Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter 68
TL PSA: descriptions of gore/torture & violence.
For the gang of bandits who had dared to invade his territory a second time, the usually merciful Lord Laina adopted an unprecedented firmness—even a cold-blooded attitude.
As he had stated earlier, this was not a trial.
It was an execution, pure and simple, carried out to defend Laina.
No matter how desperately the doomed bandits pleaded for mercy or how furiously they cursed, those who had once shed the blood of innocent merchants ultimately met their end here, closing their wicked lives.
Those with some authority within the bandit group were beheaded, while the rest were hanged on the gallows.
The watching slaves and commoners cheered excitedly, listening to the wails from the execution platform and watching the river of blood flow.
The headless corpses of the bandit leaders were bound limb by limb and left hanging on the ropes, to be twisted and dried by the wind over the next half month, serving as a warning to other bandit groups with sinister intentions.
As for the bodies of the other bandits…
To prevent the spread of disease, Oliver ordered them burned and then buried.
By the time the lengthy execution concluded, the sky had darkened completely.
Yet in the eyes of the people, the Lord remained merciful—not only had he spared so many who had invaded Laina for the first time, but he had also refrained from subjecting these repeat offenders to more brutal tortures, instead granting them a swift death.
They had witnessed with their own eyes how the eighth Lord had casually ordered a slave’s hands chopped off simply because the slave failed to wipe the mud clean from his path.
They had also seen commoner women punished with the “cucking stool[mfn] 
(马桶椅) – A historical device used to punish and publicly humiliate offenders, often by dunking them in water or seating them in public. Commonly used in Europe for scolding or disorderly women.[/mfn]” or the “scold’s bridle[mfn] 
(毒舌钩) – A metal mask or headpiece that restrained the tongue and sometimes inflicted pain, used to punish “scolding” or verbally abusive individuals in early modern Europe.[/mfn]” merely because a few commoner men accused them of complaining about another commoner.
These treacherous and despicable bandit captives, whose status was even lower than that of slaves, deserved far harsher punishments!
Oliver returned to the castle.
Though he had already bathed once, after witnessing the execution, he couldn’t resist washing again.
This time, he spent even longer in the bath.
Yet, as he stepped out of the steamy bathroom, he still frowned, feeling as though the heavy stench of blood lingered around him.
Sigh.
After another long day, Oliver sat silently on his bed, habitually retrieving the lucky cat statue from his game backpack and holding it in his arms.
He clearly realized…
He had truly changed.
If it were him from a month ago, when he had just merged memories and was still startled by the “human jerky” hanging on the gallows, he would never have dreamed that he would soon make such a cold-blooded decision to take the lives of over a hundred people.
Even as he watched the bandits’ heads roll or saw them desperately clawing at the nooses around their necks, their bodies contorting in their death throes, his heart remained hardened.
When he issued the next order to take a prisoner’s life, he felt no pity or hesitation.
He had no choice but to do this.
Oliver warned himself.
This was an era rife with inequality, oppression, and fear.
If he did not deal harshly with those bandits, it would be tantamount to condoning—or even encouraging—more people to plunder or pillage the territory.
The threats he would face then would not only come from outside but from within as well.
A noble lord guarded by only a few knights, unable to defend his most important property with the sharpest weapons—how could he possibly expect to be feared?
The “saintly” lord, with his mild temper, refrained from imposing harsh punishments even on criminals. Instead of being feared or respected by his subordinates, he invited malicious bullying from outsiders.
In contrast, a lord notorious for his violent temper, due to his cruelty and cold brutality, made most people too afraid to act recklessly.
Until he gained more abilities, this was the only way.
After reasoning it through once more, Oliver completely calmed the ripples that had stirred in his heart.
He placed the wealth statue back on the bedside table, lay down on the bed, and silently closed his eyes.
The settlement panel for the day instantly popped up.
Unsurprisingly, Oliver saw that the values and levels of two of his professional skills had changed—
Since reaching level 5, the experience gain for farming had become incredibly slow. It had finally, with great difficulty, reached level 6 and unlocked three recipes at once.
Unfortunately, these three recipes were of no use to Oliver at this time.
The crafting of [Automatic Sprinkler (Medium)] required a piece of refined quartz.
…Great, he didn’t have any.
As the lord, he certainly didn’t lack slaves to handle irrigation work.
As for the crafting of [Ironwood Fence], it required a piece of hardwood… yet after cutting down over a thousand trees, he hadn’t encountered a single tree that produced hardwood.
The third recipe, for [Cheese Maker], also required hardwood.
Moreover, he had already confirmed that although the cook’s method of making cheese took more time and materials, it had a similar effect. There was really no need to specially craft a cheese maker.
Disinterested, Oliver closed the recipe panel and turned his attention to the combat professional skill.
Through the battles during the day, combat had been raised to level 2 in one go, unlocking the recipes for [Defense Ring] and [Healing Potion].
