CHAPTER 175: CHAPTER 174: SPIRITUAL VISION_2

Boudica was tall and strong, but she wasn’t actually that old—not even sixteen yet. The harsh living conditions of her tribe had forged her into a Barbarian warrior, yet her mind still carried a child’s curiosity.

Stepping onto the streets, her eyes roamed curiously over the surroundings; everything here seemed novel and intriguing.

"Where do you want to go?"

Taming a wild beast required not only a whip but also soothing words.

Boudica’s temper flared quickly but also subsided quickly. Easily distracted by the vibrant surroundings, she soon forgot what had just happened and blurted out an answer when he spoke.

"That skinny Bamboo Pole said so! Totanish has the best spicy liquor; even a Big Guy would droop after one cup."

"Her name is Tiffany, and this place is called Totnes," Lance said, a slight headache forming as he listened to her. He could tell this girl just wanted a drink.

"Not a sheep’s horse!" Boudica shouted angrily, clearly dissatisfied with Lance’s correction, as if he were mocking her accent.

Her voice immediately drew the attention of the people around them, their gazes mostly filled with disdain and ridicule. She couldn’t stand being looked down upon and instantly raised her War Halberd, yelling at the onlookers.

"What are you gawking at! You bunch of morons!"

"Let’s go." Lance, feeling the stares from all around, found it a bit much despite his usual indifference to saving face. He quickly pulled her away—bringing her out was turning out to be rather embarrassing.

"I’ll chop you little shrimps!" Boudica refused to give in, still shouting even as Lance dragged her along.

Her reaction, however, only incited laughter from the crowd, making Lance part of the joke as well.

No matter where they were, in the eyes of those who considered themselves civilized, the Barbarian Tribes were always at the bottom of the social hierarchy. Typically, merchants wouldn’t hire a Barbarian as a personal guard, let alone a woman.

After they had moved some distance away, the commotion finally began to subside. Lance looked at the still-defiant Boudica with a touch of annoyance.

I really feel like punching her to a pulp!

But in an instant, Lance calmed down, realizing that getting angry was foolish.

Boudica had never left the mountains before. Now, transitioning from one environment to another, it was somewhat unrealistic to expect her to adapt in such a short time. It would be better to find a way to help her integrate faster.

If Lance had remained angry, it would have been straightforward; at worst, she would have endured a beating. But Boudica felt uneasy seeing how quickly he had calmed down and the scrutinizing look he gave her.

"You wanted to drink, right? Let’s play a game," Lance said with a grin.

To Boudica, however, that smile seemed incredibly sinister.

Alas, the hero couldn’t resist temptation and surrendered to the devil.

"What kind of game?" Boudica licked her lips. She hadn’t touched alcohol since leaving her tribe.

"It’s simple. For every word’s pronunciation you learn, I’ll give you a cup of liquor. For every order of mine you resist, I take one away."

"Deal!"

Piece of cake! Boudica didn’t give it much thought and agreed at once.

"Repeat after me: Tiffany."

"Kick-Fan-Knee," Boudica mimicked awkwardly, her mouth struggling with the sounds.

"Wrong. It’s Tiffany."

"Ti-what-ny?"

"..."

Lance walked along the streets, while Boudica trailed behind, muttering to herself. Judging by the way she was scratching her head and looking utterly frustrated, she was on the verge of a breakdown.

Still, her breakdown is better than my suffering.

After finding her something to occupy her, Lance could finally observe the Outer City’s environment in peace. How should I put it? It still has a transitional feel.

The part near the city wall wasn’t much different from the Central City District. Many people worked inside but lived outside because it was much cheaper.

This area was actually still under official control, but the further out one went, the more the situation spiraled out of control. Buildings were illegally constructed in a frenzy, built taller and wider, clinging to and pieced together with one another, forming a twisted, grotesque, and utterly unaesthetic cluster of structures.

Even the alleys were occupied, either piled high with miscellaneous junk or fenced off to raise chickens, ducks, and other livestock—every inch of land seemingly squeezed dry to accommodate more people.

Order was somewhat present where the main roads were visible, as these led to the farms on the outskirts. The essential supplies needed by the city flowed through here, much like the city’s arteries. Anyone who dared to cause trouble here was bound to get a beating.

Even the local gangs would actively maintain order here in exchange for a space to survive under the official radar.

But deviate even slightly from the main road, and it became a land of unfettered sin.

As Lance walked along, he suddenly reached out and grabbed someone passing by. Only when their bodies shifted slightly did Lance see the hand reaching for his pocket.

"The local gangs are really rude..."

Lance was rather speechless. I’ve been targeted? Am I really such an easy mark?

Are they underestimating me? Or Boudica?

"What are you doing? Let go of me!" The person struggled and shouted. Just then, several people emerged from the shadows of the alley and surrounded them, looking quite menacing.

"Thought I’d caught a petty thief, didn’t expect to poke a hornet’s nest," Lance said quietly, a smile playing on his lips.

Lance, unfazed, simply let go of the man, who scrambled back to his group and immediately turned to yell at Lance.

"Idiot! If you know what’s good for you, hand over your money now!"

"Enough muttering. Go teach them a lesson," Lance said, taking the War Halberd from Boudica’s hand and snapping her out of her fixated state.

Boudica, who had been tormented by vocabulary all this time, suddenly looked up at the men. The next second, filled with rage, she charged forward, throwing a punch and yelling.

"Daphne!"

"I taught you Tiffany..." Lance couldn’t help but feel a mix of amusement and exasperation upon hearing this.

"Tiffany!" Boudica finally got it right, but the way she swung her fists suggested she still had quite a grudge against the name.

How could these few thugs be a match for Boudica? In a couple of moves, they were all knocked down, likely to spend the better part of their lives in bed.

"HAH! Tif-fuh-nee." Boudica, having vented her frustration, seemed much better. She finally pronounced Tiffany’s name correctly, albeit with a slight accent that didn’t prevent understanding.

"Let’s go. Don’t waste time."

Lance noticed some lurking eyes. If it weren’t for those observers, he would have sacrificed the thugs by now.

He had come to Totnes not only to acquire goods unavailable in his territory but also for the refugees. How would these refugees arrive?

Quite simply, they would walk along the riverbanks. During his time on the ship, he had seen groups of refugees on the roads along both sides of the river. The largest gathering place was on the western side of the city.

After passing through streets still lined with discernible buildings, they entered a vast shantytown. The conditions here were even worse; the people milling about either had fierce eyes or wore numb expressions.

Beside them, a small mountain of garbage reeked to the heavens. Adults, like busy worker ants, sorted through the trash, picking out anything useful.

Some children played among the rubbish heaps. A few wore tattered clothing, while others had nothing at all, their emaciated bodies exposed.

When Lance passed by, they stopped their activities and approached. The fierce, greedy glint unintentionally revealed in their gazes showed that bestial instincts had long since dominated most of their souls; they possessed even less innocence than Boudica.

The Central City District has so many people, producing so much garbage every day. So why don’t you see much of it on the streets there?

Because all the garbage ended up here, where it was sorted, recycled, and reused. They acted like decomposers, extracting nourishment from this waste and doggedly surviving.

I wonder how many of Totnes’s proclaimed million residents actually live like this.