Using Truth to Persuade

Diluted Holy Water was quickly distributed to the severely wounded barbarians.

Flesh on their wounds began to writhe, stretch, and intertwine like fish fry, while severed blood vessels reset, connected, and healed along their proper paths. Lost skin and flesh gradually regrew, and ruptured wounds slowly closed.

Time seemed to flow millions of times faster, condensing what should have been a lengthy process into just a few breaths.

This process clearly brought extraordinary pain. They hadn't made a sound when their bellies were ripped open with large holes, but now they couldn't help but grip the turf tightly by their hands, large beads of sweat beading on their foreheads.

The wounds were still gruesome, but at least their internal organs weren't directly visible. From the information provided by the system, their lives had been saved.

"Carry them back to bed to rest for a while," Richard waved his hand.

Continuing to use Holy Water might have fully healed them, but Pompeii was a relatively secular country and didn't blindly revere Holy Water. The prevailing national opinion was that excessive use of it in a short period would deplete one's life force.

Richard was completely clueless about magic theory and wasn't sure if this claim had any merit, so he could only choose to err on the side of caution.

His expression was serious, but inwardly, he was bubbling with joy.

A light screen, visible only to him, floated in mid-air before him.

Richard had glanced at it earlier when he was promoting everyone, knowing that the number of advancements would surely be high, but he truly hadn't expected it to be this much.

All Tier 3 Barbarian Spearmen had advanced to Barbarian Warriors, and two of the original Barbarian Warriors became Tier 5 Barbarian Great Axe Warriors. The Tier 1 and 2 Centaur Herdsmen and Centaur New Guard were even more exaggerated; they all advanced one tier, not a single one left behind.

The bandits severely lacked ranged firepower, and the Centaurs, as archers, faced almost no significant threat. On average, each of them fired over thirty arrows, and many even had overflowing experience.

The elite level of High Mountain Keep's entire guard force had directly risen a step.

On the other side, Annie was holding a wooden board and a charcoal stick, helping to tally casualties, but she quickly realized it was meaningless—there was no need to count the bandits' casualties, and High Mountain Keep astonishingly had no fatalities.

This discovery left her incredulous. After carefully verifying it twice to confirm, she still couldn't wrap her head around it.

If she couldn't understand, she'd ask. A Half-Elf inherited at least half of an Elf's straightforwardness.

"Richard, High Mountain Keep actually had no casualties! Heavens, this truly seems like a miracle blessed by the gods from ancient legends."

"Blessed by the gods? Ha, to be honest, it's not that mysterious," Richard said. He had been busy since the fighting ended and hadn't had time to remove his armor.

Many parts of his iron armor were twisted from heavy blows, and two trading company servants were gritting their teeth, wrestling with deformed clasps using pliers. Each time a layer of armor was removed, uncoagulated blood splattered onto the ground with a "sploosh."

"A force ratio of one to eight, if this isn't a divine blessing, what is?" Annie put on a pious and innocent maiden's expression, which was sure to maximally ignite any male creature's desire to confide.

"Don't be fooled by legends. There's not that much fancy stuff in war; it's the most practical things that are useful," Richard said, pointing behind him.

The surviving bandits had collectively laid down their weapons and surrendered. Under the escort of barbarians and Centaurs, they marched in two columns towards the foot of the hills, where a long life as slaves awaited them.

Although the warriors of High Mountain Keep were fierce in battle, they treated the weak more civilly than most nobles. They even shared some extra Holy Water with the slaves, making these unsophisticated wilderness folk immensely grateful.

Annie saw this scene and, after much thought, felt that only "arrogance" could describe it.

Hidden beneath seemingly compassionate actions was deep arrogance—because of absolute confidence in their strength, they were unusually lenient towards the defeated. Truly a group of proud and formidable warriors!

"Look at my subordinates. They're either Highland Barbarians or Centaurs, every single one of them a famous and powerful race. What if the troop ratio is ten to one?" Richard then pointed to the merchant caravan's mercenaries not far away. "If I were fighting with them, I would have led the charge to flee long ago."

The mercenaries were completely unaware that they were the subject of discussion, gathered together watching the spectacle.

These guys also witnessed the distribution of Holy Water, and each of them noticeably curled their lips, clearly disdainful of this grand gesture.

Annie's cheeks couldn't help but flush. The disparity was always especially obvious when viewed in comparison, making it difficult for the proud Half-Elf to accept.

"Just kidding, no offense, no offense," Richard slapped his thigh and laughed heartily twice.

"Lord Richard, you're a Pompeian, so why do you have so many Highland Barbarians as followers?"

Annie was somewhat moved and decided that after returning, she would also suggest that the trading company form an elite guard force. Non-human races like Centaurs were easily discriminated against in Pompeii, but Highland Barbarians, in all aspects, felt very suitable to her.

"That's a long story. I also paid a great price—" Richard's eyes suddenly became very worn, very regretful, and very profound, like falling stars.

It made Annie feel that perhaps a stirring adventure story was hidden within, with the Lord of High Mountain Keep and the barbarians as protagonists, and it must have involved words like dragons, epics, and bloody battles.

Beneath her calm exterior, her gossipy heart was stirring.

"I bought them in a bulk deal from human traffickers for a full thousand gold coins," Richard sighed. His inherent peasant mentality was impossible to wash away; the thought of the IOUs made his liver ache.

Even in his hometown, where credit services were so developed, Richard had never borrowed money. But now, the debt he carried was as heavy as a mountain, to the point where even if all of High Mountain Keep collectively went to the arena to sell their muscles, they wouldn't be able to pay it off.

"At this current price, it's damn expensive," Richard sighed once more.

He looked at the bandit corpses left on the battlefield and suddenly felt that victory was flavorless. What did winning matter if not a single gold coin was earned?

"..."

Annie opened her mouth, unsure what to say. Although the sum wasn't small, compared to a team of elite warriors, it was practically a free gift.

"Actually, I shouldn't have paid them anything," Richard said, pressing his money pouch with a pained expression. It was empty except for a few IOUs; he only kept it on him out of sheer pride.

"These barbarians used to be gladiators in the arena, causing it to almost shut down. It was I who impressed these good-for-nothing treasures and took them away. The arena should be paying me."

"How... did you impress them?" Annie vaguely felt this might be key and asked cautiously.

"The boss pinned Gunther to the ground and beat him for a full fifteen minutes, and then we all submitted," a passing barbarian said very honestly.