Slaughter

Porter had arranged it this way for two reasons.

First, maintaining abundant physical strength and a stable condition was the foundation for responding to sudden combat at any time. Simple eating and resting could also, to some extent, soothe the tense emotions of the squad members.

Second, if unease and panic were allowed to spread continuously while on the move, it would be easier for the group to fall into chaos when encountering danger. It was better to pause here for a moment and let everyone settle their minds.

After all, if danger truly were to descend, it wouldn't be because of this brief moment. Facing it with a calm and orderly posture was far more secure than rushing in a state of anxiety.

The group did not light any fires. They all silently gnawed on hard, dried meat. The originally tense atmosphere gradually loosened under the monotonous chewing and the slight warmth and comfort brought by the food.

Matthew watched this and nodded inwardly, feeling a bit more admiration for Porter’s worldly experience.

'To be able to steady people's hearts in such a place using the most ordinary methods... he certainly has skill.'

He took the dried meat and bread handed to him by Aidan. While eating slowly, he listened to Sierra and Aidan chat. His expression was relaxed, but the "Nurturing Mode" of Eagle Eye Gaze within his body never stopped. His five senses were like blooming flowers, capturing the slightest noises around him.

After all, relying entirely on the restless adventurers for sentry duty was ultimately not secure enough.

He couldn't help but think that if his Spirit were a bit stronger, he could spread it outward like ripples, forming an invisible spiritual circle. Then, every movement within that circle—even the slightest breath, the bending of a blade of grass, or the crawling of an insect beneath the soil—would be presented clearly in his perception, just as if he were looking inside himself.

That would be true security, far beyond this physical level of vigilance.

But that was a matter for the future. For now, he could only rely on this body and this set of combat techniques.

Just as he was eating, his hearing was already in a state of subtle sensitivity due to the continuous operation of the combat technique. It was as if even the sound of the wind and the friction of the grass had been magnified several times.

His ears twitched slightly.

In the distance, an unusual sound suddenly drifted into his ears. It was extremely faint, like a few pebbles being kicked quickly through the grass, or like hooves tapping hurriedly on soft mud.

The sound was short and sharp, vanishing into the wind in a flash. If his hearing hadn't been augmented by the combat technique, he would have almost dismissed it as the spring wind blowing through the waves of grass.

'It’s not the wind, nor a beast... This rhythm... it's hoofbeats, and more than one rider.'

He judged that the distance was roughly over a hundred paces away, but within two hundred paces.

After several months of continuous use and practical testing, he had already figured out the limits of Eagle Eye Gaze. For such a faint and brief sound, the source should be between one hundred and two hundred meters away.

If it were within a hundred meters, he would have captured more distinct hoofbeats; if it exceeded two hundred meters, he would be almost unable to detect it in his current state.

While Sierra was still talking about her adventuring experiences, Matthew naturally swallowed the last bite of food and patted his hands as he stood up.

“I’m full. I’ll stretch my limbs a bit.”

He spoke casually, as if he really just wanted to stretch after sitting for a long time. He brushed the grass clippings off his clothes and walked toward Porter.

Porter was checking the straps of a saddle. Seeing him approach, he looked up with an inquiring gaze.

Matthew leaned in close, his voice very low but every word clear: “Lord Porter, there’s movement in the distance.”

Porter’s hands didn't stop, but his eyes locked onto Matthew’s face.

“Over a hundred meters away,” Matthew continued, his gaze shifting slightly toward the source of the sound. “There are many horse bandits out there.”

Hearing this, Porter’s eyes suddenly narrowed. Seeing Matthew’s solemn expression, he didn't ask "how did you hear it," nor did he show a hint of doubt. He simply nodded gravely.

“Understood.”

He then stood up. His voice wasn't loud, but it was enough for everyone to hear: “Everyone, pack your gear. We’re leaving immediately!”

After speaking, he gave Matthew a look and then quickly walked over to Young Master Regg, his lips moving rapidly.

Regg’s expression shifted several times. A trace of surprise flashed in his eyes as he looked at Matthew, and then he nodded heavily, saying something in return.

Porter nodded repeatedly and then returned to Matthew’s side, whispering, “We’ll go ahead to scout. If the situation is wrong, we retreat immediately. With Young Master Regg here, it’s much safer.”

“Alright.”

Matthew nodded slightly, but a hidden sense of surprise flickered in the depths of his eyes.

He was surprised by Porter’s hesitation-free trust—after all, he had only given a verbal warning, yet the other man had skipped even the most basic verification steps. He was also re-evaluating Regg’s identity.

'It seems the status of this Eldest Young Master of the Fiery Lion family is truly high. Even a Silver Rank would be wary of whatever is out there, yet it would be "much safer" near Regg.'

Without another word, the two of them set off.

Porter lightly squeezed his horse's flanks, leading the way toward the source of the sound. Matthew followed closely behind. The two fast horses carved two swift trails across the early spring grassland.

In the camp, the others had heard Porter’s shout and then saw the two of them suddenly leave the group at high speed. They immediately realized the situation had changed.

The adventurers, who had been leisurely packing, changed their expressions. They no longer cared about being careful, hurriedly stowing their food and water, tightening saddles, and jumping onto their horses.

The entire team transitioned from a relaxed state to an emergency march within a few breaths, retreating rapidly in the opposite direction from Matthew and Porter, leaving only kicked-up grass and the sound of urgent hoofbeats fading in the wind.

...

...

The wind whistled past his ears.

Less than fifty meters from the camp, the surroundings suddenly became quiet. There was only the dull thud of hooves striking the grass and the faint, distant sound of chaotic hoofbeats like rolling thunder.

Matthew’s heartbeat involuntarily quickened slightly, but his hand holding the reins remained steady. From the corner of his eye, he saw Porter. The Silver Rank powerhouse’s face was as calm as water, his gaze scanning the rolling grassy hills ahead like a hawk.

The two of them rode up a low earthen slope and dismounted.

Their vision suddenly opened up.

Directly ahead, about a hundred meters away, a cruel hunt was taking place.

About twenty or so disheveled horse bandits, like hyenas that had caught the scent of blood, had a merchant caravan of only three carriages pinned down in the center.

The caravan’s guards had clearly been mostly slaughtered. Only a few scattered individuals were still futilely holding up shields and weapons, making a final stand with their backs to the carriages.

A coachman lay slumped by the shafts of a carriage, his life or death unknown. The cries of women and children drifted intermittently through the wind, mingled with the horse bandits' crude shouts and sinister laughs.