Chapter 295: One Strike of the Sword

The outside world, particularly those who bore ill will toward Ronin, remained ignorant of his ascension to the Gold rank, yet they were well aware of his status as a Silver Knight.

Under such circumstances, even if an assassination were to be orchestrated against him, one would expect the deployment of at least several Silver Knights, if not a Gold Knight.

The mercenary group before him was clearly a local outfit, incapable of possessing any extraordinary strength.

Thus, Ronin concluded with absolute certainty that the person they claimed should not have been sheltered was by no means himself.

"You need not look at me with such hostility; I am not the one they seek to kill."

Ronin stepped forward with an air of complete nonchalance.

Tom and David flanked Ronin on either side; though they knew their lord had no fear of such a gathering, the pressure weighing upon them was nonetheless substantial.

Bauer discerned Ronin’s extraordinary bearing at a single glance, noting also the two knights beside him, whose armor and shields were clearly of no inferior quality.

"Who are you?"

Ronin did not deign to answer, his gaze shifting instead to a young woman and a small child protected in the center by White, Philip, and the others.

He raised his finger, pointing directly at the pair. "If I am not mistaken, your targets must be this mother and son, correct?"

Bauer made no reply, his countenance darkening ominously.

Yet everyone else present was struck with astonishment by Ronin's words.

Those within the caravan were well aware that Pick was the sole son of Baron Hammett, and Rice was the lady destined to soon become his lawful wife.

For someone to actually harbor designs against them—was this not an outright provocation of the Baron's majesty?

Amidst the crowd, Lady Rice's face turned instantly ashen; she had known matters would not proceed as smoothly as hoped.

Her son, Pick, also shed tears of anxiety, clutching her hand with a desperate grip.

"Bauer, she is the woman of Baron Hammett, and that is his son! Do you truly dare to slay them?"

Philip attempted to utilize Hammett's name to exert pressure on the foe. "Lord Hammett possesses Bronze-level strength. Though you are a High Knight who has led squads to slaughter packs of wolves, if you offend the Baron, neither you nor your mercenary group will be able to endure his wrath!"

"Silence!"

Bauer barked coldly, his resonant voice infused with battle qi causing Philip to tremble; Philip was merely a Low Knight, only slightly stronger than an ordinary man, and before the figure in front of him, he was no different from a mere child.

Bauer’s gaze remained fixed entirely upon Ronin, unable to gauge the true depth of this man's capability.

Ronin simply offered the man a choice. "I have no desire to meddle in your affairs. I shall take my attendants and depart from this place now, and we shall act as though I never encountered tonight's events. What say you?"

This retreat of his, however, only served to make Bauer perceive it as a sign of weakness.

"Heh..."

He let out a cold laugh as he drew his longsword, an aura of killing intent spreading abroad. "I have already said that no one shall leave this place alive tonight!"

Ronin sighed, reaching out to accept Tom's longsword. "I originally intended to mind my own business and remain aloof, yet my forbearance has only brought forth your relentless pressure. Since it has come to this, I suppose I must properly settle the account with you for destroying my property."

This account naturally referred to the ruined magical beast pelts, but to Bauer's ears, it sounded entirely baffling.

"Die!"

Battle qi flooded Bauer's longsword as he charged forward with extreme velocity. In his eyes, how powerful could a mere youth possibly be?

Employing his battle qi was already a sign of high regard for his opponent.

"Careful, he is a High Knight!"

Philip hurriedly cried out at the top of his lungs; now that they knew the matter had nothing to do with Ronin, they could only pin their hopes on this young man who appeared far from simple.

"Too weak!"

Ronin pressed his sword forward, his entire being erupting with a breathtaking aura the very instant he raised his blade, forming a stark and vivid contrast to his previously gentle demeanor.

In that fleeting moment, Bauer felt as though he were being targeted by a ferocious magical beast, an extreme unease gripping his entire body, while the sword Ronin pressed down bore a battle qi so heavy it seemed like a mountain, suffocating him entirely.

He wished to evade, wished to beg for mercy, but it was already too late.

"Boom!"

The two swords clashed, and the battle qi collided; Ronin directly shattered the opponent's blade, and carrying the residual force, he severed the man's armor and shoulder, his battle qi blasting into the foe's body and destroying his heart.

Whoosh—

The rushing wind born from the collision blew back the hood upon Ronin's head, revealing his silver-white hair, which shone with singular distinction beneath the illumination of the moonlight and the bonfire.

"You..."

Bauer’s pupils contracted as a certain figure flashed across his mind, but in the next second, his vision darkened rapidly, and he collapsed heavily to the ground with a thud.

