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Now reading: Chapter 99 - 80: Blood Loss Knight and the Lost Horse from Westminster Bank, a Fantasy novel by Yan Yao.

Olivia’s face still held that pitiful, compassionate expression, as if she were thinking of her sister Sessi’s suffering. Finally, she just said:

"When you get down to it, he’s just another poor soul abandoned by the world."

’Blood Loss Knight... Now that’s a cool na.’

Baron thought to himself before his gaze returned to the Iron Thorn Gang.

The Iron Thorn Gang was led by a man in his thirties, dressed in a crocodile-hide hunting outfit treated with Magic Potions. Strange, sinister patterns were tattooed on his face.

Listening to the coachn’s whispers, he learned these were tattoos only given to those who had been exiled in Gillian.

From the whispers of so other Demon Hunters, Baron deduced this man was Tate Rodney, Vice Gang Leader of the Iron Thorn Gang and a Bronze Beast Demon Hunter.

Tate noticed Baron watching him and sneered, his expression savage.

"Kid, you keep looking over here. Don’t tell you’re trying to pin those two bay horses from dayti on us?"

He added coldly, "Then by all ans, co and get it. Compared to the Nun by your side, my brothers are far more interested in your ass."

He roared with laughter, and the other Demon Hunters joined in.

The coachn and porters wanted to laugh as well, but ultimately, they were facing Demon Hunters. No matter what, they weren’t people commoners like them could afford to provoke, so they just forced awkward twitches at the corners of their mouths.

After dinner, the horses were fed, one by one, with fodder mixed with a little minced at.

The Little Nun thought Baron was finally about to lose his temper, and she anxiously searched his face for a reaction.

But Demon Hunter L said nothing at all. He just gave the night sky a strange look and said, "Let’s get so sleep. We need an early start tomorrow." Then, from sowhere, he produced two thin blankets and covered himself and the Little Nun.

To prevent any drifters from approaching them during the night, he made a symbolic gesture of drawing his shortsword, cleanly chopping a few bundles of firewood, and adding them to the bonfire.

Those few chops made Tate’s gaze flicker, and on the other side of the camp, the long-browed Wandering Knight raised an eyebrow.

「The next morning, long before the sky had even begun to show the faintest light.」

Baron woke the Little Nun, who hadn’t slept well due to the noisy drifters and the Demon Hunters who had deliberately told lewd jokes at the top of their lungs all night, and they set off on horseback.

About an hour later, the faint light of dawn began to filter through the shade of the trees.

The horse-watching coachn, porters, and Demon Hunters slowly stirred, rubbing their throbbing heads.

After staring blankly at the empty, temporary troughs for a mont, they rushed into a tent to inform Vice Gang Leader Tate Rodney:

"Vice Gang Leader! It’s bad! Our horses are gone!!!"

Another Demon Hunter was about to go report as well, but he was knocked to the ground by a furtive drifter. A half-eaten horse leg dropped from the drifter’s arms.

They stared at each other, speechless.

After wiping his snotty nose, the drifter panicked, grabbed the horse leg, and ran for it.

Behind him stread a veritable army of drifters, each clutching the remains of various horses.

They were all fine steeds, now butchered, cooked, and devoured by this crowd of drifters.

The Demon Hunter stared blankly for a long ti. The thought of the Vice Gang Leader, the thought of the responsibility he would have to bear... He beca frantic with rage, kicked over an old woman, caved in an old man’s head with a single punch, and then turned and ran away himself.

...

"Those motherfuckers dared to eat my horses!"

Looking at the empty, temporary stables and the utter ss just outside the camp, Tate roared, his fury practically boiling over.

"It must have been that Hunter with the Nun! Pack your things! Go after them!"

"But... Boss, without any horses... I’m afraid we won’t be able to catch them," soone said.

Tate Rodney slamd his fist into a large tree nearby, knocking it over. He watched as the last drifter turned back to snatch the camp’s crucible, and ground out through clenched teeth:

"This is beyond humiliating!"

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