The fall of Mario Fortress was like the gates of hell yawning open, releasing the most primal, most savage desires and fears imprisoned in the deepest reaches of the human heart.
When the last organized resistance was crushed beneath sword and blade, when Count Mario's shrill screams turned into a wisp of green smoke in the flames and drifted away on the wind.
The entire castle, along with the wealth accumulated within it, the old order, and the last fragile disguise called civilization, was completely reduced to a lawless, blood-soaked hunting ground.
Discipline, royal law, humanity, mercy... These shackles and fine robes that had once bound—or rather adorned—the army and society melted away in an instant like thin ice beneath a blazing sun before fury pent up for far too long, naked greed, and the instinct to survive.
Once a starving wolf pack tasted blood and fresh meat, it could never return to docility.
Slaughter, plunder, possession, destruction became the only language.
Luo Yao did not stop it, nor could he.
To a certain extent, he even condoned and guided this out-of-control torrent.
After the initial killing and chaos had slightly subsided, he took his personal guards and began patrolling the ruined streets, treading through pools of blood and rubble.
This was not to restore order, but to plunder more efficiently—to seize the resources that could support this rebel army of theirs and let it continue surviving, continue fighting.
He caught a local thug who had slipped toward a shopfront amid the chaos, trying to steal a few valuables.
The man was so frightened he nearly pissed himself, and the moment the cold edge of a sword pressed against his throat, he immediately poured out everything he knew like beans from a bamboo tube.
"M-military lord, spare me! I'll tell