Battle

At the same time, the wind blew slightly colder across the desolate grassland.

At the front of the caravan.

When Porter saw Matthew shoot at Nathan and the latter block it with his blade, a trace of embarrassment and shame couldn't help but flash across his face.

When he had just announced his title as the Vice President of the Horn Chamber of Commerce, Nathan's slightly “polite” response had actually made him believe the other party was intimidated by his status.

Thinking back now, he had been far too preoccupied with this vice president title, allowing himself to be temporarily deceived by the other party.

Despite traveling the wilderness for years, he had still unconsciously used the chamber's reputation as a protective talisman, forgetting that on this grassland where savage laws ruled, what truly made others bow was never a title, but the strength in one's hands.

Fortunately, Matthew had reacted quickly and broken the impasse with a single arrow. Otherwise, if his momentary misjudgment had caused the entire group to let down their guard and suffer a surprise attack, the consequences would have been unimaginable.

Out of the corner of his eye, he quickly scanned the people in the caravan, only to see that most still had lingering expressions of relief from Nathan's “politeness.” Clearly, they had not noticed his momentary misjudgment and change in expression.

Porter's heart eased slightly—thankfully, he hadn't shown weakness in front of everyone.

However, this relief lasted only a brief moment.

Immediately after, a distinct wave of anger surged from the bottom of his heart—this anger was not directed at Nathan's cunning and insidiousness, but entirely at himself.

At this critical moment when life and death hung in the balance, he had actually allowed himself a moment of laxity and misjudgment because of the empty title of “vice president.” For an experienced Silver Rank Class holder like him, a guard leader who led caravans year-round, this was simply an unforgivable mistake.

However, as his thoughts reached this point, his gaze sharpened a bit more. If they could successfully make it out of this grassland alive, then by relying on his guarding merits and performance in this crisis, the actual position of vice president would likely be well within his grasp.

When that time came, the empty title would truly become a part of his strength.

At this moment, on the wilderness of early spring, the wind swept through the knee-high withered grass, making a rustling low sound like countless soft sighs.

The distant horizon shimmered slightly under the afternoon sun. The space between heaven and earth was vast and empty, yet it was filled with a hair-trigger killing intent.

Porter gripped the hilt of the sword at his waist. His gaze swept over the horse bandits opposite them, who had already spread out their formation and were itching to move. No distractions remained in his heart.

“Protect Master Regg!”

Porter's command was short and powerful, like a stone thrown into a lake, instantly shattering the brief, dead silence.

Before his voice could even fade, Nathan on the opposite side raised his scimitar with a sinister grin.

“Kill them! Leave no one alive!”

The horse bandits behind him erupted into bloodthirsty roars. Like a pack of wolves smelling blood, they whipped their horses and charged toward the caravan circle, kicking up billowing clouds of dust.

The ground trembled slightly under the trampling of the horses' hooves.

Inside the defensive circle, the adventurers' faces turned pale, but their survival instincts drove them to grip their shields and weapons tightly, backing up against the crude defensive line formed by carriages and wooden crates.

Listening to Porter's command, Matthew couldn't help but feel a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

Although he didn't know the other party very well, he was clear that his instructor's old friend was absolutely not some fool who would sacrifice his life for others.

This decisive command at the moment was less about saving people and more about expressing his loyalty to Regg in the midst of a crisis.

This deepened his understanding of the word “interest” even further.

However, reality did not give Matthew time to be distracted.

The pressure on the defensive line came faster than expected.

The barrier in front, hastily piled up with wooden crates and miscellaneous items, was torn open with a first gap almost in the blink of an eye.

Several horse bandits charged on their horses, their scimitars and maces smashing down fiercely. The already fragile wooden crates shattered on impact, sending splinters flying everywhere.

Several adventurers and guards who had been huddled behind the barrier were forced into the open, hastily meeting the enemy.

The tiny caravan circle was falling into an absolute disadvantage.

At the gap, including the young Aidan, there were barely five people holding the front line, yet they had to face the pounce of over fifteen fierce horse bandits.

Even though the opponents' equipment was mediocre and they had no Class holders, it still meant that on average, each person had to deal with three to four enemies at the same time.

Blades clashed as shouts and screams instantly mixed into a chaotic mess. The massive disparity in numbers and experience made the defensive line teeter on the brink of collapse.

Matthew's gaze quickly swept over the chaotic battlefield ahead. With a solemn expression, the White Fang Bow in his hand turned almost into a phantom, the bowstring vibrating rapidly against his fingertips, letting out continuous, sharp hums.

Arrows pierced the air, fast as lightning, carrying sharp whistles as they shot straight toward the fiercest horse bandits at the gap.

“Swoosh! Swoosh!”

The first arrow precisely pierced the throat of a horse bandit who was raising a mace, grinning as he swung it toward Aidan's flank. The bandit's grin instantly froze, and his body stiffened as he fell backward.

The second arrow followed closely behind, striking the eye of another bandit who was hacking wildly with a scimitar, forcing Reese to retreat repeatedly.

The arrowhead exited from the back of his head, spraying a mist of blood. The man fell to the ground without even letting out a groan.

Two consecutive arrows!

They instantly relieved the most lethal pressure at the gap, causing the movements of the remaining charging horse bandits to suddenly freeze.

They instantly remembered the archer in the enemy caravan—a figure who posed an extremely strong threat even to their boss!

The horse bandits were no heroes. The reason they chose to assault the adventurers' defensive line—which had the weakest defense and the most ordinary equipment—while deliberately avoiding the front line where Porter was, as well as the guards beside the young master, was precisely because they knew those areas held truly tough nuts to crack and were unwilling to easily touch them.

Their originally fierce charging momentum couldn't help but slow down. Many instinctively pulled on their reins or used horses and debris to cover themselves, causing a temporary chaos in their offensive.

They were merely a band of outlaws seeking wealth; they had no desire to throw their lives away for a raid.

Therefore, when Matthew displayed archery skills capable of threatening someone of Nathan's level, these originally aggressive horse bandits naturally hesitated and pulled back instinctively, subconsciously assessing the risks and unwilling to stick their necks out.

Everyone took in the entire scene. Their heartstrings, which had been stretched so tight they were on the verge of snapping, finally found a brief moment to breathe.

At the gap, Aidan, whose pressure had suddenly lessened, seized the opportunity to parry a scimitar and took a staggering step back. He turned his head to look at Matthew, who stood holding his bow in the rear. Real fear and gratitude welled up in his eyes, and he blurted out:

“Big Brother Matthew!”

Though his voice was fragmented due to his heavy breathing, the reliance and relief in it were clearly audible.

Hearing this, Matthew nodded at him.

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