Chapter 192: Chapter 187: Cold-Blooded Decision, Rift

Just as Yed had thought, in order to coordinate with the Lurkers’ actions, signs of internal chaos were now appearing in Birch Town.

At first, it was just minor friction and small conflicts, but the situation soon spiraled into an abyss of chaos.

The source was the refugees who had fled to Birch Town due to rebellions in other regions.

These people were already panicked and sensitive from losing their homes. Even with the full support of the Sun Church and the Lord’s Mansion, the aid only ensured they wouldn’t starve or freeze to death.

But human hearts are never satisfied. Instinct drove them to demand more.

More delicious food, warmer clothes, and even a house to shelter them from the wind and snow.

When this desire had fermented to a certain point, the Blood Eye Association members hiding among the refugees began to describe the nobles’ extravagance and debauchery, their arrogance, and the locals’ supposed disgust and rejection of them.

Regardless of the truth, a riot naturally broke out.

It is difficult for a person to do good, but doing evil only requires a small push from someone else and a seemingly plausible reason.

The refugees gathered together, looting shops, plundering money, and even breaking into the homes of local residents to pillage and assault them.

The guards and the Defender Army maintaining order were completely overwhelmed. They were too few in number. Even if they arrested some, killed some, and persuaded others, they could only control small areas. It was a drop in the ocean against the wider chaos.

Meanwhile, Jon and Paris, who were supposed to be outside the town testing the Fierce Warrior’s performance, had appeared on a tower not far from the Lord’s Mansion, watching from above as the town descended into chaos.

As someone from the modern era, Jon had seen countless movies and documentaries on similar subjects. He thought he wouldn’t be too emotionally affected by such things.

But reality proved him wrong. Watching through a screen was completely different from witnessing it in person.

When the wails and screams of living, breathing people filled his ears, when his fingertips brushed against the scattered ashes from burning buildings, when he smelled the pungent stench of blood on the cold wind—he couldn’t help but turn to look at Paris.

"Paris, is this your choice? To uproot the Blood Eye Association’s influence among the townspeople, you’d allow—and even encourage—all of this to happen?"

Yes, every tragedy unfolding at this moment was intentionally orchestrated by Paris Manola, the Lord of Birch Town.

He hadn’t discussed it with anyone else. Only after they had boarded the Fierce Warrior did he confess everything to Jon.

He planned to use his own "departure from the Lord’s Mansion" as a pretext to lure the Blood Eye Association’s hidden forces in Birch Town into making their move early.

To this end, he even dispatched his trusted subordinates to fan the flames of the chaos.

This undoubtedly went beyond the limits of a mere "scheme," reaching another level entirely.

Faced with Jon’s questioning, Paris didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, he stared, transfixed, at the scene unfolding within Birch Town.

His voice trembled, but his will remained unshaken.

"Mr. Jon, you are a noble Warrior. It is right that you cannot bear to watch this. But I am a Lord, a leader, and I must be responsible for everyone."

"The Blood Eye Association’s infiltration is like a venomous boil buried deep within our flesh. We don’t have time to treat it slowly. The only way is to carve it out, flesh and all, to best eliminate its influence."

"Otherwise, if the enemy were to pull something like this when we’ve mobilized our forces to fight elsewhere, that would be true despair."

"..."

Jon didn’t speak immediately. His rational mind told him that Paris’s logic was sound.

’In a town as large as Birch Town, even with the entire Sun Church mobilized, it would be impossible to screen out all the villains. Using the riot to "fish" them out was indeed the simplest and most direct method.’

’Even if the price was sacrificing some people, it was to save many more. From the perspective of the greater good, Paris’s decision was undoubtedly worthwhile.’

’Moreover, on another level, the greater the impact of the riot, the more it would force the nobles to unite.’

’Once the situation developed to a certain point, even if they were unwilling to spare forces to suppress the riot, circumstances would compel them to act.’

’Paris could then use this opportunity to take the loosely allied forces, united only in name, and truly forge them into one. By then, what’s done is done, and the nobles would have no choice but to swallow this bitter pill.’

