Heavenly Justice Descends

Although Duke Duncan's Territory sounds quite pleasant, the natives still habitually refer to it as the Barren Land because the place is truly impoverished.

The Duncan Family, who have resided here for generations, are not wealthy either, at least not when compared to the established Noblemen living in the Province of Roses.

Hamilton Duncan was fortunate to be a member of this sprawling family.

Hamilton Duncan was also unfortunate to be a member of this impoverished family.

Being born into a Nobleman's family placed him at a height countless commoners could only dream of, but it also burdened him with extremely heavy responsibilities.

However, regardless of anything else, Baron Hamilton was a Nobleman, the lord of this land. To the impoverished people living here, he was the very master of their fate.

The residents of Saint Brieuc Fortress felt fortunate because Baron Hamilton was not a greedy or tyrannical lord.

He inherited the authority of lord from his father and spent over twenty years developing the sparsely populated, dilapidated village into the small town of over two thousand people it is today. He could be considered a very competent successor.

He couldn't be described as loving his people like children, but he never committed the scoundrel's act of exercising his first night rights.

The tax burden in Saint Brieuc Fortress was very low, so small merchants were happy to come here to make a living, bringing some prosperity and vitality to the town. The tenant farmers could eat their fill, and during festivals, they could afford new clothes and some meat, which was enough.

If Lady Luck had not favored Baron Hamilton, he would have stayed here peacefully, slowly awaiting the day of his natural death.

That is, assuming no accidents occurred.

Very few people could enjoy their old age in peace in this chaotic place, whether they were honest commoners, merchants with wealth rivaling kingdoms, or powerful adventurers.

What kind of place is the Barren Land?

When this place is mentioned, people can think of countless less-than-pleasant names, such as a paradise for criminals, a hell for slaves, a penal colony, a place without laws.

In short, the Barren Land is a godforsaken backwater, the kind of place that seems to bring bad luck just by mentioning it.

"Poor mountains and harsh waters breed stubborn people." The harsh living conditions forged a hardy local character. People die here every day, and even simple brawls stemming from trivial arguments can claim several lives.

However, the frighteningly high mortality rate has not dampened the enthusiasm of gold prospectors. The Barren Land is a veritable criminal paradise, and also a birthplace of wealth and opportunity.

Looking northwest from Saint Brieuc Fortress, no more than thirty miles away, the majestic Ambrisset Mountains lie silently across the land.

The Ambrisset Mountains are the territory of monsters. From low-level goblins to high-level dragons, any monster you can imagine exists there.

Danger often accompanies opportunity. The majestic mountains hide countless treasures within: precious timber, rare medicinal herbs, scarce ores, and dazzling magic crystals, all of which can make one instantly rich.

The impoverished people living in the Barren Land often hear rumors of someone hunting a monster and obtaining its magic crystal, exchanging it for hundreds or even thousands of gold coins.

What do hundreds of gold coins mean? It means you could buy a manor in the Barren Land, marry ten or eight wives, purchase dozens of servants and slaves, and acquire hundreds of acres of fertile land.

What do thousands of gold coins mean? It means you could buy a two-story villa with a garden in the kingdom's capital, and with the remaining money deposited in a bank, the interest alone would allow you to live luxuriously for the rest of your life.

Therefore, countless adventurers, lost to their obsession with money, poured into the Ambrisset Mountains, their faces etched with the pursuit and madness of wealth.

However, only two or three out of every ten adventurers who entered would emerge alive, and among those who survived, very few gained substantial profits.

The Ambrisset Mountains have stood here for who knows how many tens of thousands of years, burying the bones of countless speculators, yet successors still flock there like a river of fish, never diminishing.

To this day, no one knows how vast the mountain range is, because no one has ever explored its depths. Even the people living in the Barren Land don't know what lies on the other side of the mountains.

All people know is: ordinary people who enter will die, and adventurers who enter have a one-in-nine chance of survival.

It's like a thousand people having a thousand Hamlets in their eyes.

Some would say: "The Ambrisset is hell!"

Some would say: "The Ambrisset is heaven!"

For over ninety-nine percent of the commoners living in the Barren Land, whether the Ambrisset Mountains are heaven or hell has nothing to do with them.

The status of commoner means they can only quietly listen to the birth of a legend, sigh a few times, earn their keep through unceasing labor day and night, then get married and have children, watch their sons get married and have children, their grandsons get married and have children, and finally die peacefully.

What a nightmare!

Renard couldn't help but shiver, a gloating smile appearing on his face. He then kicked away a stray cat huddled in a corner for warmth.

The few lackeys behind him couldn't help but clap and cheer, "Oh! Young Master Renard is so amazing, he got rid of another eyesore."

Renard Duncan, the only son of Baron Hamilton, the lord of Saint Brieuc Fortress, had just turned sixteen this year. He was widely known among the populace as a second-generation heir.

Compared to the benevolent Baron Hamilton, he possessed all the vices befitting a nobleman: arrogance, conceit, lechery, and cruelty. He also possessed a cunning and slyness that ordinary noblemen lacked.

Ever since he became a man on his own maidservant, he had become even more arrogant and overbearing, throwing the entire Saint Brieuc Fortress into chaos.

Two years ago, for the sake of the territory's peace and stability, Baron Hamilton gritted his teeth and sent him to the Constantinople Academy thousands of miles away for advanced studies, even exhausting most of the family's fortune in the process.

The residents finally enjoyed a long-lost peace, praising the lord's greatness and wisdom.

However, it wasn't long before Renard was expelled and sent home to reflect for fighting and peeking at female classmates bathing. This was something no one had anticipated; even Baron Hamilton found it unbelievable.

His son, though mischievous, understood how to read the situation. How could he cause trouble at the academy?

When pressed repeatedly, the young man remained silent, his mood growing more volatile. The residents began to anticipate their tragic future.

The snow fell harder and harder, but Renard paid no mind, leading his lackeys on a stroll through the deserted streets.

To call it a stroll would be an understatement; it was more like him wreaking havoc on the townspeople.

Perhaps his excessive actions angered the heavens, because after he kicked over an old man's dried vegetable cart, retribution descended.

Several thunderclaps suddenly echoed through the sky. The esteemed Young Master Renard fell to the ground, his eyes rolling back, foam appearing at his lips. Moments later, he breathed his last.