642. Key Projects

Will's one-armed skeleton was somehow carried outside the city by his companions.

They did not choose to notify the city guards right away, because strictly speaking, their Mushroom Worship Cult was also an illegal organization. It was like gangsters fighting among themselves—no one would choose to call the police.

The morning wind passed through the Mushroom Forest, stirring the hems of their clothes.

Some people turned their faces away, their shoulders trembling softly. Others stared fixedly at the skeleton, their eyes red-rimmed.

"Will, he..." someone finally spoke, his voice caught in his throat. "He was such a good person. Even with only one arm left, he always rushed to help everyone and never complained. Why did bad things like this always have to happen to him?"

"Who did it?" another voice rang out, carrying anger he could not suppress. "Killing him wasn't enough—they even stripped all the flesh from his body—stripped—"

He could not go on.

"Unforgivable," someone said in a low voice. "We have to find that murderer."

Several voices of agreement came from the crowd.

They had only known Will for a little over a month, but to these vagrants who had once had no home to return to, the bond formed over that month was not light.

Will was the kind of person who would silently help others move stones, who would take out the Delicious Mushrooms he had gathered and share them with his companions.

A person like that should have lived.

Moreover, for these people who had originally been vagrants, it had not been easy to find a group to which they could entrust both body and heart. Losing a companion was like losing a family member.

A few hot-blooded youngsters had already turned around to look for handy weapons, but if they really had