In the small town, Henwell casually picks a tavern to rest.

  After a peaceful night’s sleep, he sets out the next morning and notices many mercenaries and rangers already geared up, heading out of town.

  Just outside the town, Henwell spots a group of rangers clumsily examining tracks on the ground.

  He can’t help but sigh. Though Lumir Duchy has plenty of mercenaries and rangers, their skills pale compared to other nations.

  Compared to the professional mercenaries of Tusyat, the mercenary capital of Ika, these folks are downright incompetent. Many wouldn’t even qualify for a mercenary license.

  Henwell chuckles, shakes his head, and urges his horse eastward.

  A few hours ter, a rge group of mercenaries and rangers rushes up from behind.

  Spotting Henwell, one calls out, “Hey! Have you seen which way an injured man went?”

  Henwell points east. “He went that way!”

  The group thunders off, making Henwell ugh aloud.

  These fools didn’t even recognize him from earlier outside the town.

  Still, Henwell doesn’t deceive them, the direction he gives is accurate.

  He’s an excellent tracker himself.

  Though the injured man tried to cover his tracks and set up several false trails, none of it fools Henwell’s sharp eyes.

  He easily picks out the direction the wounded man took.

  After riding about fifty kilometers, Henwell reaches the outskirts of a small city.

  Night has fallen, and the city is under curfew with its gates closed.

  Henwell settles to rest in a nearby vilge outside the city.

  Upon entering, he notices clear signs of battle.

  The ground is stained with blood and scattered with torn flesh, while several bodies lie piled against the walls.

  The vilgers have tightly shut their doors and windows, and even the vilge guards hide inside their barracks, unwilling to come out.

  Henwell gnces at the chaotic scene and heads straight to a small inn in the vilge.

  He knocks for a long time, but no one answers.

  Henwell pulls out a few silver coins and tosses them through the gap in the door.

  After a while, still no response.

  Frustrated, Henwell knocks again. “Hey! If you’re not open for business, you shouldn’t have picked up the money I threw in. Now that you’ve taken it, why won’t you open the door? Are you running a ‘bck’ market inn or something?”

  His words stir some noise inside.

  After a moment, a voice calls out, “I didn’t take your money! You should leave! That was money I dropped myself!”

  Henwell raises an eyebrow, then tosses in a few more silver coins.

  The voice sounds confused. “I said leave quickly! I’m not opening the door, and I won’t give your money back!”

  Henwell steps back. “That wasn’t for staying the night.”

  “What then… ah! What are you doing!”

  Before the voice finishes, Henwell suddenly kicks open the door.

  Even with controlled force, the thick wooden door’s hinges snap, and the whole door crashes inward, nearly hitting the person inside.

  Seeing the trembling innkeeper holding a short sword, Henwell grins. “Like I said, that wasn’t for lodging, that’s for fixing this door!”

  The innkeeper looks stunned as Henwell strides inside.

  “Give me a room, get hot water ready, bring some food! Also, take care of my horses, give them some beans mixed with raw eggs. If you have fresh vegetables or fruit, feed them some too.”

  Before the innkeeper can reply, a fsh of gold nds in his hand.

  Realizing the coin is genuine, the innkeeper’s attitude shifts immediately, cheerfully welcoming Henwell inside to rest.

  After eating and freshening up, Henwell lies down to rest.

  Late at night, sounds of a fierce fight break out on the street outside.

  The injured man Henwell saw earlier now leans heavily against a wall, covered in blood.

  Deep wounds on his right hand make it impossible to wield a weapon.

  He can only hold a knife in his left hand, eyes sharp and wary as attackers close in around him.

  One of the mercenaries shouts loudly, “Silver Bde, it’s over for you. Stop struggling pointlessly. Instead of being torn apart by bdes, just surrender. I’ll make it quick. I promise you won’t suffer.”

  The man called Silver Bde spits out a mouthful of blood, gripping his longsword backward as he gestures to the crowd.

  He’s badly wounded in several pces, his face and blood showing signs of severe poisoning.

  Everyone knows Silver Bde is on his st legs, but no one dares to strike first.

  If they drag it out, Silver Bde won’t hold on much longer.

  But the mercenaries are anxious, they clearly don’t want to waste time.

  After all, plenty of others are eager to snatch this “business” opportunity.

  Having finally gotten this chance, none of them want to share it.

  Still, no one wants to die needlessly.

  Though Silver Bde is gravely injured, everyone knows he still has some fight left.

  Taking him down will cost at least a third of the dozens of mercenaries present their lives.

  While some run off to fetch more arrows, others loudly taunt Silver Bde, trying to provoke him.

  Silver Bde looks at them with a tinge of sorrow.

  He never imagined he’d die at the hands of these lowlifes.

  His life has always been smooth sailing, he never failed a mission.

  He’s escorted the weak, taken contracts to kill.

  He’s stood up for the poor and done dirty work for nobles.

  He’s no saint, but he shouldn’t die at the hands of these trash.

  If he’d known this would be his fate, he would have died over a month ago at the hands of that powerful man.

  At least then, he would have died with some dignity, facing a renowned figure.

  Speaking of which, it was because of that killing god he met that all these misfortunes followed.

  The wounded man nicknamed Silver Bde is none other than Kleios, the one Henwell saw at the Peace Tavern.

  He crushed his own tongue to survive Henwell’s attack and escaped with his life.

  Afterward, he found a chance to kill the employer who gave him false information.

  That should have been the end of it, but during the killing, he let a witness escape.

  It was a little girl held captive by that employer, and he felt some pity for her.

  Instead of wiping out all witnesses, he let the girl go.

  What he never expected was that the girl had powerful backing.

  They sent people relentlessly after him, nearly driving him to the brink.

  He doesn’t understand, he saved that girl, yet her family hunts him down.

  With no way out, he fled the outskirts of the Western Federation and took refuge in Lumir Duchy.

  But by a twist of fate, he crippled a young man who happened to be the heir of one of the twelve members of the Lumir Trade Alliance.

  That was like poking a hornet’s nest.

  The endless pursuit and schemes have now cornered this mute ranger, driving him to the edge of despair.