Rise of the Weakest Awakener: I Only Have Concept-Level Skills-Chapter 48 --There Are Still Good People in This World?

All students and members of the Tarot School were to behave modestly, discreetly, and respectfully while outside.

How had such a catastrophe still occurred?!

"Activate all defensive arrays immediately!

All students, members, and professors—pour all your strength into defending against the incoming thunderstorm!"

The overwhelming sense of impending destruction left no room for hesitation.

Wood gave the command urgently, trying to marshal every last ounce of strength the Tarot School could muster to face the deadly threat.

BOOM—!

Almost immediately after his voice fell, the gathered thunderclouds unleashed their fury.

A colossal bolt of lightning ripped through the heavens like a sword slicing the earth in two, carrying an unstoppable momentum as it descended.

It lit up the night sky and shook the ground with a deafening roar.

Sensing the danger, all members of the Tarot School—students, professors, everyone—quickly channeled their elemental powers and blood essence into the school's grand defensive array.

In an instant, the entire Tarot School transformed into a mighty fortress,

one that could, in theory, resist all external threats.

However—

the moment the protective array came into contact with the pale lightning—

it collapsed.

Cracks instantly spiderwebbed across the array, black as pitch, and rapidly spread across every corner.

Those overseeing the array—professors and students alike—vomited blood uncontrollably,

their bodies growing limp and weak as if their bones had been extracted.

Many collapsed to the ground, unable to stand.

Some even fainted outright from the severity of their injuries.

Even Wood himself turned as pale as paper, visibly shaken and gravely wounded by the backlash.

Fortunately—

after that one strike, no further bolts of lightning fell.

Otherwise, the centuries-old heritage of the Tarot School would have been wiped from existence.

"Who?!

Who on earth caused this mess, bringing such calamity upon us?!"

Although the lightning storm had dissipated, Professor Wood's fury had not.

Suppressing the pain coursing through his body, he roared,

"Find out who it was!

I want the traitor who broke our rules identified and dragged before me!"

It was clear—

The catastrophic thunderstorm was not random;

it was a warning, a punishment triggered by someone from the Tarot School offending an untouchable existence.

If the Tarot School's legacy were to end during his leadership,

Wood would never be able to face the revered ancestors who had built this institution from nothing.

What enraged him most was that he had already issued ironclad rules to everyone:

First, when traveling outside, reveal your identity only if absolutely necessary. Otherwise, remain anonymous.Second, act humbly and cautiously at all times. Never be arrogant.Third, if a tarot divination reveals a figure shrouded in mist—meaning a person of immense destiny and fortune—avoid them at all costs!

Fussen Town.

Standing before the village gate, John hesitated.

A large stone slab marked the town's name.

Something about this place made him uneasy.

A vague sense of discomfort gnawed at his instincts.

However, night was falling rapidly, and camping outdoors would be far more dangerous than braving a small town's uncertainties.

After all, this was still technically within the borders of the Macedonian Kingdom.

Even if it was a bit disorderly, surely it wouldn't be so chaotic as to cost him his life... right?

John made up his mind and stepped into the village.

Inside, several middle-aged women were tidying up the grass along the paths.

The moment they noticed John, they all turned to look at him—

their faces lighting up with wide, welcoming smiles.

It was as if a beloved son or a long-lost friend had returned home.

"Who's that? Such a handsome young man!"

"Maybe he's the new boyfriend of one of the village girls!"

"Must be! But how come we haven't heard anything about it before?"

As their curious eyes raked him up and down, John couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable.

I'm literally still standing at the gate, and they're already gossiping like this?!

He coughed lightly and asked politely,

"Excuse me, Aunties. I've been traveling all day and didn't keep track of time.

Is there an inn around here where I could stay for the night?"

The women's eyes brightened even more.

"Oh, you need a place to stay? Come to my house!

I have a lovely single room—it's spacious and very comfortable!"

"Nonsense, my place is better! It's cozier!"

"Pick me, pick me!"

They swarmed around John, arguing fiercely over who would host him.

Their enthusiasm was overwhelming.

Just then—

an old man in tattered clothing appeared, forcing his way through the crowd.

He pushed the women aside and looked at John coldly.

"You're an outsider, aren't you?

Leave.

This place doesn't welcome strangers."

His voice was harsh and tinged with resignation.

John frowned slightly, sensing that there was more to the story.

He was about to ask further when two of the women quickly dragged the old man away, ushering him into a nearby courtyard.

The rest of the women immediately regrouped around John, chattering at once:

"Ignore that crazy old man. He always talks nonsense."

"Yeah, poor thing. He used to be normal, but after his whole family disappeared years ago... he just lost his mind."

"He may not welcome you, but we do!"

With that, one of the women eagerly led John deeper into the village.

John didn't resist.

He allowed them to guide him, though he couldn't help glancing once more toward the old man being hauled away—

his sharp eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

Not long after—

Still frustrated by their fruitless search for John, Doria and Helen also stumbled upon Fussen Town by accident.

As they entered, the villagers greeted them just as warmly, showering them with kindness and concern.

When the sisters mentioned that they were hungry,

the villagers immediately brought out a feast—

plate after plate of delicious home-cooked food.

Doria, who had been starving to the point of nearly passing out, was overwhelmed with gratitude.

She stuffed her cheeks like a hamster, devouring everything she could reach.

"Mmm! See, sis?" Doria mumbled through mouthfuls of bread and roast meat.

"There really are so many good people left in the world!

Most folks are just so nice!"