At that moment, the gates of the mountain stronghold opened.
A troop immediately rushed out from within, numbering over a hundred. Each wore silver armor and carried a long spear, standing in neat, uniform ranks like an ancient regular army.
At their head was a middle-aged man riding a tall horse. He was powerfully built, with a vicious face. One eye was covered by a black eyepatch, while the other stood wide open, gleaming coldly. A fierce, murderous aura radiated from his entire body.
The moment this group appeared, it was clear they were a band of ruthless bandits—well-trained and steeped in slaughter, enough to make countless people quake at the mere mention of them. Even adults would tremble all over upon seeing them.
But none of these children were ordinary. When they saw the bandits emerge, every one of them became incomparably excited, as though little stars were shining in their eyes.
"Whoa, these are the legendary bandits? They're so cool. Look at those scars—those marks must have been chopped into them by someone, right? They look so real, even more impressive than on TV."
"These weapons are amazing too. They're giving off a cold gleam. They might be sharp enough to slice through iron like mud."
"I heard their main job is robbing homes and looting houses. They run around all the time and never need to attend class or do homework."
"No homework? Wouldn't teachers criticize them? Make them stand through class or smack their palms?"
"Dummy, they don't have to attend class, so how could they have teachers?"
"That's true. But if they don't study or attend class, wouldn't they know nothing and be really dumb?"
"They may be a little dumb, but they're vicious."
The children chattered away, staring at the bandits like curious babies.