Before long, the carriage surrounded by bandits was no longer alone; there were now two carriages.
This was an action Motte instructed without hesitation upon seeing the incoming carriage was just as undefended as the one on this side, with no guards or knights in sight.
The bandits seed to have undergone so degree of training. At Motte’s command, they quickly mobilized, diverting a large group to surround the incoming carriage, which looked even more luxurious.
However, upon surrounding the carriage, the bandits suddenly paused, then, like beasts with gleaming eyes, they fixated intently on the driver’s seat of the luxurious carriage.
The reason was simple.
Seated in the driver’s seat, driving the horses, was a girl whose beauty was sowhat excessive.
"You, what are you doing...?"
The girl seed not to realize what was happening, or perhaps she did not react quickly enough, shrinking back as she spoke to the bandits who had surrounded her and the carriage without explanation.
The girl was petite, with a figure more voluptuous than one would expect for her age, and a face so exquisitely crafted it resembled a porcelain doll. Her light gray hair, which shimred slightly, stretched down to her calves, and her similarly gray eyes conveyed a sense of vulnerability that instinctively triggered a protective urge in others.
In her arms, she held a dazzling golden sword, which clearly had a significant history, but for now, it was forgotten by the bandits present.
Their eyes held nothing but the excessively beautiful girl with the excessively fine figure; the only thing their gazes conveyed was desire and nothing but desire.
"How, how could this happen?"
Gel, who had just scread for help, watched this scene not with admiration but with horror.
Not that he found the girl unattractive.
On the contrary, it was precisely because he couldn’t help but marvel at her beauty that he felt so terrified.
The more beautiful a woman was, the more tragic her fate tended to be at the hands of such ruthless bandits. And Gel had hoped soone could save him and the lady he was with, but what arrived was a seemingly delicate girl. Hadn’t he inadvertently dood the girl?
"Quick, run...!"
Without thinking, Gel shouted.
"Bang!"
Accompanied by a thud, Gel, who had shouted towards the girl, was kicked away again.
Motte withdrew his foot, not sparing Gel a glance, his eyes, like those of the surrounding bandits, seemingly only able to see the delicate and beautiful girl.
At that mont, Motte approached her with a sowhat lewd smile.
"Today is truly my lucky day. Not only have I encountered such prized catches consecutively, which are rare on normal days, but now such a great gift has been personally delivered to my doorstep. Although I have never believed in gods, today, just this once, I ought to sincerely praise the divine being who bestowed this match upon ."
Motte laughed heartily as he unabashedly scanned the girl’s body and spoke.
"Co down, little sister, and let the person in the carriage behind you co out too!"
With Motte’s words, the surrounding bandits also burst into unrestrained laughter.
"Co down—co down—co down—"
They chanted in unison, apparently unable to wait for what they were about to do next.
A crude, vulgar, vile, and lewd atmosphere suddenly perated the main road, making it feel as if one were undergoing judgnt, encountering an evil ritual, and about to witness hell.
The girl was so frightened by this scene and the atmosphere that she held the golden sword, unsure of what to do.
Until...
"Let’s go down, Liz."
A quiet voice ca from inside the carriage.
The voice was not loud; it was even quite soft.
Yet, just that soft voice miraculously overpowered the boisterous, vile shouting in the scene, suppressing the evil atmosphere that filled the area.
The girl, addressed as Liz, responded as if she had found her backbone.
"Understood, master."
After speaking, Liz was the first to jump down from the driver’s seat and stood by the side of the carriage.
Then, the carriage door slowly opened, revealing a young man stepping out.
"Oh?" Motte’s attention was imdiately captured by this scene. He squinted at the young man erging from the carriage and said, "Is this another foolish young master from so noble family?"
It was no wonder Motte thought so.
The young man who ca out of the carriage was dressed not exceedingly lavishly, but his attire was much cleaner and neater than that of common folks. He wore a green erald pendant around his neck and a valuable ring on his hand, one hand adorned with a black and red fingerless glove. On his waist hung an amulet embroidered with a dragon’s wings, all of which highlighted his distinguished status.
"Are those all magic artifacts?"
Motte, a bandit specialized in robbery, had a keen eye for valuables, not as good as an expert but still much higher than the average untrained person. Hence, he severely suspected that the young man’s accessories might be expensive magic artifacts.
