The group of "refugees" were taken aback by the question, and then became even more furious.
"Forget about admitting it or not, you ambushed our guards, that's a fact!"
Facing more than a dozen dark gun barrels, Kamlin's face remained completely calm. He raised his hand to signal the young soldiers behind him to remain calm.
"According to the rules set by Lord Erdtree, those who commit armed robbery may be sentenced to death, depending on the severity of the offense."
"Those who fund, condone, or conspire with bandits are all accomplices and shall be punished the same as them."
"Since those people are your guards, it means you condone your subordinates' violence. Now, lay down your weapons and obediently accept detention, and you'll suffer less."
Kamlin had already figured it out: these people were definitely after the supplies they were carrying.
Although they were neatly dressed and escorted by guards, they did not carry much essential supplies such as food.
On their side, however, there were thirty Horseclaw laden with leather bags and water sacks—enough life-saving supplies to support hundreds of people as they made their way to the Valley of the Wind of the Wind.
After spending time with the Pejite refugees, they developed a deep hatred for the desert bandits.
Don't say things like "they only want money, not lives"—in this desert, taking supplies is tantamount to murder.
Moreover, the group of guys who instructed the guards to impersonate robbers clearly didn't care about the lives of the victims, nor did they care about the rules of the " Erdtree ".
"They won't listen to reason, so they'll have to suffer the consequences! Kill them!" The robbers had clearly lost their patience and immediately gave the order to act.
Bang bang bang! Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!
Gunfire abruptly shattered the silence, the dull thud of a single rifle mingling with the rapid bursts of automatic weapons.
However, ten figures stepped forward almost simultaneously, standing shoulder to shoulder with Kamlin.
They raised their arms in unison, crossing their fists in front of their foreheads.
Ding ding ding ding--!
A series of crisp, pleasant impacts rang out, and without exception, both large-caliber single bullets and light bullets fired in rapid succession were deflected by the pale golden barrier.
In contrast, the eleven Blessed Warrior didn't even flinch.
The guards who fired the shots stared wide-eyed, their mouths agape.
Can a human body block a bullet?
Isn't that something only Sea of Corruption worms would do?
"Charge!" Kamlin drew his longsword and spearheaded the charge. "Take down these bandits, and try to keep some alive."
In his view, even villains, as long as they haven't committed a crime punishable by death, still have value in their lives and labor.
When one's own combat strength is overwhelmingly superior, there is no need to create unnecessary bloodshed.
"Clear!"
The young Blessed Warrior also drew their swords from their waists, but none of them even activated the " Order's Blade ".
The sharpness of the Ceramic Steel itself, combined with the power and speed of the Blessed, is more than enough to deal with the enemies before us.
"How is that possible?!"
"Stop them! Quickly!"
"What are you all standing there for? Get him!"
The "refugees" on the other side panicked completely, shouting in a flustered manner.
The guard frantically pulled out new bullets from his waist, loaded them into the gun, and fired a second volley of bullets, but it was all in vain.
Even the Insect Claw mercenaries, fully equipped with Storm Rifle and carrying large amounts of explosives, need to rely on cover and concentrated fire from multiple units to pose a threat to the Blessed Warrior.
With just a few broken guns, they couldn't penetrate the Shield of Immutability. The figure on the main road rushed towards the guards like an arrow, and then the battle turned into a one-sided disarmament.
The guards were about to raise their guns to parry or draw their swords when they saw a blur before their eyes, and their rifles were neatly sliced in half, while their steel swords snapped like paper.
All the guards who tried to resist or escape were struck precisely on the back of the neck by the hilt of their swords and collapsed to the ground.
This group collapsed even faster than the first; how long they could hold out depended solely on their initial distance from the Blessed Warrior when they charged.
Clearly, the twenty people now lying on the ground in a state of infantile sleep were standing a little too close together.
Not far away, those once arrogant "refugees" were now ashen-faced, trembling, and their legs were soaked with sweat.