’As for the refugees who committed crimes, whether actively or passively, they could all be enslaved according to the law, regardless of their original intentions, and be put to use in the coming war.’

’One could say Paris’s scheme had accounted for everyone.’

’If events unfolded as he anticipated, not only would he be able to dispel the Blood Eye Association’s influence in Birch Town and forge the noble forces into one, but he would also gain a fresh batch of cannon fodder.’

’A truly brilliant plan.’

’But...’

"Why did you tell me all this?"

Jon looked at the man before him and let out a soft sigh.

"In this scheme of yours, what role do I play?"

For a moment, Paris averted his gaze, but he quickly met Jon’s eyes again.

"I’m sorry, Mr. Jon... I..."

"When someone starts by apologizing, it usually means the mistake they’ve made is irreversible."

Jon stared into Paris’s eyes and sneered.

"You were counting on me not being able to stand by and do nothing, weren’t you? Is that why you told me all this?"

"Because you knew that no matter how much I disapprove of your methods, I would ultimately intervene to keep things from getting completely out of hand?"

"...Yes."

Paris replied with difficulty, his once-straight shoulders trembling slightly.

"Mr. Jon, as the Lord of Birch Town, I ask you to intervene. Please help suppress some of the rioters who have gone too far..."

Jon fell silent, his expression growing cold and hard. Paris half-expected him to draw his sword and lop off his, the sinner’s, head in the very next moment.

But... in the end, Jon didn’t.

He turned to look at the chaos-ridden Birch Town, his voice returning to its usual calm and steady tone.

"Lord Paris, this is the last time I will ever call you that."

"The Giant God Workshop will do everything in its power to control the current chaos."

"This is not because you asked, but for the sake of all the innocent people."

He gave one last look at the ashen-faced Paris.

"Goodbye."

With that, he took a step forward and leaped from the tower. His heavy cloak snapped in the wind and snow, and in an instant, he vanished from the sight of Paris and his trusted retainers.

"..."

Paris knew he had lost Jon as a friend forever.

But...

"For Emily, for Birch Town... it’s all worth it..."

...

After leaving the tower, Jon didn’t pause for a moment, striding purposefully toward the Fierce Warrior transport vehicle parked in the shadows nearby.

The Dwarves were gathered around the vehicle, their faces a mixture of vigilance and confusion.

When Sutton saw Jon return, he keenly sensed the unusual, icy aura about the young man.

He took two steps forward to meet him, his small eyes filled with a probing look.

"Lad? What’s going on? What the hell is that fellow Paris up to? The town’s in chaos!"

Jon didn’t stop or even glance at the Old Dwarf. He brushed right past him and pulled open the simple door to the Fierce Warrior’s driver’s seat.

Only after he was seated, his hands gripping the cold Direction Ball, did he turn to look at Sutton.

"Sutton. We’re heading back to the estate. Now."

He paused, each word landing like a nail of tempered steel.

"I’m going to put an end to this riot."

Sutton’s words caught in his throat.

He looked at Jon’s clenched jaw and the cold fire burning in his eyes, and he instantly understood what must have happened.

The Old Dwarf had lived a long time and seen too many wars and too much chaos. He knew all too well the cold-blooded choices leaders make for the "greater good," and he understood exactly what Jon’s anger signified: an inability to turn a blind eye to the naked suffering right in front of him.

A complex look flickered across Sutton’s weathered face.

He glanced at the distant streets, a tangle of fire and chaos, then back at the stubborn, straight-backed figure in the driver’s seat. Finally, with a sigh, his rough, large hand slammed down on the cold metal body of the Fierce Warrior with a dull CLANG.

"Alright!"

The Old Dwarf’s voice was as booming as ever, but it lacked its usual jesting tone.

"If this is what you want to do, then go all out!"

He waved his arm sharply and roared at the other bewildered Dwarves.

"What are you all gawking at? Get in the vehicle! We’re heading back to the Workshop! Gear up!"

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