Along the way, there were still bandits foolish enough to cause trouble for the caravan.
Linley never even lifted a hand. He simply sent Haeru to deal with them. Even ninth-level warriors could not last more than a few moves against Haeru, let alone these bandits and mounted brigands-the strongest among them was only eighth-level.
Haeru charged into the crowd like a hungry wolf plunging into a flock of sheep, killing one with a swipe of a paw and two with a sweep of the tail. The bandits' blades could not even cut the fur on Haeru's body; instead, the recoil split the skin between their own thumbs and forefingers. In less time than it took to drink a cup of tea, over a dozen bandits lay dead across the ground. The few remaining turned and fled, abandoning even their blades.
Haeru stood in the middle of the road and flicked that tail, not even breathing hard.
Luya sat on the wagon, still holding his driving whip, his mouth hanging open for a long time. The merchants beside him wore the same expressions. They had seen powerful fighters before, but never anything like this-a magical beast mowing down a group of bandits like grass.
After Haeru displayed that terrifying strength, Luya and the others became even more respectful toward Linley.
Before, they had thought Linley was an ordinary eighth-level warrior, and hiring him as a guard had been a bargain. Now they thought he was an important figure, the sort who traveled with magical beasts.
Luya had a vague feeling that the name sounded familiar. Had he heard it when passing the Proulx Gallery in the main city? But he did not venture to ask.
Especially given the strength Linley's magical beast had displayed, he was certainly someone extraordinary. Luya