"Aha! Now that bastard can't escape!"
Philip cheered happily, as if catching the man-eating criminal was within reach.
"Master, you must help us again. Let's go together and chop this bastard up!"
Philip was capable of being a sergeant, so naturally, he wasn't stupid.
Now they knew the criminal's traits, but wouldn't they still need to search slowly? However, if they brought along the Demon Hunter, who was even more astute than a Temple Priest...
There's a chance they might wrap up the case today!
Lann thought about it—a task worth two hundred and thirty Orens—and he just came here to kill two Ghouls and say a few words. It didn't seem quite right.
Moreover...
The young man's cat-like eyes narrowed slightly, looking just like a large predatory cat, with a cold and fierce glint.
He was genuinely curious about what it felt like to chop up a Cannibal Race.
"Did you secure the crime scene?"
Lann nodded at Philip and then asked.
The sergeant slapped his big belly, the iron gauntlet clanging against the armor on his stomach with a "DuangDuang" sound.
"Nobody's watching the scene, but don't worry. Since this incident occurred, the surrounding villagers wished they could tear that murderer to pieces, but no one dares to go to Dunham, after all, who knows when the Goddess might unleash her wrath."
"Understood."
Lann nodded gently.
The incident happened five or six days ago, and if no one disturbed the scene in the meantime, his Demon Hunter senses could likely directly find the criminal's footprints.
"Then let's set out."
"Alright, guys! Mount up!"
A group of soldiers marched grandly towards the tavern's stable.
The residents of Midcops uniformly opened a small crack in their wooden house doors.
With eyes mixed with fear and expectation, they watched the group of soldiers determined to bring the blasphemous sinner to justice.
Lann could understand this expression.
During the feudal era, it was hard to make a clear distinction between soldiers and bandits. Sometimes, because of their stronger organization, they seemed more harmful than bandits.
A team of riders splashed up black mud on the muddy country roads, heading into the distance.
Dunham was indeed half a day's journey from Midcops, but that was based on a farmer's pace.
They were all cavalrymen and arrived at the destination in just over an hour.
"You, huff, your horse isn't bad, Demon Hunter."
Philip had a bumpy ride for an hour and a half, leaving him breathing heavily towards the end.
They had arrived near this crossroads of faith.
The surrounding residents didn't dare to approach, but in their anger, they organized some able-bodied men wielding pitchforks and wooden sticks to act as a security patrol.
Philip and his subordinates in their Temeria standard armor earned trust, he spat to the side and cursed twice, and the armed peasants gave way.
But it's assumed that if this was just an ordinary traveling merchant, they wouldn't have passed easily without handing over some coins or goods.
After all, Lann already noticed a farmer wearing a garlic necklace.
After passing, Philip lightly complained to Lann.
"That's why we should finish this matter quickly, or these armed peasants, after tasting the benefits of blocking roads, will likely become part-time bandits during the off-season. Just you watch. In the coming months, there'll be more bandits here than elsewhere."
Lann neither nodded nor spoke, merely moving in rhythm with the horse.
In these matters, he saw even more clearly than Philip, who only relied on experience, but all this was still too far off for him now.
His education taught him that security problems were never just security problems.
When subdivided, they were essentially livelihood issues, road traffic issues, governance funding issues, etc.
If subdivided further, it became a vast topic that could blow one's mind.
Now he was just a Demon Hunter.
For now, he just needed to hunt down an "Ogre."
"We've arrived."
The young man imperceptibly interrupted Philip's complaints.
Perhaps the urgency of work made him forget his family's misfortune, and at this moment, Philip's temper wasn't so foul as to want to fight everyone he met.
They dismounted about ten meters away from this crossroads.
Philip handed the reins to his subordinates, and Lann dismounted as well; York stepped forward and took his reins.
"Thanks, man."
"You're a capable person, don't mention it."
The young man nodded at the Long Halberd Soldiers.
The Demon Hunter went full sensory as he approached the crossroads, scrutinizing every inch of land.
This place was indeed as Bernie had described: three female statues, several half-melted white candles, garlands, and offerings from believers.
On the peaceful land, only a puddle of blackened blood was splattered grotesquely.
Lann crouched slightly around the blood puddle, looking around.
"Sergeant, it might not match your report, but there are five or six sets of footprints here."
"Master, that's unavoidable. Not even the Celestial God could stop farmers from being nosy, right? Excluding the criminal and the victim, only three or four people have been here. Honestly, I want to applaud the farmers here."
"Alright~ applaud."
Lann replied perfunctorily, clapping his studded leather gloves once in mid-air.
The leisure came from the confidence in completing the task.
Mentos had completed the footprint identification; there were indeed five sets of footprints here, and the victim's footprints were identified immediately since they had seen his shoes.
Thus, they were promptly identified and excluded.
Among the remaining three, one was about forty kilograms, while another's stride indicated he was one hundred eighty centimeters tall.
Neither matched Lann's predicted results.
The remaining one, without a doubt, was the "Ogre."
The young man's gaze followed this set of footprints as he stood up and bypassed the blood to follow it.
Seeing this, Philip swung his iron gauntlet fiercely in the air.
"Aha! I knew he could do it! Follow him!"
Swords unsheathed from the soldiers' scabbards, and a cold and murderous aura hovered over them.
After all, they were seasoned veterans who had experienced genuine wars, excluding the vice of taking shortcuts.
Killing and preparing for killing—they were skilled in both.
Dunham to the east could access Lake Fick by water. To the north, there was a main road passing through Midcops. The west had a road directly leading to the coastal hill regions of western Velen.
It was a true regional transportation hub.
But only the south, riddled with swamps, lacked a decent road.
The footprints pointed south.
After entering the swamp, there were no good paths, making the soldiers somewhat irritable.
Luckily, Lann's Demon Hunter sight never lost track; in the muddy swamp, the criminal's footprints were even deeper.
"He walked back and forth several times at different times, and I think he might already know the trouble he's caused. Maybe there'll be traps along the way."
Lann tilted his head to report the situation to Philip.
The veteran leader remained unfazed.
"Just keep an eye out while scouting, but even if you miss something, it's fine; we're not working for the Duke for nothing."
Lann wasn't surprised by this calmness; he was also relaxed at this moment.
With a dozen men armed with swords going after a lone killer, there was no suspense at all.