NOVPUBChapter 175: Ch 175: Libration at last- Part 3
The wealthy stood frozen in the city square, teeth gritted and eyes burning with fury, as Kyle publicly extended unconditional protection to the craftsmen who chose to leave with him.
His declaration, made in full view of Venuce’s citizens, stripped the rich of their most insidious weapon—fear.
With so many witnesses, they could no longer threaten the craftsmen with quiet words in dark alleys. Everything was now out in the open.
“Soldiers, separate the craftsmen from the others.”
Kyle called calmly.
Sir Veldom’s former guards, now firmly under Kyle’s command, moved quickly and efficiently. Lines were drawn through the crowd.
Craftsmen were ushered to one side, their families and apprentices clustering close to them.
The rich merchants and minor nobles, red-faced and seething, were kept on the other.
“You have one hour. Pack only the essentials. Leave behind what you can’t carry. We move tonight.”
Kyle said, turning to the craftsmen.
There was no hesitation.
As soon as they were released, the craftsmen scattered. The wealthy immediately surged forward to protest, their shouts filling the square.
“You can’t do this!”
“This is robbery!”
“They belong to us! Their contracts—!”
Kyle raised a hand, and the shouting stopped—cut short not by fear, but by the overwhelming weight of his mana pressing down on them.
Dozens of nobles, merchants, and hired swords collapsed to their knees, struggling to breathe, their limbs heavy and stiff. A few coughed blood.
“You think this is unfair? You’re right. Life isn’t fair.”
Kyle said quietly, his voice like a blade.
He looked down at them, his gaze devoid of mercy.
“You built your fortunes on their backs. You kept them hungry so they’d be easier to control. Now that they’ve chosen something better, you want to call it theft?”
A few tried to stand.
A handful of hired thugs reached for their weapons—but under the pressure of Kyle’s mana, their arms refused to move.
“If you want to stop them, then stop me. Show me your objections physically.”
Kyle said.
None dared. None could.
And so, for the next hour, Kyle held the entire ruling class of Venuce hostage with nothing but the oppressive aura of his mana.
His soldiers watched in silence, not one of them doubting that he could kill them all if he wished.
As the hour ticked by, carts began to roll in.
Craftsmen returned with bundles, children, and tools. Some looked frightened, others hopeful—but all walked with purpose.
Bruce approached Kyle and gave a nod.
“They’re ready.”
Kyle turned back to the still-immobilized wealthy. n𝚘𝚟𝚙𝚞𝚋.𝚌o𝚖
“Let them go.”
With a wave of his hand, his mana receded.
The merchants and nobles gasped for breath, collapsing or clutching at their knees as strength returned to their limbs.
Before they could recover fully, Kyle turned to the craftsmen.
“Move out. My people will guard the front. I’ll guard the rear.”
They didn’t waste time. The makeshift convoy began to march out of Venuce under the fading light of dusk.
Kyle’s troops moved with precision, forming a protective vanguard and flanking the caravan with practiced ease.
From behind, Kyle watched every movement. His eyes remained fixed on the now-vacant city square and the trembling nobles within it.
Even as the craftsmen left peacefully, Kyle could see the hatred burning in the merchants’ eyes.
They had lost their lifeline—dozens of master artisans, apprentices, and laborers all gone in a single stroke. Wealth meant nothing without workers. Power meant little without obedience.
They would not forget this humiliation. Their pride would not let them. Kyle saw it clearly—the bitterness, the hunger for revenge.
Even if they couldn’t act now, they would try. Assassins, sabotage, bribes—whatever methods their gold could buy.
But Kyle didn’t flinch.
He wanted them to come. Let them try.
This was not a retreat—it was a declaration. Venuce would no longer be a prison for the hardworking.
And if the elite thought to punish those who dared to dream, then they would answer to him.
Only when the last wagon passed through the city gates did Kyle turn his back on the square. He was the last one out of Venuce.
And the moment he vanished from sight, the curses exploded.
“Monster!”
“Tyrant!”
“We’ll make you pay, Armstrong!”
The nobles spat venom into the air, but none dared chase after him.
Because deep down, they knew—they had already lost.
Once Kyle had left Venuce, the wealthy businessmen and merchants gathered in the city’s central hall, their frustration and panic turning into cold resolve.
The air was thick with anxiety as they realized their only remaining option was to eliminate the threat that Kyle Armstrong represented.
Their anger was tempered by fear—the young lord had already proven his strength, and they couldn’t afford to directly challenge him in Venuce, or anywhere else, without inviting the wrath of the entire nobility.
“Armstrong has humiliated us. We cannot allow him to walk free, to take our craftsmen, and to spread this insult across the land.”
One of the older merchants said, his voice low but filled with venom.
Another merchant nodded grimly.
“It’s clear we cannot fight him directly. No noble would risk offending someone with the backing he has. But we can stop him. We can make sure he never reaches his destination.”
The room fell silent as they all began to understand what needed to be done.
The merchants huddled closer, their voices dropping to a whisper as they planned.
Their only remaining defense was to strike before Kyle reached the safety of his territory, to ensure that he never left the road alive.
“We know he’s headed for the valley junction. We can arrange for an accident. A rockslide, or a rogue group of bandits. It doesn’t matter how—it only matters that he doesn’t survive. Once he’s dead, his body can be buried in the ditch between the two valleys. No one will find it. He’ll be nothing but a rumor.”
A younger merchant said, pulling out a map of the area.
The others nodded in agreement, murmuring about the details of the plan.
The bandits could be hired, the rocks could be loosened along the cliffs, and the location of the junction was perfect—remote, with little chance of anyone stumbling upon the aftermath.
It was the perfect place to dispose of a noble who had made too many enemies too quickly.
“We’ll ensure it’s clean. No signs of foul play. His body will be nothing more than an unfortunate casualty on the road.”
Another man assured them.
“Agreed. It’s the only way. We act quickly—before he gets too far ahead.”
The first merchant said, slamming his fist down on the table.
Meanwhile, Kyle was already anticipating the danger.
As he made his way through the rugged terrain, he regrouped with Bruce and Melissa, the sun setting behind the hills. His expression was calm, though his mind was sharp and calculating.
“They’ll come for us at the next valley junction. It’s too obvious a spot for them not to try something.”
Kyle said, his voice cool.
Bruce raised an eyebrow, but Melissa’s face darkened with concern.
“Do you think they’ll send bandits or cause a rockslide?”
Kyle nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon.
“Both options are likely. That’s why we’ll be taking a detour. We’ll avoid the junction and find another route to our destination.”
Bruce grinned.
“So we’re making them chase us through the hills. I like it.”
Melissa didn’t smile, though.
“It’s a risky move, my lord. They’ll think we’re fleeing. They might press harder if they believe we’re weak.”
Kyle met her gaze, his expression unwavering.
“If they want to think we’re fleeing, let them. We’ll make them regret that assumption. Prepare the men. We leave immediately.”
He turned to Bruce.
