Chapter 80: 80 Those Who Do Not Know the Times

Chapter 80: 80. Those Who Fail to Recognize the Times

The Bamboo Tribe numbered fewer than four hundred souls, and their everyday defense force amounted to twenty men at the very best.

Among these men, aside from the three professional knights led by Willie, the rest were mere commoners who were guards when they held weapons and peasants when they laid them down; they lacked even formal training, let alone the capacity to withstand professional knights, and were vastly outmatched even by the guards Ronin had brought from Castle Wushan.

This battle, in truth, had already reached its conclusion long ago, the moment Ronin and his men arrived at the outskirts of the Bamboo Tribe without encountering a single obstacle along their way.

Not only did no semblance of resistance form here, but there was not even a soul to slip away and spread the word; the two squads under Juwitt and Sim, whom Ronin had cautiously stationed along those two roads, found themselves entirely without purpose.

When all was said and done, he simply had not anticipated that the proceedings would unfold with such seamless ease.

Faced with Ronin's recruitment, Willie felt a profound stirring in his heart. He had followed his father’s generation into the depths of these mountain woods, bearing the stigma of a rebel remnant; even when purchasing supplies from the outside world, they could only seek out petty merchants, and even then, they had to tread with utmost caution lest their identities be unmasked.

Should the outsiders ever learn of his identity, they would undoubtedly denounce him to the lords of the Wushan Domain, if only for those few paltry coins of bounty.

Once, under the pervasive influence of his elders, Willie's mind had been consumed by the desire to recast the bygone glory of his house, but after enduring the grueling torment of these long years—and particularly the rise of the Black Collar Tribe in recent times—he had grown increasingly desperate to escape this woodland.

Now, the young baron standing before him seemed capable of granting him everything his heart desired.

"Lord Ronin, your proposition stirs me deeply!"

Willie's tone softened slightly, "But as you well know, even if a man desires to tame a magical beast, his very first act must be to defeat it. If you wish for my submission, you ought first to display your own strength."

Ronin stared blankly for a moment; how else was he supposed to display his strength?

The Bamboo Tribe was already completely surrounded by his forces, so what more must he show?

"Knight Willie, have you perhaps failed to grasp your current predicament? The Bamboo Tribe has been encircled by my men, and without the slightest power to resist, you have all become the spoils in my palm; this alone suffices to prove my might—or at the very least, that I am mightier than you."

"No, no, no."

Willie shook his head in haste, "You have merely trapped my people, but you have not trapped me. If I truly desired to break through your lines, you might not necessarily be able to stay my hand."

His voice carried a supreme confidence, "If you wish for me to yield to you, you ought to defeat me in single combat from the front!"

"I admire your courage, Knight Willie."

The corners of Ronin's mouth curved into a faint smile, "But at the same time, I also admire your ignorance."

Upon hearing these words, Willie’s countenance turned cold, "Lord Ronin, mind your manners. I have offered you no offense, yet you defame me; this is hardly a quality a nobleman should possess!"

The quality of a nobleman—was it truly to maintain humility and deference at every waking hour, and to offer polite praise to every soul?

"I have absolutely no interest in a duel with you."

Ronin shook his head, "You now have one minute to consider whether to submit to me, or to be slain."

In such an overwhelming situation, what right did the opposing party possess to negotiate terms with him?

A tense atmosphere spread through the air, and Willie cast a sweeping glance at the men surrounding him; at this very moment, he was entirely hemmed in. For all the confidence in his speech, he held no absolute certainty of success if he truly had to force a breakthrough.

Moreover, he was loath to abandon his status as tribal chief, and he had no desire to humble himself under another's hand without servants to attend to his needs.

What he wanted was to be just like Ronin: to open his eyes each morning to the service of others, to do precisely as he pleased, and to enjoy a freedom beholden to no man's command.

The two knights standing beside Willie were exceedingly anxious; the aura radiating from the opposing group was far too oppressive, and they were merely junior knights who would stand no chance of escape if the talks collapsed.

The single minute elapsed swiftly, and after a succession of fierce conflicts waged within Willie’s soul, he finally relented.

