Raven moved closer, while Denise did not dodge.
In the dim room, Raven's nostrils were instantly filled with a faint, alluring fragrance.
The scent of cosmetics, wisps of sweat, and the rich, enticing body fragrance unique to a mature woman.
If Laxus was a slightly unripe apple, then Denise was a fully ripened mango, giving off a honey-sweet fragrance.
It was the kind of deadly temptation that, even without the serpent's urging, would have been enough to make Adam and Eve eat the forbidden fruit in Eden.
The instant their lips touched, a trace of panic flashed through Denise's slightly dazed eyes. She placed her hands against Raven's chest, wanting to push him away, but the moment she touched him, she lost her strength, and her hands became more like a gentle caress.
As though he wanted to swallow Denise whole, Raven demanded more and more. His tongue deftly pried open her teeth. She tried to stop him, but the spreading scent of male hormones left her numb, and she could only let Raven ravish her. Her feeble resistance seemed more like a shy, inexperienced response.
Their tongues entwined in the darkness like two snakes dancing in the water.
Denise had completely lost herself. A flush spread across her skin, fine beads of sweat merging together and soaking the last of the fabric on her body. A hazy mist covered her crystalline eyes, her long lashes trembled without pause, and her legs pressed together and rubbed restlessly. Her ten delicate toes dug tightly into the soft carpet.
A faint, sobbing hum drifted out, sounding both like rejection and yearning.
Raven was no longer satisfied with the wet, passionate kiss. His hand landed on Denise's silky-smooth leg and slowly moved upward, invading inch by inch as he sought to reach the innermost territory.
That instantly brought Denise back to her senses. She shoved Raven in the chest and threw her head back, breaking free of the sweet, lingering entanglement. Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath.
A smile appeared at the corner of Raven's mouth. He licked his lips, savoring the sweetness he had just tasted.
Denise possessed both a young girl's shyness and the mature charm unique to a married woman. It had truly been a rare and wonderful experience.
He walked over to the wardrobe and tossed a heavy garment beside Denise.
"Thank you." Denise deliberately avoided Raven's gaze. That brief contact had been more thrilling than anything she had ever experienced, and her legs were still somewhat weak.
As he watched Denise slowly cover her body in front of him, Raven asked, "Denise, how were you discovered?"
Denise's quarters were at the edge of the third floor, in an extremely secluded location. When Raven had arranged the scene, he had deliberately lured people toward the warehouse and armory. Most of the rooms here were empty, so with Denise's intelligence and caution, she should not have been discovered in only a dozen minutes or so.
Denise also understood the implication in Raven's words. She shot a hateful glance at the corpse on the floor. "He came straight to my room..."
That single sentence opened both their minds to the same possibility.
Belly had deliberately found Denise's room. That meant someone had immediately told him where she was.
And many people knew where she lived: the maids, Old Gordon, Weston...
"Weston!" Remembering her son, Denise's heart began pounding violently. "Raven, hurry and save him!"
"Don't get worked up, Aunt Denise." Raven said, "Weston isn't a fool. He won't be caught so easily. Perhaps he's still hiding in his room."
"That's right. He might still be hiding in his room..." Denise muttered, suddenly trying to rush outside.
Raven grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. "What are you doing?"
"I have to save my son!"
"If you do that, you'll only get yourself caught up in this as well!"
Ignoring Denise's struggles, Raven rudely lifted her by the waist and slung her over his shoulder. He leaped onto the windowsill, confirmed that the grappling hook was secure, then slid down the rope to the ground.
"One thousand gold coins! I'll pay one thousand gold coins—save Weston!" Denise was set down on the ground. She stood and shouted, "If one thousand isn't enough, I'll pay three thousand—"
Before she could finish, the smell of blood flooded her nose and mouth. Caught off guard, she immediately began vomiting.
Everywhere she looked, there were corpses!
Raven did not vomit, but his brows twitched furiously as he began reloading his hand crossbow.
His deep gaze swept across the scene. The roaring flames in the castle illuminated the battlefield, revealing a hellish landscape of cruelty.
