The Boss King actually disguised himself as a novice village chief?! Chapter 282 - 282 236 The Pied Piper in Flowery Clothing

282: Chapter 236 “The Pied Piper in Flowery Clothing 282: Chapter 236 “The Pied Piper in Flowery Clothing Lind had never thought of imrsing himself in the sea of knowledge, neither as his pre-traversal self nor as the noble’s son, Lind, because he never had much passion for text.

But once he was able to extract strength from it, that sense of imrsion beca irresistible, impossible to reject.

“These are the poetry collections you requested, sir,” the butler selected a thick stack of book and said, “Strictly according to your instructions, each one cos from a secret belief.”

Without a doubt, these books were all “forbidden texts” in the predominantly Three Gods-worshiping Rand Kingdom, where the Sun’s Testant was the mainstream faith.

There was even a trend of hunting witches…

Of course, the Rand Kingdom had never seen a wizard, that was rely a murderous asshole venting his violent tendencies.

Yet even followers claiming to be of the Moon Witch Yuni were bound and burned at the stake, showing just how difficult it was to preserve this knowledge in the eyes of so fanatical believers.

Lind looked at the six books, undoubtedly the greatest haul he had ever had.

If all were true, it ant that as long as he found six Magic Potions similar to these religions, he could grow more branches on his Knight’s tree once more.

“‘The Pied Piper of Halin,’ is this a piece of music?” Lind thumbed through a thin volu.

“Yes, a story about rats,” the butler nodded, needing to demonstrate his usefulness by answering all of the new lord’s questions at this mont.

“I have heard a similar story,” Lind said.

“A man dressed in colorful clothes playing a flute, claiming he could capture rats.

So, at the villagers’ request, he plays his flute, and the rats swarm out as if bewitched and jump into the river under his command.

But when the villagers refuse to pay his fee, he plays the flute again, only this ti, it was not rats he led away but the children.”

Looking through the music, Lind said, “It’s a fairy tale we commonly hear.

I always found the idea of controlling rats with a flute interesting, even though I now see it as rather grueso.”

The butler said, “Children are always innocent, easily overlooking cruel things.”

“Where did it co from?” Lind asked.

“A circus,” the butler recalled.

“The circus ringmaster, that Bard, wrote this score himself.

It’s said he even delved into so Magic to ensure the music could spread farther.”

“Created a power system for it?

A circus religion?” Lind was amazed.

Then he thought about the long recorder, the ability of Wailing to control rats, and the flute players he had encountered on the road.

He imdiately ordered the long recorder to be brought to him, and played “The Pied Piper of Halin” according to the score.

The Blessed Weapon, which had never succeeded before, suddenly began to emit light!

“He really was a genius,” Lind marveled at the other’s creativity.

Regrettably, with only the music score but no related Magic Potion formula, Lind thought he might have to capture a few flute players and have his wizards attempt to reverse-engineer it.

Even if he couldn’t use it himself, he believed his bards wouldn’t refuse this power.

Universal drug use was necessary to keep up with the evolution of the era.

The second poetry collection: “Lion’s Hymn.”

“It cos from a small sect called the Bloodthirsty Gang, whose mbers were as obsessed with blood as life itself and revered killing,” the butler recounted.

“I still rember the scene when the Duke returned from exterminating that little gang, a lion as tall as an elephant that required dozens of people to drag on a cart.

Its blood was scalding, and those tainted with the lion’s blood developed red rashes for months afterward, even forming a devastating epidemic.”

“A sect that worshipped a magic beast?”

In an era when the average power did not reach that of a Great Knight, the sect’s “God” was killed by a group of soldiers, which probably ant its power was disappointing.

“The spread of a religion has nothing to do with the deity itself, sir,” the butler said.

“You’re right,” Lind flipped through the “Lion’s Hymn,” finding a Magic Potion formula amid the nearly wailing and howling onomatopoeic words.

Unfortunately, the power of a Great Knight was the limit of this strength.

If he could gain a new Crest Power, Lind might not be too disdainful of the strength of a Great Knight.

Providing a new Crest is more important than a new ability.

The third poetry collection, “Miss Moon”, a collection related to the moon, is too similar to the Moon Witch in the authority of God.

“This is a collection from the Black Marsh Kingdom,” said the butler, “The Duke once eradicated a village of an illegal gathering, containing sothing adept at concealing itself.

The Duke’s black iron hooves turned that village into ruins, and this banned book is the harvest from the aftermath of that battle.”

The fourth poetry collection, “Lion’s Hymn Under the Golden Oath of Rand’s Army”, Lind was sowhat surprised.

“It cos from Hedwin,” said the butler, bowing his head.

“Hedwin?”

The formula for the Magic Potion would be handed over to him by the “Her Majesty the Queen”, to whom he had sworn allegiance.

The fifth poetry collection, “Along the Riverside”, Lind tried to distinguish which type of religion it belonged to, but found it to be more like a song, though not one that naturally ca with a lody like “The Flower-Clad Piper.”

Even the butler shook his head, indicating no clarity.

Not every collection must have a reason for being; they might just be here due to so accidents.

The sixth poetry collection, “The Last Refuge”.

…

Two fast horses galloped along the trail, and as the morning sun pierced the horizon, they finally arrived at the valley.

“How could this be?”

They looked at the Dark Night Orchard, now in ruins from a massive fire, still gasping for air.

“Are we sure we haven’t co to the wrong place?” asked the person on the left.

“Since they agreed to co to Raven City,” replied the person on the right, “the brothers from Black Fire must have been attacked by sothing, perhaps an army.”

“Is there any enemy nearby?”

“No one would dare co close, except for those Calamities.”

The two dismounted and searched the ruins, trying to find survivors, whether from the brothers of Black Fire or the unknown enemy.

But what they saw next shocked them, an innurable amount of charred corpses with twisted bones, their deaths miserable as if each had their heads chopped off.

But what really surprised them was not these bodies, but why there were so many people in the Dark Night Orchard of the Black Fire brothers.

“The brothers from Black Fire are missing.”

“They were not truly loyal.”

“Then we’ll go back and report.”

“To whom?”

“The City Lord, or…

Prince Sévin?”

The two were silent, as the political intrigue and underlying currents ran deep within Raven City.

As couriers, they only hoped to keep their lives safe, not to get dragged into any side’s conflict.

But now it seed a bit difficult.

The choice was never in their hands.