Valentine

Slightly behind and to Nathan's left stood the black-haired middle-aged man, the Beast Whisperer Valentine.

His face was still pale, and cold sweat he had not yet wiped away clung to his temples.

His gaze, as sinister as a viper's tongue, swept back and forth across the defensive circle before finally locking onto Matthew with unabashed malice and scrutiny.

Even though Matthew stood at the very back of the crowd, the sparse formation and the exceptionally eye-catching White bow in his hand left him with nowhere to hide.

At this moment, Matthew's gaze was also scanning the horse bandits opposite them. From the positioning of the three, it was clear that Nathan, the yellow-haired youth, and this middle-aged man were the main combatants of the bandit group. When his eyes fell on the yellow-haired youth, a vague sense of familiarity suddenly washed over him.

‘The silhouette of this yellow-haired youth actually bears a slight resemblance to Brody.’

Matthew immediately shook his head inwardly, suppressing the inexplicable doubt: ‘It is probably just a coincidence. They both have yellow hair and somewhat similar temperaments, that's all.’

Just then, a bone-chilling, malicious glare stabbed toward him—coming precisely from Valentine's direction.

He did not know why the other party was doing this, but feeling that cold gaze pinned to him like a shadow, his heart sank, sensing trouble.

Upon spotting his target, Valentine leaned in close to Nathan and whispered a few words.

Hearing this, Nathan's gaze instantly shot toward Matthew's position like a hawk. When he clearly saw that still-youthful face, an irrepressible trace of shock flashed through his eyes:

‘He's actually this young?’

Just then, Porter cast aside his usual flattering attitude toward Regg, stepping forward half a pace as he spoke to Nathan in a calm, cold voice:

“This is the caravan of the Horn Chamber of Commerce. I am Vice President Porter.”

“What is the meaning of the person beside you controlling an eagle to spy on us from high above just now?”

Hearing this, Matthew was slightly surprised. He had not expected Porter to take such a strong stance.

But on second thought, it made sense. They were already at a life-or-death juncture. Nathan's brutal nature was known to all; there was no way he would show mercy just because they were submissive. Moreover, Matthew had already shot down the eagle that served as their “eyes.”

Striking a firm posture now could both boost their own morale and ensure they did not back down in momentum.

It would also better project confidence.

Hearing Porter's cold, hard questioning, the members of the caravan froze for a moment. Then, their gazes sharpened in unison. They unconsciously tensed their bodies, and their grips on their weapons tightened slightly.

The faint panic in the air was quietly suppressed by a silent, heavy resolve.

On the horse bandits' side, a minor commotion broke out.

Several bandits exchanged glances, the astonishment on their faces nearly impossible to hide.

Having roamed the grasslands for years, they had plundered countless caravans and had naturally heard of the Horn Chamber of Commerce—a major, deeply rooted guild that was well-known in the county seat.

And the man before them was actually the vice president of the Horn Chamber of Commerce, which meant... he was highly likely a Silver Rank powerhouse!

Hearing this, Nathan's gaze fell upon the faintly silver-glowing Class holder badge on Porter's chest. An enigmatic smile tugged at his lips, and his tone actually carried a hint of deliberate politeness:

“So it is Vice President Porter of the Horn Chamber of Commerce. My apologies for the disrespect.”

Hearing Nathan's polite words, several of the temporarily recruited adventurers in the group could not help but relax slightly.

They traveled outdoors year-round and knew well that when encountering bandits in the wilderness, the more fiercely and directly the other party acted, the easier they usually were to deal with.

Yet now, a notoriously brutal horse bandit leader like Nathan was uncharacteristically showing “politeness.”

This caused a sliver of hope to rise in their hearts:

Perhaps the reputation of the Horn Chamber of Commerce and Vice President Porter's status truly gave the enemy pause.

However, seeing this, Matthew's heart suddenly clenched. He had seen with his own eyes from the dirt mound how the West Wasteland Horse Bandits had slaughtered that other caravan. It was absolutely not a robbery for wealth, but a cruel and playful massacre.

As the leader, Nathan had not only failed to stop them but had instead condoned his subordinates' violence, which spoke volumes about his brutal nature.

How could such a desperate outlaw suddenly “be reasonable” just because of a chamber of commerce's name?

Matthew's gaze quickly swept across the bandit group opposite them. Although the bandits behind Nathan remained silent, their eyes betrayed unconcealed bloodlust and excitement. Many had already quietly gripped their weapons, leaning forward slightly as if waiting for a signal to strike.

‘Not good! This is a guise before they strike!’

“Everyone, watch out!”

Alarm bells rang in Matthew's mind. As he shouted sharply, he drew the White Fang Bow—which already had an arrow nocked—to its limit.

Before his voice could even fade, the arrow flew!

The arrow was as fast as lightning, carrying a sharp, air-piercing whistle as it shot straight for Nathan's face!

To his surprise, Nathan seemed to have anticipated this. The instant the arrow neared him, the scimitar in his hand sprang from his shoulder like a bolt of black lightning, blocking precisely in front of him.

“Clang—!”

The ear-piercing screech of clashing metal echoed across the grassland.

The arrow was deflected by the blade, sending sparks flying.

However, the force of Matthew's shot far exceeded Nathan's expectations. The blade actually trembled slightly from the impact, and a distinct numbness traveled up the arm holding the weapon.

A flash of surprise crossed Nathan's eyes, which then dissolved into a deeper, colder malice. He slowly raised his eyes, his gaze piercing through the caravan circle to lock firmly onto the youth standing with the bow at the rear.

A sneer, mixing realization and mockery, appeared on his face. He spoke slowly, his voice not loud but clearly cutting through the air:

“No wonder Valentine's eagle was shot down... It really was you.”

“Indeed.”

Hearing this, Matthew sighed inwardly.

It was a pity that this arrow had not taken Nathan's life.

His choice to shoot at Nathan instead of the other horse bandits was based on a calm assessment of the battlefield.

With the power of the White Fang Bow and his own archery skills, aiming at an ordinary horse bandit would have had a ninety percent chance of killing them in one blow, reducing the enemy's numbers.

However, such a result would have been of limited help to the overall situation of the caravan.

Even if he killed a few horse bandits, as long as Nathan, their Silver Rank leader, remained, the enemy's will to fight and command structure would not collapse, and the threat to the caravan would not diminish in the slightest.

Conversely, if he could heavily wound or even kill Nathan with a single arrow, the horse bandits' morale would inevitably shatter, plunging them into chaos.

Then, the members of the caravan could seize the opportunity to counterattack, perhaps turning the tide of the crisis and even snatching victory from defeat.

Unfortunately, although the shot was precise and fierce, Nathan had relied on his rich combat experience and Silver Rank perception to tilt his body at the critical moment, dodging the vital strike.

In the end, things had not gone as hoped.

All of this had unfolded in a matter of seconds.

...

...