Corpses lay strewn about before the hall. Bandits and private soldiers alike—some had their heads smashed, while others had their limbs hacked off. Bright-red muscle and pale-yellow fat piled together around the fractured bones.
The sight reminded Raven of spare ribs in a supermarket freezer, and then of the slaughtered pigs he had seen during New Year celebrations in his previous life.
Severed blood vessels hung like torn electrical wires. Thick blood gushed out and merged together, spreading into a vivid yet gruesome red carpet.
One, two, three...
There were ten corpses in all—four bandits and six private soldiers. Besides them, three wounded men with severed arms or legs wailed at the rear of the group.
Raven's nostrils flared as he clenched his teeth tightly.
Even after adding together both his lives, he had never personally seen so many corpses, much less so much blood!
His instincts as a living creature made him unable to bear looking, but his reason told him that he had to adapt to all of this.
In this cruel world, those who could not adapt could only die!
If even he was like this, what about the private soldiers?
Their performance was not much better than Denise's. Their faces were deathly pale, and their hands trembled around their spears. Some had clearly already vomited, with the remnants hanging from their chests and dripping onto the ground.
But the results of two months of training showed themselves at this moment. No matter how badly their legs trembled or how terrified they were, the discipline ingrained in them had firmly held them in place and maintained the formation's order!
Boom—
The tightly shut gates suddenly burst open. Raven clearly saw his private soldiers experience a brief moment of panic, with several of them even leaning backward.
But immediately afterward, Simon, standing in the first row, let out a resounding roar: "For Lord Raven! Eagle Army, raise spears—"
The cry seemed to activate some kind of switch. The private soldiers stood at attention in perfect unison. "For Lord Raven!"
They spread their legs and thrust their spears straight ahead. Twenty-seven spears wove together into a brilliant flower of steel.
Eric was the flower's stamen. Clad in heavy armor, he stood there like an iron tower.
Heavy footsteps rang out. The bandits brandished their weapons and trampled through the blood as they charged out with howls. "Kill—"
The bandit Solar charged out in great strides, waving his curved blade. The tenacity and resilience of the private soldiers had far exceeded his expectations, but they had also revealed a fatal weakness—their commander.
As long as they dealt with Simon, they could completely destroy the others' morale!
Simon had realized this long ago as well. He and Solar locked eyes, each clearly seeing his own reflection in the other's gaze—one was a pale-faced recruit, while the other was a fierce bandit with a savage expression!
"Stab—" Simon shouted, thrusting out the spear in his hands.
At the same time, five more spears followed behind Simon's spearhead. The six men moved with the coordination of a single person!
Solar shifted slightly to the side, but three spears still stabbed into his chest and abdomen. His chainmail blocked the spearheads but could not dispel their force. His face suddenly paled, and he staggered backward, crashing into the companions charging behind him before falling to the ground with a clang!
"Stab—"
Before Solar could rise, six spears thrust out under Simon's lead. Two smashed into his shoulders, pinning him to the ground; two pierced his waist, leaving him unable to struggle; and the final two struck his brow and throat at the same time!
Pfft—
Blood erupted like a fountain, splattering across the faces of every private soldier and transforming Simon's handsome features into something demonic!
And they truly began to resemble demons. Their breathing quickened, their arms steadied, and a bloodthirsty desire even ignited in some of their eyes.
From that moment on, they knew that bandits were made of flesh and blood too, and that they would die when pierced by a spear—as long as they killed the enemy first, they would not die!
"Ah—"
"Mother—"
"My eyes!!!!"
Crying and shrieking rose one after another.
In the instant of that clash, Simon and his men speared Ansol to death. Yet two bandits also relied on their superior skills to charge into the formation. They took three private soldiers' lives, but left their own lives behind as well!
Amid the chaos, only Eric stood with his sword like an iron tower, letting the blood mist splash across him without moving an inch. He stared deeply at the hall, his breathing heavy and measured.
Heavy footsteps pounded the ground, tearing the already-ruined carpet into scraps. Beneath the firelight, a man's silhouette emerged. It was Anderson.
