When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Saint? The remaining people gradually understood what was happening. According to the Holy Grandson, Jeanne was not a witch, but a saint with power as strong as a witch.

At first, most people found it absurd, but after thinking about it, they gained some understanding.

That's right, Horn was the Holy Grandson appointed by the Holy Father, so Barnett, who wanted to kill Horn, was bad, a devil, and Jeanne, who saved Horn, was good, and must be holy.

It couldn't be that the Holy Grandson was a devil, right?

But this was tantamount to saying that they had just helped the devil and misunderstood the saint Jeanne.

This inevitably made people uneasy.

After the crowd calmed down, some of those who had cursed Jeanne, and even thrown stones, broke out in cold sweats.

Their expressions were evasive, especially Pick, Alina, and Andok, who had been pointed out earlier. They hesitated to speak, but desperately hid their bodies behind the crowd.

"Indeed, the devil Barnett was too good at confusing people, causing you to misunderstand our saint Jeanne." Horn cleared his throat, deliberately putting on an understanding posture, "These are all the devil's fault, he made you do this, am I right?"

"Yes, yes, yes, the devil confused us."

"As expected of the Holy Grandson, he sees everything clearly!"

"Tsk, that's true, but you have all helped the devil, I'm afraid there are some devil's followers among you." Horn spread his hands, putting on a troubled look.

"Impossible, absolutely impossible."

"Holy Grandson, I want to report that the youngest son of the Patmont family is Lectore's child! He must be a devil!"

"I'm not a devil, that's my own sister, how could I be..."

"Sir, I want to atone for my sins, I have a hundred-year indulgence ticket here, can I exchange it?"

In an instant, hundreds of villagers exploded like a pot, starting to clamor.

They cursed and accused, pushed each other, argued red-faced, and scrambled to report which family was the devil, in order to clear their own suspicions.

The villagers, who had been in step, tore at each other, shoes fell off, robes were scattered, the accused punched the accusers, the accusers punched the peacemakers, and the peacemakers punched passersby.

This chaotic scene left Horn with a question mark on his forehead.

I didn't say anything, why are they fighting each other?

Are you guys green skins? What are you all starving to, and you still have the energy to fight?

Self-righteously believing, self-righteously blindly following, self-righteously being extreme, only having five minutes of memory, and changing their minds with just a random word from someone else.

Horn really couldn't understand whether only the farmers of this other world were like this, or whether everyone in the Middle Ages was like this?

"Alright, alright, I see what everyone means, everyone is very willing to help me find the devil's followers." Clapping his hands hard, Horn immediately stopped their behavior, "In that case, I have a suggestion."

Releasing Jeanne's waist, Horn stepped on the muddy water, one foot deep and one foot shallow, and came to Barnett's still twitching corpse.

Laboriously stripping off Barnett's plate armor, Horn dragged it to the side.

Casually picking up Jeanne's pitchfork, Horn stood in front of all the villagers again: "The devil's followers definitely can't attack the devil, you come up one by one, and stab the devil named Barnett with this pitchfork, and I'll know you're innocent."

After saying this, Horn's meaningful gaze swept over those armed farmers and wealthy farmers hiding behind most of the farmers.

They were visibly nervous.

"Please help me supervise, whoever doesn't stab, or doesn't stab deep enough, is a devil's follower, and report them to me, how about that?"

Sticking the pitchfork into the green grass, Horn returned to Jeanne's side and whispered for a while.

Jeanne nodded heavily and turned around and left.

Standing in front of the pitchfork, most of the farmers in gray and yellow linen clothes were still hesitating.

They put their heads together, in groups, whispering, and encouraging each other.

Although Barnett was a knight, he was at least a nobleman, and he usually had a lot of prestige, how dare they attack a nobleman?

A dead nobleman is a nobleman, and a nobleman's corpse is also a noble corpse.

"The rain is getting heavier and heavier, and it's getting late." Horn casually reminded them, "Originally, the devil's ban on entering the forest should be abolished, but I'm afraid that the devil's followers will run into the forest to escape, what should I do?"

The whispering became more intense.

Soon, Jeanne finally returned, carrying two heavy bulging sacks.

It must be said that after awakening, Jeanne's strength has increased a lot, these two sacks weigh sixty pounds each, but she doesn't look like she's struggling to carry them.