The others, whether it was White, Philip, or the members of the Wolf-Slayer Mercenary Group, did not notice the color of Ronin's hair; instead, they stood utterly dumbfounded by Ronin's single strike.

A High Knight—a ruthless figure who had slaughtered packs of jungle wolves—had been killed by a single strike just like that?

Ronin handed the longsword back to Tom. "The rest is for the two of you to handle; consider it training."

"Yes, my Lord!"

Tom accepted the longsword and, alongside David, charged toward the members of the mercenary group.

This band of men had already been frightened out of their wits by Ronin; they had no intention of continuing the fight, and facing the lunging Tom and David, they could only fight a retreating battle as they fled.

At this moment, Philip and White finally snapped back to reality. "Brothers, charge! Kill these sons of bitches!"

For a time, countless cries of battle and slaughter echoed through the forest.

The ordinary folk who did not join the fray kept their eyes entirely fixed upon Ronin.

A High Knight, slain so effortlessly—just how powerful must this young man be?

"Hey, look at his hair."

Someone noticed the color of Ronin's hair; silver hair was not entirely unique to the Dark Mountain Family, but within the Dark Mountain Domain, it easily brought the family to mind.

"Are you Lord Ronin of Dark Mountain Castle?"

"The Viscount of the North Dark Mountain Domain?"

Though some were asking questions, they had already dropped to one knee, calling out Ronin's name and expressing their gratitude.

Evidently, however, their information was somewhat outdated, as they were unaware that Ronin was now an Earl.

"Everyone may rise. Look after the horses and supplies, and gather the corpses of your companions."

Ronin gave a few brief instructions, intending to return to his tent to rest.

"My Lord!"

Rice called out to stop Ronin, her voice carrying a hint of panic mingled with timidity.

"Is there something?" Ronin inquired.

Rice pulled her son along as she offered a polite curtsy to Ronin. "Thank you for saving our lives, my Lord. I am Rice Norton, the wife of Hammett."

Rice Norton—by the sound of it, she too was a descendant of nobility.

"How is it that I heard you were Hammett's..."

He glanced at Pick beside her, refraining from uttering the word 'mistress.'

Yet in this world, a mistress was by no means an unmentionable or disgraceful term.

"Yes, I was previously Hammett's mistress; many are aware of this."

Les said, “But recently, Hamet’s wife and son died in a maritime accident; he planned to marry me, and that’s how he fetched my son and me from Willie Manor.”

“Such a thing happened?”

Ronin exclaimed, “Died in a maritime accident? Did they encounter pirates?”

He was about to cross the Screaming Sea—he needed to know the details.

Les shook her head. “I’m not entirely sure. Hamet only mentioned it briefly in his letter—it seemed the ship caught fire and sank.”

Ronin had never sailed on a ship in this world, but he imagined the hull was still made of wood; a fire at sea would indeed be fatal.

“You sought me out for something else, didn’t you?”

The sudden appearance, the self-introduction, the tale—it all suggested another request.

Realizing his insight had pierced her veil, Les immediately pulled Pick to his knees before Ronin. “My lord, I don’t know if there will be another attack tomorrow, so I beg you to accompany us to Thorn Valley.”

She bowed her head. “I know this is exceedingly bold, but I have no other choice. Hamet has just taken over the domain and is overwhelmed with duties—he has neither time nor men to fetch me.”

She paused, then continued, “I cannot bear for my son to die in this whirlpool without ever having known a single day of comfort.”

Ronin looked down at the mother and child kneeling before him, meeting the boy’s clear, pleading gaze.

His status was not ordinary; accompanying Les and Pick to Thorn Domain would aid Pick’s formal recognition.

Yet faced with a mother’s plea and a child’s innocent eyes, Ronin chose to agree.

After all, Thorn Valley lay along his own route—it was no detour.

And Les and Pick weren’t going to seize the inheritance; escorting them posed no harm.

“Good,” he said. “I have a favor to ask of Baron Hamet myself. I’ll accompany you to Thorn Valley tomorrow.”

Relief flooded Les’s face. She bowed repeatedly, thanking him profusely—she had never expected him to agree.

Caravans operated on profit, let alone nobles—she had nothing to offer in return.

“My lord!”

At that moment, White sprinted back. “Your two attendants are fighting a mid-rank knight! I feared for your safety and came to warn you.”

“A mid-rank knight?”

Ronin frowned and immediately strode forward.

Tom and David were both junior knights—they’d be hard-pressed against a mid-rank.

Ronin had no intention of losing them to an accident during their training.