Dense Dark Qi wrapped around his body. In the pitch-black surroundings, it seemed to make his figure vanish. Boom—
Anderson infused his feet with battle aura, using tremendous force to push the blood slurry on the ground into a wave. He leaped high into the air, the Morningstar enhanced by Primary Giant Strength wrapped in ink-black battle aura as it swung in a circle and smashed toward Eric's helmet!
Eric spread his legs slightly, took the shield from his back, and raised it to meet the attack. Driven by his battle aura, the shield instantly lit up with dazzling radiance. Its previously pitted surface visibly became whole, and its thickness increased by at least half an inch!
Steel Qi had been born for war, turning its wielder into a fortress of steel!
Clang—
The Morningstar collided with the shield. Battle auras intertwined, exploding into a halo of black and white light!
Eric precisely adjusted the shield's angle, dispersing most of the incoming force.
Even so, when the Morningstar struck the smooth steel surface, it still shook the blood remaining on it into a fine mist. The hard spikes punched into the shield, and the black battle aura poured inside. Under the tearing force, the shield let out a dying groan!
Crack!
The sturdy shield split in two, and even a crack appeared in Eric's gauntlet.
Yet he had still firmly caught this heavy strike that could have smashed his skull!
His feet remained steady, and his breathing remained calm. His thick Hand-and-a-Half Sword had already thrust toward Anderson's throat!
The latter drew a deep breath. Not only did he refuse to retreat, he thrust out his chest to meet the attack!
Clang—
The blade smashed into the sturdy Enchanted Armor on Anderson's chest. The enormous impact forced him back two steps. He suddenly shoved two fingers into his mouth and blew a sharp whistle. "Screee—"
It was a signal—not to people, but to magical beasts!
The six first-tier Blood-Eyed Warhorses, though lacking riders to control them, had bodies and armor enough to trample these private soldiers clad only in Leather Armor!
He had refrained from using them earlier because he did not want his precious magical beasts to be lost here. But now he could no longer worry about that. As long as they could escape alive, he could earn everything back!
"Charge with me!!!"
Anderson roared again. The bandits' morale surged, and they howled as they poured toward the gate, intending to attack from within and without with the first-tier magical beasts!
But the expected sound of hooves never came.
Clang.
The Hand-and-a-Half Sword collided with the Enchanted Morningstar. The former bent slightly but still knocked back Anderson's attack. The latter anxiously swept his gaze around.
Where were the horses? Where were his horses!?
"Screee—"
Anderson blew another whistle, but still heard none of the familiar hoofbeats.
What in the world was going on!?
"Retreat—" Anderson ordered with bloodshot eyes. During that charge, two more bandits had lost their lives forever.
Why!?
Raven knew the answer.
Magical beasts were still magical beasts. Since he had led his men back to kill them, how could he possibly leave such a huge threat behind him?
He had not let his private soldiers waste time fighting the magical beasts. Instead, he had used another method—his hand crossbow.
This weapon had accompanied him for years. Its range was short, but its penetrating power was not weak. It could not pierce sturdy Enchanted Armor, but dealing with several domesticated magical beasts had been more than enough.
Denise, her face pale, endured the discomfort caused by the smell of blood and walked to Raven's side. "Raven, save my Weston..."
Raven said, "Weston isn't a foolish person. He—"
"I saw him!" Denise's voice rose slightly before lowering again. "He's covered in blood and lying in the hall, but he's still alive. I'm certain he's still alive. Please, Raven, save him!"
"Five thousand gold coins, and all of Fedro Commerce's shares!" Denise's eyes held the determination of someone burning her boats as she offered the highest price she could pay.
Raven slowly and firmly shook his head. "I have to take responsibility for my soldiers."
"But he's your younger brother too!" Denise's eyes were filled with desperate pleading. "As long as you can save Weston, I'll give you anything. Even... even..."
As she spoke, a faint, shy blush crept across her cheeks.
But Raven had already coldly shifted his gaze away.
In war, the defending side always possessed the greater advantage.