Invulnerable to blades and spears, swift as a ghost—this was no ordinary caravan guard; he was even stronger than the most powerful explorer they had ever seen!
Which country or faction secretly trained this army?
Seeing that all was lost, the warriors, radiating golden light, slowly approached, and they made a wise choice.
"My lords! My lords! Spare me!"
The fat man who had been shouting the loudest at the beginning suddenly knelt down on the ground with a "thud".
"It was my fault for being blind and ignorant! I have offended you esteemed officials! Please spare my life!"
The others also seemed to wake up from a dream, and they kowtowed repeatedly, their cries of wailing and begging for mercy filling the air.
Kamlin and the others exchanged glances, all able to see the helplessness in each other's eyes.
That's too easy. Aren't the Dorok People supposed to be fierce, warlike, and adventurous explorers who fight to the death?
These guys in front of me are utterly vulnerable, except for being a little cunning; their willpower is laughably weak.
----The dividing line for cleaning up the battlefield----
Soon, all thirty "refugees" were tightly bound.
"Speak! Who are you? Why are you robbing us? If you can satisfy me, I might consider sparing your lives."
The interrogation was naturally conducted by Kamlin himself.
In a desperate attempt to seize a chance, the group immediately began to speak, each one eager to do so, fearing that they would miss their opportunity if they spoke too late.
"I'll talk! I'll talk! We are—we escaped from Pejite!"
"We didn't mean to rob you gentlemen—we simply had no other choice."
"We left the city in such a hurry that we didn't bring enough food and water. If we hadn't robbed them, we wouldn't have made it to Pejite at all!"
Amidst the cacophony of voices, the truth was pieced together.
These people were indeed the original "nobles" of Pejite City.
In loosely organized city-states like Pejite, the so-called nobles are mostly heads of large families who control certain trading channels and possess private armies, or officials under the council of Council of Elders and their relatives.
The reason they ran away was simple: the Council of Elders ' army had been defeated a few days earlier.
Now, the Pejite City is under the control of the rebels, and the first thing to do is to settle old scores. These "masters" who used to act arrogantly and domineeringly have naturally become the primary targets.
Having received word of the incident, they immediately packed their valuables, took their guards, and fled in panic.
As for why they robbed the rescue team, as they said, it was because they had to leave the city in a hurry and there was no time to gather supplies.
So they came up with this "win-win" solution: send some guards disguised as bandits to "clear the way" ahead.
If they can rob someone, they will; if they can't, they'll stage an accident. If an ordinary caravan encounters thirty armed guards, who are equipped with at least five automatic weapons, they will usually choose to pay up to avoid trouble.
Unfortunately, this time they encountered no ordinary caravan.
When they received the news that the advance team had been wiped out, they didn't believe it, thinking it was just an excuse made up by that cowardly deserter.
When they arrived in person, they stumbled upon the Blessed Warrior, a group of "monsters" they couldn't comprehend.
Meila listened to these confessions, her heart filled with mixed emotions.
The civil war in the Kingdom of Pejite, which had lasted for months, seemed to have finally ended with a victory for the rebels.
But how many families were torn apart, lives lost, and homes displaced in this power struggle that lasted for months?
Pejite never had accurate population statistics, and no one cared about the speculators who came and went like flowing water.
But judging from the refugee settlements stretching for kilometers outside the city when she left, the number of people who were displaced or even died Silencio as a result could probably be counted in units of "square".
Kamlin saw the heaviness and sorrow that crossed Meila's face, and knew that she was grieving for her people.
He stepped forward and gently patted Meila's shoulder.
"Don't be sad. We came here to help those refugees, didn't we?"
"We cannot change the chaos and suffering of the past, but now, with the power of Lord Erdtree, we have the ability to help those who are suffering."
"Yes, I know." Meila wiped away the tears from her eyes, then adopted her usual carefree demeanor. "Let's go, I'll take you to see my hometown. There are definitely more people there who need help!"
Seeing the girl cheer up, Kamlin smiled.
"Let's go, let's set off for Pejite!"
7