Reynard strode forward. Lance followed, crossbow in hand. The old rcenary, wielding a warhamr and shield, brought up the rear, tasked with protecting Lance and guarding against any threats.
As expected, the commotion outside had disturbed those inside. A squad leader in a breastplate rushed out with two guards, running straight into them.
Lance didn’t hesitate, raising his crossbow and firing an arrow. Unlike Dismas’s frightening accuracy, even though they were only ten ters apart, Lance still missed.
He had aid for the torso, but the arrow struck one guard’s knee.
The problem was, he had been aiming at the *other* guard...
There was no ti for Lance to dwell on it. The guard hit by the arrow collapsed, clutching his leg, his agonizing screams echoing as blood gushed uncontrollably.
Seeing this, the squad leader let out a furious roar—whether from genuine rage or to bolster his courage was unclear—but he charged forward nonetheless.
It seed to be a common understanding to prioritize targeting ranged attackers.
Reynard wasn’t one for flashy moves. As the enemy approached, he simply swung his Great Sword, forcing the squad leader to a halt.
The other guard, witnessing this, let out a strange cry and lunged at Lance. Though he looked clumsy, the gleaming short sword in his hand was not to be underestimated.
However, Lance had no intention of engaging in close combat. He quickly stepped back behind the old rcenary and began reloading his crossbow.
Facing the reckless guard, the old rcenary parried the short sword with his shield. Then, the warhamr, previously hidden, swung out and struck the guard squarely in the chest.
Lance, standing close enough, even heard the distinct CRACK of breaking bones. The next second, the guard reeled backward and fell, his short sword clattering to the ground. His chest was visibly caved in, and as he coughed up blood and bits of flesh, it was clear he was beyond saving.
Lance, in an act of rcy, drew his dagger and delivered a swift end to the guard’s suffering.
He then quickly sacrificed the body, not daring to give the Ancestor any chance to draw nourishnt.
anwhile, Reynard’s fight had also concluded. The squad leader’s leg was severed before Reynard’s longsword pierced his neck.
Reynard also dispatched the guard shot in the knee with a single strike. In this era, severe injuries were practically a death sentence.
As for Divine Arts? Those were luxuries reserved for the wealthy. And Lance certainly wouldn’t waste a precious [Tribute] on an enemy.
Without any hesitation, Lance calmly sacrificed the corpses and then proceeded with their plan.
As they had anticipated, only one squad of guards was stationed inside the farmstead; the rest were servants and other staff.
A maidservant, startled by the sounds, ca out to investigate. The sight that t her eyes terrified her instantly. She scread, turned to flee, and yelled, "Bandits! Bandits are here!"
"Stop her," Lance commanded.
The words had barely left his lips when Reynard charged, hitting her with the flat of his Great Sword and knocking her to the ground.
Lance imdiately rushed over, grabbed her by the collar, and demanded, "Where is the farm owner?"
The maidservant, overco by terror, didn’t seem to hear Lance. She just wept and scread, "Don’t kill !"
Ti was critical, and Lance had none to waste on her hysterics.
He slapped her twice. Let’s see if that snaps you out of it.
"Tell where the farm owner is!"
The pain seed to restore so of her senses, and Lance’s fierce shout, right next to her ear, compelled her instinctive obedience.
"At the end of the corridor... turn left... second room."
"Bring her."
Reynard dragged the maidservant ahead to clear the path, while Lance and the old rcenary followed closely.
However, when they reached the indicated door, they found it locked. It looked more like a storeroom than a regular room. Lance instinctively glanced at the maidservant.
"Truly! He’s really in there!" the maidservant insisted, clearly terrified. "The Master was locked inside by David!"
All three were surprised, but Lance reacted the quickest, pressing, "David? Where is he? Is he here?"
"He’s not here. He’s outside training."
Hearing this, Lance frowned. So that’s why they were told to remove their armor and not bring weapons, and why those three guards ca from *inside*. This is a goddamn trap, ant for that squad leader, and we just walked right into it! Lance had seen all sorts of situations and imdiately played along.
"The son-in-law is trying to usurp the Master!" Lance announced. "We’re rcenaries hired to rescue the farm owner. Quick, get him out!"
Reynard and the others caught on. The old rcenary stepped forward, smashed the lock flat with one blow from his warhamr, then raised his shield and bashed open the door.
Sure enough, they saw a middle-aged man inside.
Although David had imprisoned the farm owner, he hadn’t deprived him of food or drink. The man rely looked haggard but was otherwise unhard.
"We’re here to rescue you," Lance said, motioning for the maidservant to help the man out.
Hearing this, the farm owner grew agitated, on the verge of pouring out his grievances.
But Lance cut him short, urging, "Hurry! David is about to return with his n!"
The farm owner had clearly been tornted during his captivity. Just hearing David’s na startled him, and he hastily complied.
"You must get out of here! I have money! Lots of money!"
The group paid him little heed, focusing on reaching the exit.
It took Lance’s group less than five minutes to fight their way through the farmstead and bring the farm owner out, but the situation ahead had already beco dangerous.
The mont they stepped outside, they were t by a cacophony of shouts and angry roars.
Lance quickly scrambled up the lookout platform where the crossbowman was stationed, joining Dismas.
"What’s the situation?"
"At least ten of them. I’ve taken down a few, but now they’re using wooden doors as shields. These light crossbows can’t penetrate those. If you hadn’t co out when you did, I would’ve had to use my gun."
As he spoke, Dismas noticed the farm owner and his expression changed.
"Things have changed," Lance explained briefly in a low voice, simultaneously peering over the earthen wall to assess the situation outside.
Two door panels, apparently ripped from sowhere, had several crossbow arrows embedded in them. A group of n cowered behind them, wary of arrows from an unknown assailant.
Several bodies lay on the ground, evidently crossbown by their weapons. Among them was a squad leader in a breastplate, an arrow protruding from his head—clearly a victim of Dismas’s first volley.
Dismas’s deadly accuracy had pinned them down, preventing any reckless advance and buying Lance’s group precious ti.
"They’re waiting for reinforcents," Lance observed. "We can’t give them any more ti."
He scanned the enemy; he didn’t know what David looked like but saw no obvious leader among them. He made a quick decision.
"Keep an eye out. Shoot anyone who shows their head," Lance instructed Dismas.
With that, he quickly turned and went down to the farm owner.
"David isn’t out there," Lance said. "I need you to shout to those n. Tell them David has rebelled, and order the guards to lay down their weapons and leave."
He then gestured for the farm owner to climb onto the crossbowman’s platform.
Hearing that David wasn’t present, the farm owner regained so courage and quickly ascended the platform.
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