The terrain he had deliberately arranged could certainly trap the enemy like catching turtles in a jar. But if they launched a forced attack, the situation would be entirely different.
The gate was narrow, preventing the bandits from deploying their full strength. The same applied to his private soldiers. If they charged inside now, they might suffer further losses.
These soldiers, who had seen blood and killed before, would become the core and elite of his private army in the future. Every one of them was valuable. He absolutely could not waste them for nothing because of a single Weston.
"They're just a bunch of lowly serf soldiers! How could they beat us into this state!?" a bandit named Xinjila shouted in grief and outrage.
A whoosh split the air. Accompanied by a low groan, a heavy wooden wine cup smashed into his face, sending blood streaming from his nose.
Anderson withdrew his arm and slammed it heavily against the table. "Nonsense! There's no way they're serfs!"
In barely half an hour, he had lost a full ten men.
Ten!
They were all hardened bandits who had followed him in plundering and robbing, elites tempered through fights on the edge of a blade, the capital he had relied on to dominate the Bloody Highlands!
They carried weapons forged from fine steel and wore Steel Chainmail worth at least fifty gold coins!
Yet now, they had only managed to trade their lives for a dozen of Raven's private soldiers!
The combined equipment of those thirty-odd private soldiers was not even worth as much as the equipment of a single bandit!
Raven's strategy had indeed been brilliant. Step by step, he had lured Anderson into the trap and given his private soldiers the most advantageous terrain.
But that still could not explain an exchange ratio approaching one for one!
Anderson had fought noblemen's private soldiers before. Their equipment had been even better than that of the Eagle Army, which possessed only Leather Armor and spears. Yet whether in morale or resilience, they could not compare to the latter at all. Usually, killing just a few of the bravest would make the rest scatter in panic, leaving themselves at the enemy's mercy.
"They fight to the death without retreating, and their formation is airtight! They can't possibly be Raven's private soldiers. He must have borrowed elite troops from somewhere else! Even the Snow Maple Legion of the Snow Maple Territory is no better!"
His words echoed through the hall, and the bandits lowered their heads even further.
Serf soldiers were one thing. But if everyone outside was an elite soldier, how could they possibly break out?
Heavy despair lingered in Anderson's heart, leaving his mouth bitter. Then unwillingness surged within him.
Could he, the mighty "Scarface" Anderson, really die without meaning in this remote, impoverished backwater?
"Damn it!"
He viciously kicked the chair on the ground. It shot away and crashed down, followed by a shrill cry. "Ow—"
Anderson glared over and shouted, "Who is it!?"
"Chief, it's me! It's me!" Weston replied with a fawning smile as he crawled up like a fleshy worm.
With a metallic ring, Anderson hooked a curved blade up with his toe, rose, and walked toward Weston with an expressionless face.
If not for this damned man, Belly would not have gone missing, and the situation would not have become so dire!
Weston's fat face trembled nonstop as he wriggled backward like a maggot. "Don't kill me! I can—I can get you out!"
"I'm the second son of the Griffith Family, Raven's younger brother!"
"Oh? So what?" Anderson sneered. The scar on his face looked especially ferocious in the firelight. "Raven left you here as bait. He never intended to let you live. What makes you think you can keep us alive?"
Weston's mind spun at unprecedented speed. "He left me here to borrow your blade to kill me! He wants me dead! But he doesn't dare to do it himself!"
"Raven is sinister, cunning, despicable, and shameless! But he's also incredibly hypocritical. Whatever he does, he always finds some high-sounding excuse!"
"The Eagle Fortress was attacked. That's already humiliating enough. If he could save me but refused to, he'd definitely become a laughingstock among the nobles!"
"You can take me hostage and threaten him, forcing Raven to come inside himself!"
"Then you can swarm him, capture Raven, and drag him away. Those private soldiers were trained by him personally, so they definitely won't hurt him. You can all leave safely!"
Clap, clap, clap...
Anderson began applauding rhythmically. "As expected of a noble. Your skill at undermining your own family is truly masterful."
Weston plastered on a smile. "You flatter me, you flatter me..."
