Detect Thoughts

Amidst the cheers, Ye Wei'an began treating the next two severely wounded men without a moment's rest.

Two more orbs of healing Spellfire ignited simultaneously.

By the time the fourth wounded man struggled through the radiance to offer his thanks, the eyes of the remaining two were already brimming with anticipation.

Ye Wei'an walked over to the sixth casualty.

This was a very young guard, perhaps only sixteen or seventeen, whose thigh had been slashed with a wound so deep the bone was visible; excessive blood loss had already left him delirious.

The young guard, who had been growing cold, suddenly felt a warm hand press against his forehead. A reassuring flow of warmth then surged from his brow, gradually permeating his limbs and bones.

The agonizing pain receded like a tide, his severe injuries mended rapidly, and his drained vitality began to return.

The young guard struggled to open his eyes, seeing only a youth in noble attire, his body wreathed in magical brilliance.

"You... Young Master..." The youth's voice was hoarse, and tears welled up instantly.

Finding strength from nowhere, he struggled to kneel on one knee. "Thank you, Young Master! Thank you for saving me! My... my life is yours! By the grace of Helm, the God of Guardians, I, James Anvil, will surely repay your kindness!"

"Me too!"

"And me!"

"Thank you for your mercy, Young Master!"

The other wounded men who had been pulled back from the brink of death also moved to pay their respects with great emotion.

Ye Wei'an quickly stopped them.

Witnessing all this, every guard nearby—whether lightly wounded or unscathed, whether they had personally received treatment or not—felt a surge of reverence in their hearts.

Before this, they had protected this illegitimate son of the Lord only out of orders and duty.

The objects of their true loyalty were Baron Harandir Xiaxing himself and his legitimate heir.

But after this bloody battle, everything had changed.

The strength and benevolence displayed by Young Master Ye Wei'an were plain for all to see.

Under normal circumstances, hiring a priest at a temple to cast [Cure Wounds] would cost at least ten gold coins, yet the Young Master had treated them for free.

Some even harbored "treasonous" thoughts: this illegitimate Young Master was perhaps far superior to the Baron's legitimate heir, that arrogant younger brother of his.

If only he weren't a bastard.

Ailian had been standing a short distance away, watching her master with sparkling eyes, making no attempt to hide her pride.

Once Ye Wei'an finished the final treatment, she trotted over. "Young Master! You are truly amazing! They used to talk about you behind your back... but I knew you could do it!"

Only then did she notice the subtle fatigue between Ye Wei'an's brows and hurriedly reached out to support him with concern. "You must be tired, Young Master? Shall I help you rest for a while?"

"Not yet."

In truth, the continuous spellcasting had drained much of his energy, but he could not rest just yet.

He had more important things to do.

"Cain," he turned to the knight, "bring that Barbarian over."

"Yes!"

Soon, two guards dragged the bandit leader over, one on each side.

The powerful Barbarian was bound tightly, and the wound on his abdomen had been crudely bandaged.

Seeing the man's current state, Ye Wei'an truly realized how terrifying a Barbarian's vitality could be.

The blood loss and the exhaustion following his rage had not finished him; in less than half an hour, he had regained enough strength to glare fiercely at him.

But his arrogance would end here.

At this moment, the guards' loyalty to Ye Wei'an was at an all-time high.

For a mere defeated commander to dare look at their respected Young Master with such offensive eyes—this was no longer just an ordinary prisoner; he deserved a heavy hand.

The two guards unceremoniously pressed him into the mud, forcing him to kneel before Ye Wei'an.

The Barbarian leader struggled to lift his head.

His face was smeared with blood, grease, and dirt, yet his eyes refused to yield.

He glared fixedly at Ye Wei'an and spat, "Bah! You damn mage brat, only good for tricks and schemes... If you have the guts, untie these ropes and face me one-on-one!"

"Insolent!" The guard, incensed, kicked him heavily in his injured ribs with an iron-shod boot.

"Urgh!" Struck directly on his wound, the Barbarian convulsed in pain, yet he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out, letting only a ragged wheeze escape his throat as his eyes grew even more venomous.

Ye Wei'an ignored the wails of the loser and asked directly, "Who sent you to kill me? If you speak clearly, you might suffer less."

"No one sent me," the Barbarian stiffened his neck and sneered. "I'm a bandit! This is what I do! You noble fat sheep deserve to be slaughtered! My only regret is that I was blind and didn't chop you down with the first strike!"

