A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

Dazed, Rolando subconsciously reached out his hand.

The young Cultivator pulled Rolando up from the ground.

Rolando was a complete wreck. Blood oozing from the gash on his forehead had stained his hair and the left side of his face. His features were a mask of bruises and blood, and his left eye was swollen shut. His magnificent silk clothes were covered in filth; he was utterly squalid.

Numbness and pain shot through his legs, making Rolando unsteady. He nearly collapsed to the ground again.

’I hope nothing’s broken,’ he thought. He remembered someone viciously stomping on his shin.

The Cultivator steadied him.

"Thank you."

Rolando steadied himself with a hand on the Cultivator’s shoulder, trying to keep some distance from his kind savior. He didn’t want to get his filth on the man’s clean Monk’s Robe.

"Don’t thank me. Thank God, child," the Cultivator said with a smile.

"You as well... Ah..."

Rolando assumed the Cultivator had believed the mob’s accusations. Or perhaps he and his Monastery had also suffered from... ’the scourge of the Lanfranchi Bank’.

"Rest assured. I see only you, not the son of some family or another."

"Thank you," Rolando said, breathing a sigh of relief.

’If they had kept beating me,’ he thought, ’I might have died here today.’

"Hello. My name is Eric. I’m from the Monastery in Canossa. People call me Cultivator Eric."

"Thank you for your help, Cultivator Eric." Rolando bowed his head in silence for a moment before looking up at Eric again. "Cultivator Eric, I’m sorry, but I cannot confess to you... You probably think what happened is obvious.

But I beg you, give me some time. I will explain everything. There has to be a misunderstanding... In any case, I know a tragedy has occurred, but I will do everything in my power to ensure those who have suffered losses receive the compensation they deserve.

Please, forgive me. I cannot believe my father and my brother would do something so unconscionable. I have never forgotten the motto my great-grandfather left for our family..."

"Everyone needs to repent," Eric said.

"Yes, you’re right. Everyone needs to repent. But this matter needs to be investigated first."

"And what if it is as they say? What will you do then?"

"I... I don’t know." Rolando was speechless. The memory of the mob’s fury was still fresh...

A tragedy had already occurred. Whether it was his father and brother’s mistake or some other misunderstanding, Lanfranchi could not escape responsibility.

"By the way, the townspeople." Rolando noticed that the mob that had surrounded him moments ago had vanished.

"I told them to leave," Eric said in a casual tone.

"Leave? They just... left like that? Why?" Rolando asked, astonished.

"I told them, ’Do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.’ Do you know where that’s from?"

"The Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 5, verse 39," Rolando answered precisely.

"You have a good memory," Eric praised.

"That’s almost more insulting than the beating," Rolando said with a helpless laugh.

’According to that verse, doesn’t that make me the ’evil person’?’

’The Cultivator was insulting me indirectly.’

"I’m just joking. Once a crowd’s emotions are running high, reciting the Bible is useless. I’m afraid only a divine miracle from our Lord himself could have stopped them," Eric said with a smile, patting Rolando on the shoulder.

"Then why did they leave?" Rolando suddenly found the Cultivator before him quite interesting.

"The Church bells just rang. It was a signal that the Church is hiring."

"Hiring? For manual labor? The churches in Pisa can’t possibly need that many people." Rolando recalled that the churches in Pisa City weren’t very large. Besides, many positions, even menial jobs, were already given to relatives of the Clergy.

"The existing churches can’t, of course. But the one that’s about to be built will be able to provide for almost everyone."

"A new Church? Who is funding it?" Rolando asked in surprise.

Pisa City’s economy had been hit hard by competition from the East. Many people were starving, and even the city’s nobles were suffering business losses.

’Who would even consider building a new church at a time like this?’

A church is a donation to God; typically, nobles don’t receive any financial return from such a project.

"The Marchioness of Canossa. She is renowned for her Devotion. Now, the Pisans bankrupted by Yin Lanfranqi—or perhaps by the Lanzafame family—have found a refuge.

Even if not, they will no longer go hungry. I’ve seen the plans for the new Church. It’s a massive undertaking, an unprecedented design that will take several years to complete."

"Canossa..." Rolando sighed. "This is a bribe. I’ve heard of her. She’s a cold-blooded, brutal ruler. Last year, she mercilessly destroyed the city of Spoleto, and not a single noble who participated in the rebellion was spared.

She also recently married an Earl Norman, which will only amplify her greed and cruelty.

Pisa has long struggled to break free from the Canossa Clan’s control. For generations, her family has curried favor with the Pope, cloaking their cruel and foolish ambitions in the guise of piety. But it does nothing to hide their wicked nature.

Their sins run deep. No matter how many churches they donate, they can never wash away their filth. God will spit on such offerings, for they are forged from blood and lamentation."

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