737. The Greatest Trial

The soaked leather whip lashed down. After a muffled crack, a white welt split open in the flesh, then was filled by the blood that welled out.

Screams echoed through the magnificent hall.

Grossa, the great slave owner of Silver Sand Bay, panted heavily, one hand on his waist, the tip of his whip still dripping blood. In front of him hung more than a dozen islanders.

"Run? Run! I gave you food, gave you a place to live, let you survive until today, and now you want to run?" He flung the whip out hard, drawing another scream. "Silver Sand Bay is only so big! Where do you think you can run? Damned slaves. You should all be butchered and fed to the dogs!"

Beside him stood the elite guards he had paid a fortune to maintain. Their strength was on a completely different level from the security force that kept order on the island outside the estate.

Boom—!

The front doors were kicked open, the panels smashing to the floor. A magic arrow shot in from outside, flying straight for Grossa's face.

The guard reacted quickly. He lunged over, grabbed Grossa by the collar, and dragged him down. The arrow skimmed over the slave owner's scalp and drove into the breastplate of the guard behind him.

The plate armor forged of fine steel was pierced through as if it were made of paper. Blood spread from around the arrow shaft. The man gave a muffled groan and fell backward.

"Assassins, assassins! Kill them! Kill them all!" Grossa scrambled up from the floor and shrieked out the order.

All the guards in the hall charged toward the assassins outside, while Grossa himself drew the dead guard's sword and rushed toward the slaves hanging there.

Outside the door, Sophia stood