"Who are you calling 'I'!" The guard, enraged by this, moved to strike him again.

Ye Wei'an raised a hand to stop the guard.

After that last kick, the Barbarian's wound had already begun to seep blood, and he did not want to waste his last 1st-circle spell on a prisoner.

He then lowered his head to look at the Barbarian.

"Robbery?" He sneered. "When your subordinate first charged into my carriage, I heard exactly what he said to me. He didn't shout 'fat sheep.' Care to guess what he actually said?"

The Barbarian's breathing hitched imperceptibly.

"He said, 'Target acquired,'" Ye Wei'an bluffed. "Tell me, who exactly was the 'target' he was looking for?"

In truth, the bandit hadn't expressed any such thing, and Ye Wei'an only held mere suspicions regarding the mastermind behind the attack.

But bolstered by the [Actor] feat, he asked with such conviction that he successfully deceived the Barbarian.

The bandit leader's face finally turned ugly. "...Uthgar curse him, that blabbermouth idiot!"

"I'll ask one last time," Ye Wei'an straightened up, his voice returning to its initial calm. "Who is the one pulling your strings?"

"Want to know? Hahaha... dream on! If you've got the guts, just kill me!" With his lie exposed, the Barbarian had nothing left but stubborn defiance.

Watching the Barbarian's die-hard display, Ye Wei'an was not surprised.

It would have been strange if a cutthroat who licked blood off a blade gave in so easily.

"Stubbornness is fine," he said, his voice level, devoid of anger or joy. "But even if you don't speak, I have ways of knowing what you're thinking."

With that, Ye Wei'an closed his eyes, focused his mind, and began to channel his mental energy.

2nd-level spell—[Detect Thoughts].

A flicker of violet light flashed in Ye Wei'an's eyes.

A cold consciousness, like a tentacle, quietly pierced into the Barbarian's mind.

The first things Ye Wei'an perceived were the surging surface emotions:

The burning pain from the wound in his side, the deep-seated weakness after the rage faded, the hatred toward the mage before him, and the carefully hidden fear and unease regarding magic.

The so-called toughness of a guy like this was merely the bravado of a hardened criminal; at his core, he was weak and hollow, just that most people couldn't reach his vital point.

Ye Wei'an's consciousness did not linger, continuing to probe deeper into the Barbarian's thoughts.

His mental intrusion was quite brutal, without any consideration for whether he might be detected.

After all, a mere barbarian, not a spellcaster, lacked the mental fortitude to resist his psychic tentacles.

"Ugh... what..." The Barbarian's eyes snapped open, and for the first time, genuine terror appeared on his face.

He felt a cold, slimy tentacle trying to pry open his skull and burrow into his brain.

"What... what did you do to me?! Get out! Get out of my head!"

He shook his head violently, trying to shake the thing out of his brain, but his inferior mental defenses were like paper before Ye Wei'an's powerful psychic force.

The barriers of memory shattered like fragile glass, and the thought tentacles drove straight in. Flashing fragments of memory began to surface uncontrollably; as soon as they were touched, the scenes within became visible.

The first to appear were the memories most important to the Barbarian:

Ye Wei'an saw a scrawny boy in a tribal camp on the northern tundra, beaten bloody by older children over half a piece of black bread as hard as a stone...

He saw a female corpse lying in the snow, the boy shaking her in vain, finally prying open her clenched fingers to take a small totem carving...

He saw the thin youth snap the neck of a wild deer with his bare hands for the first time, the warm blood spraying out, mixed with fear and a twisted sense of pleasure...

He saw the strong man hold a coming-of-age ceremony for himself, giving himself the name Grumman, meaning "the cruel."

He saw the adult Grumman head south to the Sword Coast with a passing mercenary company...

He saw Grumman earn the title of "Butcher" through mission after mission...

He saw the "Butcher," in a fit of rage after an argument, kill his teammates and be forced to flee the Sword Coast, never to look back...

Fragments of memory flashed by, and the Barbarian's life unfolded before his eyes.

But these were not what he wanted.

Ye Wei'an quickly filtered through the useless information. Finally, in a more recent memory fragment, he saw a familiar scene:

It was a noisy, crude town made of wood and stone—the original owner's memory held an impression—it was Firefall Town, the only town in Firefall Valley.

This place was only a few dozen miles from where they were attacked, and reaching Firefall Town meant entering the territory ruled by the Summerstar Family.

Ye Wei'an felt a surge of joy.

Target acquired.