Putting the two sacks at her feet, Horn opened one of the pockets and showed it to the villagers.

In the sack, there were white rice cakes, full of tempting aroma.

"To compensate everyone for the loss of not being able to enter the forest, these one hundred and twenty pounds of rice cakes will be given to everyone for dinner." Horn tightened the pocket of the sack, "Stab the devil once, and get half a pound of rice cakes."

Half a pound of rice cakes!

What a terrible word, they haven't eaten for five days, and they're living purely on eating dirt, grass, and the remaining rice bran.

A whole half pound of rice cakes! For adults and children alike! The sound of swallowing saliva was endless, that damn devil Barnett actually hid one hundred and twenty pounds of rice cakes?!

Finally, a figure walked out of the crowd, it was the young monk from before, Horn remembered his name was Armand.

Horn raised an eyebrow, thinking he was going to cause trouble again, but what he didn't expect was that the young man lightly pulled out the pitchfork that had been melted by lightning to only a pointed tooth, and walked to Barnett's corpse.

He pulled down Barnett's wool pants, revealing his white butt, and directly inserted the pitchfork into his buttock, until it reached the root of the pointed tooth.

Pulling out the pitchfork, the little monk covered his nose and stuck the blood-stained pitchfork back into the ground.

"Where's my rice cake?"

"Do you have a pocket?"

Seeing the little monk raise his cloth robe lapel and temporarily make a pocket, Horn didn't waste any words, picked up a large wooden spoon for holding grain, and scooped a spoonful into his pocket.

"Damn it, that's the wooden spoon that the knight used to collect grain, that spoonful is much more than half a pound!" Someone in the crowd cursed with heartache.

Soon, the second person appeared, then the third and fourth, and several more bloody holes appeared on the knight's butt.

Like an avalanche, more and more people surged up, even starting to scramble for the pitchfork, or reporting that others didn't stab deep enough.

Some people, in order to prevent others from gossiping, even had to stab several times in a row, but whether this was to avoid suspicion or to vent their anger was unknown.

Under the pressure of the situation, those armed farmers and wealthy farmers still had to pick up the pitchfork and receive their rice cakes.

After the two bags of rice cakes were finished, everyone ignored the rain, and didn't even bother to light a fire, simply holding them in their hands and eating them raw.

They had been hungry for so many days, they couldn't hold back anymore.

Many people swallowed it in three or two bites, and the remaining few who still had some rationality only ate two bites, and the rest was kept as reserve food.

Who knows when the flood will stop?

After eating a few rice cakes, Horn was ready to start dealing with the aftermath of Barnett's death.

Pinching his nose, Horn stood in front of Barnett's corpse.

With hundreds of bloody holes on his body, plus the warm and humid weather, and the circling mosquitoes, Barnett's corpse fermented into an extremely foul odor in just half an hour.

But no matter what, the corpse had to be dealt with, after all, the testimony of the common people could be said to be from starvation, and the bishop has always been indifferent.

But if there is solid evidence of the corpse, then even if Barnett is just an unknown country knight, there will be a thorough investigation, and even a demon hunter may be sent.

A knight is considered to have entered the ranks of the nobility to some extent.

In noble society, family and dignity are the most important, and if the church is negligent and does not do anything, maybe Barnett's distant relatives will come to investigate and put pressure on them.

In order to lighten the burden on his shoulders when he escapes, Horn must destroy the corpse and eliminate the traces.

Horn originally wanted to ask someone to burn the corpse, but the rain was too heavy, so he couldn't light a fire in the wooden house to roast the corpse, right?

Even if a fire was lit, with such heavy rain, how could it be completely burned?

Bury it? Wouldn't that leave evidence?

Leave it first and wait for the rain to stop before lighting a fire? Still not possible, who knows when the rain will stop, and if there's a plague, it'll be troublesome.

After thinking about it, Horn still called a few strong young men, stripped off the knight's armor and clothes, cut up his face with the falchion-pointed knife that Barnett wore, and together threw him into the flood.

Looking at Barnett floating away in the flood, Horn secretly pondered in his heart.

The water is so strong, when the flood recedes, Barnett will either rot beyond recognition, or he will already be in the sea.

Thank you for inviting me, stealing traffic from the Spring Festival Gala.