This made Motte more cautious.
Carrying magic artifacts ant that the other party might possess the strength to resist them.
Although the other party was unard, with neither a sword nor a magic wand, and did not look like a swordsman or a magician—even seeming inconspicuous—it didn’t matter. If those magic artifacts were combat-ready, they might pose a threat to his group.
On closer inspection, the girl next to him, who could barely suppress the desire welling up inside, was holding a sword that clearly was not ordinary.
This combination of a man and a woman was altogether too peculiar.
"Hey!"
Motte, maintaining his vigilance, shouted to the young man who ca down from the carriage.
"Take off all that stuff you have on you!"
Motte still decided to play it safe and deal with the threat first.
Surrounded by bandits, they sowhat regained their senses under Motte’s shouts. Reluctantly, they shifted their gaze from Liz, so raising their weapons, others their bows, aiming at the young man.
"Master."
Seeing this, Liz, without a second thought, stepped in front of the young man.
But the young man gripped her shoulder, stopping her.
"Are you bandits?" The young man looked around before turning to Motte and asked, "Are you the leader of these bandits?"
"So what?" Motte grinned and said, "Is there a problem?"
"No." The young man shook his head, his deanor breezy and unhurried as he said, "We have just entered this territory and have many questions to ask."
"You look like you’ve been here for quite so ti, haven’t you?"
"Just arrived and I encounter a local serpent like you. Seems this place is as chaotic as the rumors suggest."
The young man’s calm words irritated Motte.
"Hey, do you realize what situation this is?" Motte, holding a steel sword, glared at the young man and spoke fiercely, "I’m not here to guide a foolish young master like you."
"If you know what’s good for you, hand over all your belongings now, including those ornants, and the sword of that beautiful lady over there."
"If you cooperate nicely, once the great sir here gets a satisfactory ransom from your elders, maybe you’ll be spared your lives."
As he spoke, Motte couldn’t help but glance at Liz again.
The surrounding bandits did the sa, exchanging looks and emitting so indecent laughter.
Clearly, surviving was possible, but the type of treatnt they’d receive beyond that was implicitly understood.
Anyway, Liz definitely wouldn’t leave unhard, a sentint palpable even without the bandits articulating it.
Instantly, the young man fell silent, his gaze growing colder.
"You..."
Seeing this, Motte was about to curse out loud but was interrupted by the young man’s words.
"It seems, talking too much with trash like you is pointless." The young man said indifferently, "Fine, we’ll find another guide. It’s not like there aren’t any others around."
The bandits hadn’t yet grasped the young man’s implication when Liz, the beautiful girl, understood it first.
"Master, I..."
Liz seed poised to act, but the young man simply shook his head.
"It’s fine, it will be over soon."
As he spoke, a chill suddenly swept over all the bandits.
"Attack!"
Motte’s pupils dilated as he scread out loud.
"Don’t hold back! All of you, attack together!"
Following this command, the bandits displayed excellent mobilization, so brandishing weapons and charging forward, while others readied their bows, aiming arrows in the young man’s direction.
The young man now faced irrational violence, surrounded by a group of vulgar n attacking in unison.
Despite this, the young man remained utterly unfazed.
"[Binding of All Races]."
The next second, the young man chanted a spell.
"————!"
In an instant, all the bandits charging at the young man and those with drawn bows stopped.
As if bound by invisible ropes, each one was immobilized, eyes wide with terror, unable to move a muscle.
"This..."
Gel, struggling to rise, was stunned by the scene.
"You are a magician...!?"
Motte, the only one not bound by the spell, finally changed his expression.
The young man did not respond, rely fixing his gaze on Motte, causing the chill Motte felt earlier to resurface.
"You... bastard...!"
Seeing all his n bound by an unknown spell in an instant, Motte, without a second thought, turned and ran.
"[Thunder Strike]."
The young man’s indifferent chanting echoed once more.
Imdiately, a flash of blinding lightning burst forth, chasing after Motte.
"Pfft!"
The lightning penetrated Motte’s body, entering through his back and erging from his chest.
"Uh... Ahhh...!"
Motte let out a scream, falling to the ground. Not long after, he was reduced to a corpse.
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