Anderson's expression turned cold. "But... there's still one problem. How do I know you aren't lying to me?"
"Besides, threats without anything to back them up never feel very convincing. Don't you agree?"
By the firelight, Anderson walked toward Weston step by step. The latter's eyes widened as he desperately wriggled backward. "No, no... no..."
"Ah—"
Creak.
The main door was pried open a crack.
A pig-like scream rang through the courtyard of Eagle Fortress. Immediately afterward, a plump arm was thrown out.
Anderson's voice rang out. "Raven! Your little brother Weston is in our hands!"
"Help me, Raven! Save me—save me!!!" Weston's voice rang out, then abruptly fell silent.
"I won't give you much time. For now, it's only one arm. If you're not inside within three minutes, I'll remove another arm. Three minutes after that, it'll be a thigh..."
"Lord Baron! You're a noble, at least. Are you really going to stand by and watch your own brother get killed piece by piece? Tsk, tsk, tsk. How cold-blooded, heartless, and useless!"
Everyone's eyes focused on Raven. Denise's eyes were filled with hope, but Eric and the numerous private soldiers did not want him to risk himself. They all shook their heads.
While cursing Weston inwardly, Raven put on a righteous expression and said, "Don't hurt my brother. Name whatever conditions you have!"
"Excellent! As expected of Lord Baron!" Anderson shouted. "Then come inside alone. If you dare bring any men, your brother is dead!"
"Shameless bandits! You're slandering my honor!" Raven abruptly threw the rapier in his hand to the ground. "I'll go in now, but if you dare hurt even a single finger of my brother's, don't expect to leave this castle alive!"
Simon's eyes grew misty.
Lord Raven was truly too kind! At a time like this, when they could immediately wipe out the bandits, he was still willing to risk himself for the sake of an underachieving younger brother who wasn't even related to him by blood.
From now on, I must train even harder and protect Lord Baron properly!
Raven started toward the hall, but Eric stopped him. The latter slowly shook his head, clearly unwilling to let Raven take the risk.
Raven patted the retainer on the shoulder and quietly tossed the Enchanted Dagger to the ground. "The back of his neck is the armor's weak point."
Amid Eric's astonishment, Raven calmly walked into the hall.
Boom.
The moment he entered the hall, the door slammed shut. Anderson wrapped an arm around Weston and pressed a scimitar against his neck. "We finally meet, Baron Raven."
Raven swept his gaze over the bandits on either side and straightened his collar. "Enough nonsense. What will it take for you to release my brother?"
"Excellent!" Anderson signaled to the bandits on either side. "It's simple. All you have to do is escort us for a while, Lord Baron."
Two bandits closed in from both sides. Raven barked, "Get lost!"
"I'm an Imperial Baron. Even if I'm to become a prisoner, I won't be touched by thieves like you!"
He glared at Anderson. "Now, release Weston immediately. I'll be your hostage!"
His forceful attitude immediately made the two bandits hesitate. Even Anderson felt a trace of respect rise in his heart.
Calm, forceful, arrogant!
This was exactly what the ideal noble in his heart should look like. When he thought about how he had lost to someone like this, much of his frustration faded.
"Don't believe him! He must be plotting something again!" Weston shrieked. "Just hold him down! He's a devil, a devil!"
"Shut up!" Anderson tightened the blade in his hand, and a thin line of blood immediately appeared across Weston's throat.
Traitors were always more detestable than enemies. A traitor within the enemy camp was no different.
Compared to Weston, that beast who could even sell out his own mother, Anderson trusted Raven a little more.
"Baron Raven, I can agree to your request," Anderson said. "Raise your hands high and walk toward me slowly. That will be better for both of us."
"I hope you'll keep your word." Raven raised his hands and walked toward Anderson one step at a time.
The latter swallowed, his heart pounding with excitement.
He had indeed lost many men today, but as long as he could capture Raven alive, he would have fulfilled Hyde Slate's commission.
With the Slate Family's support, the blood he had lost would soon be replenished, and he would rise again in the Bloody Highlands!
