Ideals and Reality

The Kobold Shaman could only watch helplessly as fewer and fewer warriors remained in front of him, while that devilish butcher drew closer and closer.

"Don't come over! Stay away!"

"I've got you!" Richard snarled as he grabbed the Kobold Shaman by the clothes and hoisted the short shaman into the air.

With the spellcaster gone, the Bloodlust Art dissipated completely, and the bandits' rational minds began reclaiming the high ground.

The harsh and barren environment had long accustomed the natives to facing the threat of death. They had even once believed they would never feel fear again. But facts proved that quantitative change could indeed lead to qualitative change.

The mountain of corpses and sea of blood before them, resembling a slaughterhouse, were like a basin of ice water dumped over their heads. Even the natives who cared least for life felt an uncontrollable chill of terror.

This terror had nothing to do with courage. It was purely instinct, hidden deep within the consciousness of all intelligent life.

The centaurs and barbarians' gazes were sharp as blades, making the bandits feel as if they were walking naked through a frozen wilderness.

And that knight drenched in blood... None of the usually arrogant warriors from the various tribes dared meet his eyes, as if merely looking at him would scorch their eyes.

The bandits actually wanted to run. Their courage had already vanished along with the lives of their dead comrades, but everyone stubbornly held their ground. The Bloodlust Art had significant side effects. Everyone was now utterly exhausted and drained of strength; even if they wanted to flee, they could not.

They cursed the damned shaman in their hearts with the most vicious words they could think of.

"Looks like High Mountain Keep won't have to worry about running short of slaves anymore." Richard looked as if he had just swum through a river of blood. Every step he took left a damp, bright-red footprint behind him.

He bent down and picked up the piece of hide the Kobold Shaman had torn earlier, carefully examining both sides. The black leather was smooth and even, covered with many strange symbols drawn in a grayish-white pigment. At first glance, it looked rather mysterious.

If one closed their eyes and sensed it carefully, they could faintly detect a considerable elemental fluctuation lingering around it.

"What is this?" He shook the hide between his fingers.

The old Kobold pursed his lips and refused to speak, trying to maintain the dignity of an elemental user. However, the trembling of his calves betrayed him.

"Hert, show this guy some methods." Richard could not be bothered to waste words on a prisoner and directly handed him over to the most honest-looking centaur.

"Yes, my lord." Hert revealed a simple smile, then dragged the Kobold away.

Centaurs all came from herding backgrounds, and herders were often very skilled with whips.

"Boss." Gunther removed his horned helmet, revealing a badly bruised and swollen face. Even through the thick helmet, the bandits' attacks had not been entirely harmless.

His voice was unusually low. "A few of the brothers are about to die."

"Take me to them." Richard glanced at the System Panel. It showed that three barbarians were seriously wounded and in critical condition.

Launching an attack against an enemy with an overwhelmingly superior force disparity sounded heroic, but in reality, it was no different from dancing on the edge of a blade. Nearly every barbarian bore injuries of varying severity. However, because their strength and equipment completely outclassed those of ordinary bandits, most of their wounds were not serious.

Only three were exceptions. They had the best equipment, charged the hardest, and fought the most fiercely, so they had fallen the fastest.

Without exception, all three had terrifying tearing wounds across their chests and abdomens. In the most serious case, one could even see the organs writhing inside the abdominal cavity, while blood gushed out in spurts. Richard guessed it was the work of the Hobgoblin greatsword assault troops. No other bandits possessed the awareness to deliver such lethal strikes.

Richard opened the System Panel. The experience gained from this battle was even richer than the combined gains from the previous few battles, and most of the soldiers could already advance.

He had discovered long ago that every time a system soldier advanced, they received a certain amount of recovery, with an effect similar to a weak healing spell. At this point, he could only treat a dying horse as if it were alive and try his luck. He raised his hand and selected advancement for everyone.

The effect was immediate. Warriors with minor injuries recovered almost instantly, and the condition of the three critically wounded barbarians also improved. The bleeding temporarily stopped, and their torn wounds drew together slightly.

But Richard's expression quickly darkened. Compared to their injuries, this amount of healing was nowhere near enough. The system showed that their lives were still slowly fading away with the passage of time.

Finding a priest capable of using divine magic in the wilderness was a pipe dream. But in truth, all they needed now was a reliable doctor to save the lives of several barbarians.

A few faint screams came from the distance, followed by the sound of a whip striking flesh like a violent storm. The broad and powerful Hert was swinging his whip left and right.

The best medical practitioner in all of High Mountain Keep might well have been the Kobold Shaman currently howling from the beatings, but there was no way they could rely on him.

"I'll bring him over and let him try." Gunther carried the old Kobold over like a chick.

The burly Icefield Warrior bared his teeth and, very rarely, smiled at someone outside Richard and his own people. He tried to show some goodwill to the barefoot doctor they had captured on the spot, but in reality, his grin was enough to make a child cry.

"In your dreams!"

The old Kobold clearly did not know that the wise man was one who recognized the times—or perhaps he truly possessed a backbone that ordinary wilderness natives lacked.

Richard squatted down and slowly extended his palm. When the Kobold Shaman instinctively shrank back, thinking he was about to be beaten, Richard merely wiped the beads of blood from his face.

"Heal them, and I guarantee your safety in the name of the lord."

"Lie on the ground and bark like a dog twice, and I'll agree." The Kobold lifted his head and bared a mouthful of sharp teeth. He actually looked as if he were smiling.

The atmosphere instantly became almost frozen. The Kobold Shaman, however, felt extremely pleased. This was the kind of respect an elemental user deserved.

He was an old fox who had cultivated intelligence over the years. He did not truly intend to resist to the death; he merely planned to put on airs and raise his value. He firmly believed that with his abilities, he deserved to be an honored guest wherever he went. Today would be no exception.

But ideals and reality often differed. Just then...

"Richard." Annie, the Half-Elf girl, came running down from the hill like a gust of wind, carrying a crystal bottle. "Holy water."

"Thanks. I must have been out of my mind. I should have asked you sooner." Richard slapped his own forehead, took the crystal bottle, and handed it to a centaur. "Dilute it with a bucket of water. Holy water at this concentration will sting someone to death if used directly."

He was not embarrassed in the slightest. Since the caravan was under High Mountain Keep's protection, paying some protection fees was only proper.

The Kobold Shaman suddenly felt that the situation seemed somewhat unfavorable...

"As for this scumbag..." Richard grinned, revealing two rows of snow-white teeth, then snapped his fingers sharply. "Hert, whip the hell out of him and find out where these bandits' lair is!"

"I'm coming too!" Gunther clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking loudly.

"Me too."

"Me too."

"..."

Half of the large group of High Mountain Keep warriors surrounding them scattered with a great rush.