Who taught him to restore the country like this?

"Thank you for clearing up my confusion, Mark." Ron said with a perfectly appropriate, distant and friendly smile, "Here's your reward."

He raised his right hand and gently rubbed his slender index finger and thumb.

Snapped!

A crisp snap of fingers.

The next moment, two thick cardboard boxes exuding the aroma of wheat appeared out of thin air on the snow on his left and right sides.

The lid of the cardboard box was half open, revealing the neatly stacked and tempting long loaves of bread inside. The rich aroma of food instantly overwhelmed the smell of blood and domineeringly penetrated into every hungry nostril.

"!!!"

The cloudy eyes of those civilians, who were originally lifeless and shrouded in despair and pain, suddenly burst into an incredible and extremely longing light like lit candles.

Mark's eyes also showed shock and disbelief.

Just answering two simple questions can get you such a generous reward?

Ron took in everyone's instantly ignited desire and shock, and the smile on his lips deepened, but he said nothing.

He turned around, no longer looking at the bread, and seemed to ignore the burning gaze behind him. He walked straight to various parts of the square and began to drag the evil god believers who were knocked unconscious or smashed to pieces by the elemental puppets and were dying to an open space like dragging torn sacks.

In the square, after Ron turned and left, the two boxes of bread attracted everyone's attention like a magnet.

However, unexpectedly, these civilians who were on the verge of starvation did not rush in to loot like wild beasts.

They exchanged glances with each other, and there was desire and struggle in their eyes, as well as an almost instinctive sense of caution and order that was rooted in long-term suffering.

Finally, all eyes were focused on Mark.

Mark understood the looks.

He took a deep breath, and the mixture of blood, bread aroma and cold air seemed to give him a little strength. He straightened his hunched back and walked towards Ron who was collecting the "trophies".

"Sir." Mark stopped a few steps behind Ron and shouted with all his courage.

"Hmm?" Ron casually threw an unconscious cultist onto the crowd with a dull sound.

He turned around and looked at Mark with just the right amount of questioning on his face.

"Please allow me to express my deepest gratitude to you on behalf of the survivors of Saige Town!"

Mark bowed deeply, his forehead almost touching his knees, and said in a sincere and heavy tone: "Thank you for saving us from these demons. We will always remember your kindness."

"It's just a small favor, you're welcome." Ron's tone was flat, as if he had only done something insignificant.

"Excuse me, sir... could you tell us your honorable name?" Mark stood up, his cloudy eyes filled with earnestness.

"Ron," came the terse reply.

"Master Ron..." Mark repeated the name, as if he wanted to engrave it in his heart.

He paused, his voice taking on a hint of cautious inquiry, his eyes fixed on Ron's expression: "Please...excuse me, but where are you planning to go next?"

From the question this gentleman asked just now, we can know that he is not from the Holy Unified Empire.

"Hmm..." Ron's gaze drifted towards the leaden sky in the distance. He pondered for a moment, "For now, there's no clear destination."

Upon hearing this, the old man immediately knelt down on his knees on the cold snow and kowtowed deeply.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked in surprise.

"Lord Ron, you are a powerful and benevolent lord," Mark raised his head, his forehead covered with snow and mud, and pleaded, "Please... become a hero of our Saige Town!"

When he made this request, there was a clear lack of confidence in his tone.

Because this "hero" is not just a verbal title, but a position.

It is a position established by each town to protect itself.

Anyone who becomes a hero will gain the faith of everyone in the town and will also shoulder the responsibility of protecting the town.

This is also the reason why Mark lacks confidence.

Because the current situation in Saige Town is undoubtedly extremely bad, no one would be willing to be a hero in such a small town.

If you understand this, then why come to ask Ron for help?

That was because of Ron's kind act, which gave them hope of survival.

Instead of doing nothing and waiting to die, it is better to boldly fight for the future.

After hearing Mark's request, Ron did not respond immediately, but turned his head to look at the people in the square not far away.

More than twenty pairs of eyes were focused here nervously and unblinkingly in the wind and snow - they placed their last hope of survival on this mysterious and powerful adult.

"Hero..." Ron uttered these two words softly, the corners of his mouth slowly curved upwards, and he let out a meaningless chuckle.

This chuckle, to Mark's ears, seemed to express dissatisfaction.

It’s over… after all, it still doesn’t work…

Just when Mark's heart sank to the bottom, ready to accept rejection and even possible anger, he heard an unexpected answer:

"Since you trust me so much, I'll be a hero." Ron said in a relaxed tone.

boom!

Mark felt as if something exploded in his head.

The huge, incredible ecstasy was like a surging wave that instantly washed away all the despair and humility. He even wondered if he was hallucinating because of excessive cold and hunger.