To be fair, both could be considered good items, but……God only knew where he would find the 25 monster meats required to craft the [Defense Ring]!
Helplessly, Oliver looked at the materials needed for the [Healing Potion].
Unlike other recipes that demanded resources he either lacked or were in short supply, the healing potion was relatively simple, requiring only four different types of mushrooms.
But its effects were also ordinary: the health and stamina recovery it provided was about the same as what a piece of cheese could offer.
In short, both were rather useless.
Oliver completely lost interest in studying them.
Just before closing the panel, he instinctively thought… if only he could enter the dream where he could freely pet cats again.
As soon as this thought emerged, a brilliant golden light enveloped Oliver’s surroundings.
Before he could even feel surprised, the next moment, he was already sitting on the familiar bed in his bedroom.
Huh.
Oliver blinked in astonishment.
His “teleportation location” was getting closer and closer to the bedroom… from having to walk a long distance to enter the temple, to now appearing directly—Now near the temple entrance, then inside the temple, and now straightforwardly placing him directly into the bedroom.
Thinking this, he couldn’t help but glance toward the head of the bed.
— Sure enough.
That familiar golden silhouette with a pair of warm, fluffy cat ears was already crouched waiting at the bedside.
“Meow meow… um, kitty,” Oliver quickly corrected himself, instinctively putting on the smile of a neglectful owner as he cheerfully spread his arms open toward him: “Come here, okay?”
But once again, something surprising happened.
Last time, when he called out, although the cat-eared youth seemed reluctant and moved awkwardly, he had still obediently come over to accept the petting. This time, however, it was as if he didn’t hear at all.
He remained sitting cross-legged at the head of the bed, maintaining a light and relaxed posture, completely still.
Well, not entirely motionless.
At the very least, Oliver clearly saw: those golden, temptingly fluffy little pointed ears twitched rapidly once.
—As if angry, or perhaps feeling guilty.
“Kitty?”
Oliver blinked in confusion.
He skillfully clapped his hands, trying to get the “big cat’s” attention, and said seriously while talking nonsense: “My dear Cat God, your loyal worshiper wants to stroke your adorable ears. Would you bestow this honor upon me?”
The cat ears twitched again, seemingly tempted.
But he still didn’t come over.
Just as Oliver was puzzled, he heard his slow, drawn-out reply, the tone unable to conceal dejection.
……
…… O……liver ……
…… Obviously……
……
Oliver listened intently, but after waiting a while, there was no continuation.
He couldn’t help but press further: “Obviously what?”
……
…… Obviously…… likes……
…… petting those…… chicks……
……
Recalling the scene he had witnessed earlier, he once again tasted that indescribable feeling of discomfort.
Even though he had spoken such sweet words like “I hope to see you again” and “I miss you,” in the very next moment, he had hidden him away and cheerfully went to pet those chicks that were clearly attached to him.
He had actually recovered enough divine power last night to pull his beloved worshiper into the divine realm and meet again.
But because of that lingering bitterness, he had felt unsettled all along.
Plus, during the day, he saw Oliver get injured… both of these things shook his emotions again, and it wasn’t until tonight that he finally managed to gather enough power.
Oliver: “……”
Is the cat in my dream this jealous too?
He had no idea that even in his dreams, he could collect such detailed elements, reasonably inserting events that had actually happened.
Looking at the cat-eared youth’s long tail swishing restlessly back and forth, and then at those ears that occasionally trembled slightly, tilting toward him as if waiting for something.
Oliver hesitated only for a moment before chuckling, leaning forward to intimately embrace the sulking golden glow.
…… !!! ……
His entire body stiffened.
Now, he was truly motionless.
In Oliver’s eyes, the answer was simply obvious.
The cat god, openly admitting to being jealous, refused to come closer yet wouldn’t leave either, pretending to observe its master with feigned indifference… Wasn’t this clearly asking to be coaxed?
“I like chicks because when they grow up, they can lay eggs and provide more and better food for the Laina people.”
Though speaking to the little cat in his dream, the beautiful golden-haired lord patiently explained. After lowering himself, he finally got to touch those slightly warm, fluffy, and lovely cat ears as he wished.
His mood instantly improved even more.
In a low, gentle voice that enchanted the newborn deity, leaving it utterly defenseless, he whispered sweet words: “My dear Cat God, you are of course different from them. Even if you do nothing for me, I will still like you the most.”
Oliver said this with complete sincerity.
A cat that was pleasant to pet, prone to jealousy but good-natured, and never threw tantrums—of course, it was the most adorable cat master.
—Such a perfect cat could only exist in his own dreams, after all.
“The chicks belong to me,” but in the eyes and ears of the swaying deity, its most beloved believer smiled, blinking those eyes more beautiful than the azure sky, and gently spoke words that utterly intoxicated it: “But I, I belong to you.”
