed from the mouth, nose, and eyes, with pieces of bone from the explosion embedded in its body. It was evidently residue from the blast.

In just a few seconds, it had turned into such a state—a truly vicious sorcery.

This scene rendered Lance momentarily stunned, and he couldn’t help but cry out in anguish.

”My horse!”

To be honest, there should have been a grand battle, but this unexpected incident drew the attention of those present, awkwardly interrupting the fight before it started.

Only the leader seemed unaffected, swiftly evading the poison mist and came at Lance with sword drawn.

It should be known that this horse was originally the mount of Alvin, the noble son, an exceptionally fine warhorse combined with exquisite riding gear, conservatively estimated to be worth hundreds of Gold Coins.

After acquiring it, Lance rode it for a while and quite liked it, but now it lay down here.

Everyone in Hamlet knew the Lord’s emotions were usually very stable; even when encountering trouble, he was more likely to comfort everyone and then resolve the issue than to get angry.

But at this moment, Lance only felt a surge of rage instantly flood his brain, and he couldn’t help but roar.

”Damn it, daring to kill my horse!”

The leader, seeing the furious Lance, couldn’t help but feel slightly contemptuous in his heart. At this moment, Lance neither fled nor picked up a weapon but stood there empty-handed, ranting helplessly at the horse—did he really think his sword wasn’t sharp?

But this was better; capturing this fool ensured survival.

If it really came to a fight, he’d certainly swing his sword. But he preferred to capture Lance, so he reached out to grab the ”completely unprepared” Lance.

Nearer... he was about to grasp the hope of survival...

Lance sensed something and looked up at the offending fly, his disdain and doubt unhidden.

”Get lost!”

With a shout, the next second the trusted aide’s leader was thrown flying unexpectedly through the air.

Just then, not even everyone had seen the attack move, until Lance slowly lowered his foot, realizing the person had been kicked away.

How terrifying was the force of Lance’s full-power eruption?

The trusted aide’s leader, together with his armor, had to weigh two hundred pounds yet was kicked directly, sent flying and tumbling nearly ten yards away.

Lance did not concern himself with that person, but approached the warhorse.

Despite horses being tougher than humans, at this moment, it only increased the agony, lying on the ground gasping, constantly oozing bloody pus.

It wasn’t a simple flesh wound; it was beyond saving—time to give it a merciful end.

Without much hesitation, Lance finished the horse’s suffering with a shot to the head, then offered its sacrifice.

The black-robed man turned to look at the fallen, unmoving trusted aide leader, seeing the armor had caved in completely, blood spilling continuously from his mouth and bubbles forming—an evident sign of internal organ rupture, beyond rescue.