"My Lord, I can offer you my submission."

Willie spoke once more, "But I hope you will permit me to remain the chief of the Bamboo Tribe, to govern these people."

Ronin was momentarily taken aback by this demand, and then, to his own surprise, he began to laugh.

Slowly, he raised his hand, and the intricate magical lines of the Wind Blade spell—already deeply etched into his mind—were swiftly traced within his palm; as the element of wind surged, a hazy, azure blade of wind silently coalesced before him.

"Ronin, you!"

Willie’s expression shifted drastically; he had originally believed that even if these terms were unacceptable, there would still be room for bargaining, but he had never expected the other man to strike without a word.

Ronin did not care to waste any further breath; guided by his mental focus, the blade of wind flew from his hand, slicing toward the man’s throat with the sharp, whistling shriek of immense speed.

"Ha!"

As an intermediate knight, Willie’s entire body erupted with battle aura, and he raised the longsword in his hand, channeling it into a Flame Slash to withstand the onslaught of the Wind Blade.

Yet, whether it was due to the wretched quality of his longsword or the fact that his Flame Slash had not fully coalesced, the wind blade sheared cleanly through the blade of his weapon, leaving a slender line of crimson across his throat.

"You..."

Willie felt his body grow rapidly cold, as though his very soul were being gradually drawn away, and then his entire form collapsed to the earth.

"What right does a defeated man have to demand so many conditions?"

Ronin sneered, " Lacking even this modicum of discernment, there is no need for you to be my subordinate."

In truth, had the man raised some other request—such as asking Ronin for a few gold coins or the like—he would have been quite willing to accommodate him.

After all, bending an intermediate knight to his service was an entirely advantageous prospect for Ronin.

It was a pity that this Willie desired far too much, even harboring the ambition to remain the chief of the Bamboo Tribe; did this not amount to Ronin enfeoffing him with a knightly title and assigning him an estate into the bargain?

Even McCann, who had followed him longest, and Ridal, who had rendered immense service, had not received such titles; what right did a defeated remnant of a chief possess?

Lord Willie... dead just like that?

The two knights who had been standing beside Willie had never anticipated such a turn of events; the strongest warrior of the Bamboo Tribe could not even withstand a single strike from the opponent.

At this moment, the whistling shriek of the wind blade seemed to echo still within their ears, sounding for all the world like the cry of a specter from the underworld.

The peasants who had stood up in preparation to resist alongside Willie collapsed to the ground upon witnessing this, looking as utterly devastated as if they had lost their own parents, stripped entirely of the courage to rebel.

"Those who kneel and surrender shall be spared!" Ronin commanded softly.

Ridal and McCann pointed their longswords toward the heavens, shouting in unison, "Those who kneel and surrender shall be spared!"

After this single display, even the two professional knights under Willie’s command fell to their knees to beg for mercy out of sheer terror; who else would dare to resist?

One by one, they all knelt upon the earth, trembling in fear as they implored the nobleman for clemency.

Fortunately, before the expedition, Ronin had instructed Ridal and McCann to conduct thorough ideological preparation among the guards, which ultimately branded the strict rule against the wanton slaughter of captives into the soldiers' hearts.

Even when confronting those who surrendered, the soldiers were at most a bit rough, but they did not kill a single soul, nor did they commit any acts of mutilation.

Training a discipline-bound force that moved precisely to orders was indeed a necessity.

"David, Tom, take your men and gather every single person of the Bamboo Tribe together."

Ronin emphasized, "Remember to search meticulously; whether man, woman, old, or young, do not leave a single soul behind!"

Many thanks to Gothic Swastika Walking Warrior and Qinghe Sanren for their generous tips, and to Baitu Dangxia, Remaining Traces of Time, Slag of Battle Power Five, Roses Are Hard to Grow, Tyy Maple Leaf, Xuan's Dad, Book Friend 20230405183521956, Iced Coffee Without Milk, Thesis Terminator, and more than ten other gentlemen for their votes~ The recent flu is rather severe, and the author has already caught it, so please mind your personal protection.

(End of Chapter)