"Are you...really willing to be our hero?" Mark confirmed with a trembling voice.

"The name of a hero carries the responsibility of protection." Ron said calmly, "I know what I'm doing."

After hearing this, Mark's eyes suddenly became hot and tears streamed down his face. He immediately kowtowed to express his gratitude.

"Alright," Ron said, holding back his enthusiastic gesture and helping him up. "Take them inside to avoid the cold, and then distribute the food to them. I'll talk to you later about the town's situation."

"Yes, Lord Ron."

Mark bowed deeply and respectfully, then turned around and walked quickly towards the survivors who were waiting in the square with a long-lost, hopeful pace.

After a while, cheers were heard from the square.

Ron stood there, the wind and snow blowing past his face. He could clearly feel a purer and more resolute force of faith slowly gathering within him.

"Although the amount is small, it's a good start." Ron whispered in his heart, with a satisfied smile on his lips.

He calmed down and sensed the number of contestants entering the Kingdom of God this time.

Including myself, there are twelve of us in total.

Two of them were not far away from him.

In order to avoid being targeted by a joint attack later, he must strike first.

However, the God of Light went to such great lengths to deal with him, and the opponent he arranged for him must be no ordinary person.

With his current power of faith, it is not safe to take the initiative to go to the door. He needs to improve it further, at least to the level of performing second-level skills.

But obtaining the power of faith through this conventional means is too slow.

He needed to take a shortcut.

As for the fastest shortcut, it is naturally... sacrifice to the evil god!

Ron's gaze fell on the evil cultists piled up in front of him, and the curve of his mouth gradually deepened.

He deliberately spared the lives of these evil believers, not to persuade them to reform.

"A dozen or so followers of the evil god should be able to reach the power of faith required to perform a second-tier skill..."

While thinking about this, Ron searched these evil cultists for materials for the sacrificial ceremony.

After all the people in the square were moved into nearby houses to avoid the cold, the heroes of Saige Town began to perform sacrifices more professionally than the evil cultists.

Chapter 138: Coming for me?

Saige Town, in a dilapidated house.

Dim light filtered through the broken windows, casting mottled shadows on the dusty ground.

The air was filled with a complex aroma of cheap tobacco, sweat, blood, and the faint lingering fragrance of low-level healing potions.

The twenty or so survivors huddled in groups of three or five on piles of grass or rags in the corner like a frightened herd of animals, gasping for breath.

"Lord Ron."

Seeing the steady figure step into the house, the survivors struggled to stand up and salute, but the movement affected their wounds, causing them to groan in pain.

"No need to salute." Ron's voice was calm and majestic, with an unquestionable sense of power, which instantly calmed the restless atmosphere in the room.

He walked straight to the center of the room - where there was a carefully wiped, relatively intact armchair, and next to it were two boxes of bread that had hardly been touched.

Mark stood respectfully by his side.

Ron's eyes swept across the bread box, and then across those survivors who, although they had been given food, dared only to tear off a tiny piece to fill their stomachs, and whose faces still bore the shadow of long-term hunger. He understood.

It’s not that they weren’t hungry, but they regarded this precious food as their last lifeline and made the most sober and desperate long-term plan - to hold on for one more day.

This almost cruel rationality that Ron still maintained in the desperate situation made him silent. He did not say much. These breads were the seeds he gave them. How to use them was their choice.

He sat down, and the chair creaked slightly, but it inexplicably gave everyone in the room a sense of peace of mind. It was as if the core of this dilapidated house had finally been found.

"Tell me about Saige Town and the situation in Kanare County." Ron looked at Mark who was standing respectfully, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

"Yes." Mark took a deep breath, deep fear and sorrow flashed in his cloudy eyes, and he began to slowly recount his nightmare-like experience over the past month.

The source of all this is the terrifying disaster that almost only exists in ancient legends and taboo books - the end of dusk.

Before the Bright Moon Calendar, that is, before the birth of the power of the Hero, this world was ruled by another power that symbolized destruction and was in the hands of the Evil God Cult.

And the end of dusk is the disaster it brings to this world.

Wherever it passes, life is cut off, all things wither, the earth turns into scorched earth, the sky is shrouded in filth, and the world becomes a paradise for demons and evil cultists to revel in wanton carnival.

It was a true era of hell, with countless lives lost and the flame of civilization flickering in despair.

Until the power of the hero came into being, like the first ray of light piercing the eternal night, saving the world from endless darkness.

In the end, the person who possessed the power of [Hero] destroyed the once rampant evil cult, and the power that was regarded as ominous disappeared from then on.

It opened the Bright Moon Calendar, bringing over six hundred years of relative peace and stability, steadily suppressing the power of the evil god.