Black mist descends, and I and the witches take refuge in the dungeon.

"By the way, there's another kind of fruit that's very common lately, which you put in your mouth to chew. That's not good either, so don't eat too much of it."

That stuff, even hyenas that eat too much of it will be unable to open their mouths. Many people, after confessing at the Vatican, would chew another one as soon as they left and spit it out at the Vatican's entrance..."

Miss Renee began to complain, and Mil listened carefully, feeling that what she said sounded somewhat like the plump, white fruit he had before he transmigrated.

Those white and tender fruits are a delight to eat...

What am I thinking?!

Mil shook his head, banishing all his jumbled thoughts, then smiled at Renee and said:

"Then I'll go and get everyone involved. I'll leave things to you, Miss Renee."

Renee didn't say much, just nodded, and then continued to count the food.

Mir, on the other hand, turned and walked toward the area where the crowd had gathered.

The previously noisy crowd immediately quieted down upon seeing Mir approach. Their gazes instinctively turned to Mir, filled with the respect and trust built up along the way.

"First of all, thank you all for surviving."

Secondly, those who are still able to move, please put down what you are doing and come with me to the entrance.

We need to transform that place into a heavily fortified defensive position within three days.

There's not much to say. The black mist has arrived, and all races except us are also threatened.

My divination tells me that goblins will attack soon, about 200 of them.

Dig a trap and protect your family back home; that's the only way.

Of course, there is another possibility: that my divination was wrong.

That's what I personally hope for.

After Mir finished speaking, everyone in the audience looked at him, but no one moved.

Until... an elderly man, trembling with fear, stood up:

"My lord, are we now considered your subjects?"

Mir looked at the old man, observing his resolute and fearless expression, and nodded slightly.

"Those who remain here, whether you like it or not, are now my subjects. I have no fiefdom granted by the empire, but the empire has probably also given up this fiefdom in the black mist."

"Therefore, I hereby declare myself your lord. From this day forward, you shall be subject to my rule and my protection!"

Upon hearing this, the old man smiled. He bent his knees slightly, about to kneel down, but suddenly felt his legs being lifted up by a force.

"Here, you don't need to kneel down when you see me. Treat me as your neighbor, your junior, or even just a passerby. Live on, live peacefully here."

The old man looked at Mill and suddenly uttered a sentence:

"You are different from the other lords. I have met 14 lords of Norton, and they are all different from you."

"If they look alike, then I should start to consider whether they are my relatives."

The old man chuckled upon hearing this.

"You're joking. You know I didn't mean that."

Mir laughed too:

"I understand, sir. Thank you for helping me out of this predicament and for taking the first step in helping everyone choose to believe in me."

Without you, it might have taken a long time for people to accept me.

The old man slightly turned his body to make way for the people behind him.

"It's not that they don't trust you, but that they don't trust the lord."

It's been hundreds of years; it's very difficult to change things so quickly.

Before the lord, we are not human beings, but merely stones. When he needs us, we are used as stepping stones; when he doesn't need us, we are crushed.

This has been the case for hundreds of years, and it seems to be the case.

If you are this kind of person, then what should we do?

There seems to be no way around it, because that's how the world works.

We can only place our fate in the hands of the goddess, hoping she will have mercy on us once.

Now it seems she really did smile at us, and that's how we met you.

You are a good person. I saw you give Anna food, so I believe you.

I've seen the wheat ripen in Norton dozens of times and read thousands of bards' tales, but I've never met anyone like you before.

"My lord, we are willing to follow you."

Mir looked at the old man, and this time, he did not refuse the old man's offer to bend down.

Mil simply extended his hand and whispered:

"I won't make any promises."

"Please feel free to do as you please."

"It was your initiative."

"I know."

"...No regrets?"

"I'm afraid I'll regret it."

Mil took a deep breath and then said:

"Then I'll try my best to ensure you don't regret it. Let's start by building fortifications!"

With that, Mir turned and left.

And at that moment, the crowd began to move.

The young people who were resting stood up, brushed off the dust and gravel from their clothes, and gradually gathered in the direction of Mir.

No one asked "Can it succeed?" and no one showed any hesitation.

The long journey and the conversation they had just had instilled in them a trust that needed no words.

"Mr. Mill, water."

Anderbel walked quickly to Mil's side and handed him a jug of water.

"A great speech."

"What makes it so great?"

"Sincerity is far better than the empty words of those lords."

"Don't praise me, I'm very nervous."

"You're so kind."

Mir blushed slightly and took a sip of water.

Anderbel nodded without saying anything more. He simply brushed the dirt off his hands, stood up, and walked towards the young men who were carrying stones and timber, joining the group.

She was nothing special; she was just one of Mil's people.

An old man looked up and saw Mil. He was too old to work, so he could only bend slightly towards Mil.

Mir looked at the old man and smiled. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know how to start.

We could only watch the old man leave.

Mil was incredibly strong; his superhuman physique allowed him to do far more than ordinary people.

While Mir was busy, a young woman carrying her child walked over, stopped a few steps away from Mir, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke somewhat hurriedly:

"My lord... I don't know how to thank you enough."

"If it weren't for you, my child would probably be dead by now. His name is Joseph, and he was only a few months old. I wanted him to become a good bricklayer in the future. You saved him..."

The woman's words were somewhat incoherent; she was genuinely nervous.

Mir stood up, patted the dirt off his hands, and looked at her and the child in her arms.

The child looked to be in good health and was quietly resting on his mother's shoulder, his gray-blue eyes peering curiously at him through the seam of his mother's clothes.

Mir glanced at the child, then turned his gaze back to the young woman's face.

"A very nice dream."

Mill said:

"I have a better future than being a lord; it's more practical to be a bricklayer."