Swordsman's death didn't cause any sensation.
People glanced at the body then someone stepped forward, frisking the swordsman's corpse.
Finally, with no choice but to shake their head in resignation, admitting their bad luck.
There was nothing on the body.
Except—
A rusty sword.
"Pauper!"
In the end, that person kicked the swordsman's corpse, cursing as they left.
The rest were utterly indifferent.
As if seeing someone being beaten to death in public was nothing out of the ordinary.
Lillian Tompson, who stood nearby, was breathing somewhat heavily.
Although she was mentally prepared, she still felt shocked.
Recalling the words Julius Reed had impressed upon her, Lillian Tompson obediently closed her mouth and stood behind the Holy Master, not daring to move.
There were many people around, possibly hundreds.
If things really got out of hand, she felt slightly overwhelmed.
"Young lady, do you think what I did was right?"
Whatever you feared, would come to pass.