Just as Raven was three steps away from him, his expression suddenly changed. He shouted toward Anderson's back, "Mustache, what are you doing!?"
Anderson's heart jolted. Had Belly returned silently at this moment? Was he planning to kill him and take his position as leader?
He hurriedly turned around, but apart from the empty corridor, there was nothing there!
Anderson abruptly turned his head back. His pupils suddenly contracted, because he saw that Raven had somehow leveled his arm. In his hand was a dark, cocked hand crossbow, and a ghostly blue light shimmered on the bolt!
Raven's expression was as calm as a lake as he pulled the trigger.
Whoosh—
The crossbow string snapped taut from its bent position, kicking up a cloud of dust as it launched the bolt. The three-edged steel fletching made the entire bolt spin as it tore through the air. Bathed in the firelight, it plunged toward them like a dark star falling from the sky.
Anderson felt his scalp prickle, because the bolt's target wasn't him—it was Weston in his arms!
He threw Weston aside. The bolt struck the wall with a clang. Anderson wiped the cold sweat from his brow and roared, "Raven, have you gone mad!?"
"Tsk, what a pity." Raven stowed the hand crossbow, then turned and charged toward the entrance amid everyone's astonishment. He yanked the door open. "The bandits broke their word and are trying to kill the hostage! Charge!!!"
Eric smashed through the door at unprecedented speed and stormed inside like a bulldozer.
The Hand-and-a-Half Sword in his hand swept out in an arc, batting away the bandit charging from the left. Then he roared and rushed toward Anderson!
Before the bandit on the right could react, the private soldiers charging through the entrance had already stabbed him to death with a flurry of spears!
"Raven!!!" Anderson cried out in grief and fury. He finally understood that he had been deceived by this seemingly upright man.
What honor? What credibility? It was all just talk!
And I trusted you so much!
This Raven was a shameless, despicable scoundrel—a genuine Sand Rat! Even among bandits, there were few as shameless as him!
He swung his mace and charged toward Raven, but Eric blocked his path. He channeled his battle qi into the mace and swept it sideways. "Get out of my way!"
"Not a chance!" Eric likewise poured his battle qi into the Hand-and-a-Half Sword. The sword, which had already been somewhat warped, rang out with a sharp clang, becoming keen and gleaming as it met the mace!
Enchanted Weapons were powerful, but Steel Qi could greatly strengthen a weapon's toughness and durability.
Clang—
The mace and Hand-and-a-Half Sword collided. Steel Qi and Dark Qi intertwined, erupting into a hazy radiance like a cloud of mist. The latter suddenly snapped in two, while the force shattered the cracks that had already appeared in Eric's gauntlet!
At the same time, Anderson couldn't withstand the vibration rebounding through the mace's handle and released his grip. Amid flying shards of stone, the mace crashed into a pillar with a roar.
Eric said in a low voice, "Surrender!"
"Dream on!" Anderson wiped his right hand across his belt, and a dark scimitar suddenly appeared. Judging from the blood-colored glow faintly visible across it, this was another Enchanted Weapon!
He had Spatial Equipment!
"Die!" Anderson swung the scimitar down at Eric's head.
Eric remained calm despite his alarm. He poured battle qi into his armor and raised both arms to block.
With his battle qi reinforcing him, he was confident he could stop this strike!
However, just as the blade was about to collide with his arms, Anderson's wrist suddenly twisted like a snake. The scimitar traced a strange arc, bypassed his arms, and slashed into Eric's left shoulder!
This was a combat technique passed down in the Bloody Highlands, said to have originated from the serpentfolk—the Sliding Scale Slash.
Shing—
Sparks burst out!
Even plate armor forged from refined steel could not withstand the edge of an Enchanted Weapon. A streak of vivid red sprayed through the air, while Anderson's face gained a hint of color.
Tier-Two Enchantment: Primary Bloodsuck!
With a deafening bang, Anderson kicked Eric to the ground and charged toward Raven. Raven had already loaded another bolt and was aiming it straight at Anderson's brow.
A cold smile tugged at Anderson's lips. A hand crossbow like this could never penetrate his armor!
But just then, immense force struck him from behind, preventing him from advancing another inch. Eric had already risen and locked him firmly in his arms with his right arm!
"Let go!" Anderson slammed an elbow into Eric's waist. The latter's armor suddenly caved inward, and blood sprayed from his mouth, but his arms only tightened further!
"If you want to die, I'll send you to your death!" Seeing the Eagle Army closing in around him, Anderson lowered his head deeply. He twisted his wrist, reversed his grip on the scimitar, and suddenly stabbed backward!
At this angle, Raven's bolt could only strike his helmet, while the scimitar in his hand was more than capable of taking Eric's life!
The sound of a steel gauntlet scraping against armor came from behind his head. A cold smile curled across Anderson's lips. With your fingers, you think you can pry open my plate armor?
Pfft.
A flash of cold light. Blood sprayed through the air.
Clang.
The blood-red scimitar fell to the ground. Anderson raised his head in disbelief, thick, salty blood surging from his mouth. "Why..."
His answer was a crossbow bolt that steadily grew larger in his pupils.
Thud.
That was the final sound Anderson heard.
The sound of the bolt piercing his skull and entering his brain.
Eric released his hold, and he and Anderson fell backward to the ground together, gasping heavily. An Enchanted Dagger stained with blood rolled across the floor.
He had been holding that dagger just now when he stabbed it into the back of Anderson's neck.
Enchanted Equipment wasn't without flaws, especially full-body armor. For various reasons, certain areas could not retain enough magical power and thus became relatively weak points.
The weak point in Anderson's armor was the back of his neck.
Raven walked over, took out a Healing Potion, pulled out the stopper, and poured it into Eric's mouth. "Weren't you afraid I was giving you false information?"
"With Lord Baron risking himself like that, I couldn't hide behind you either." Eric split his mouth into a grin, revealing red teeth stained with blood. "Besides, didn't it work?"
Raven knew that from this moment onward, he had truly won the loyalty of this retainer.
With the leader's death, the battle in the hall soon drew to a close. Under the assault of the private soldiers, the remaining bandits either died or surrendered—though most of them died.
The private soldiers had all suffered greatly at the hands of the bandits, and quite a few of their comrades had just died. Naturally, they were somewhat more ruthless when they struck.
Raven swept his gaze across the hall and saw Weston lying on the ground. Though the man had fainted, his chest was still rising and falling. His gaze landed on a scimitar on the floor, and just as he was about to pick it up, footsteps sounded behind him.
"Weston—"
Denise charged in through the blood covering the floor, immediately locating her son and pulling him into her arms.
"Oh! My poor little brother—" Raven suddenly pinched the root of his thigh and rushed over with tears in his eyes. "I failed you as an older brother and let these damned bandits hurt you. Oh... my poor little brother!"
His hand gently slipped around Denise's slender waist as he stroked it repeatedly. "Aunt Denise, please don't grieve too much. I believe that with the power of the Lord of Light, he'll definitely recover!"
Denise turned around and glared fiercely at him, then slapped his lecherous hand away from her waist.
It was true that the Church of Light possessed divine arts capable of regrowing severed limbs, but they required at least a seventh-tier caster!
Seventh tier!
Not to mention where they could find a Grand Divine Spellcaster of the seventh tier—even if they found one, Denise did not have the resources to ask them for help.
For an existence like that to cast a high-level divine art even once would cost at least hundreds of thousands, or even over a million, Gold Coins!
Denise was in no mood to argue with Raven. She shouted, "Simon, and... whoever else! Stop running around uselessly! Can't you see that Weston has already fainted? Come help me get him to the Church!"
Simon's expression was cold, his tone stiff. "Lady Denise, we only obey Lord Baron's orders."
"Haha, so you're Denise!" A recently captured bandit burst into laughter. "Baron Raven! I have information to tell you. Promise to spare my life, and I'll tell you—I've never killed anyone from Eagle Territory!"
Raven raised an eyebrow. "That depends on the value of the information."
"I know who betrayed you and revealed this lady's location!"
Before you continue