Several bandits lay on the ground, struggling desperately, but they simply could not stand up.
Klein walked over and looked down at them.
"Don't move."
His voice was very calm.
The bandits lay flat, not daring to twitch, able only to stare at him with terrified eyes.
Klein turned his head toward the caravan leader.
The middle-aged man was still kneeling on the ground, the blood on his arm already congealed, leaving a dark red stain on his clothes.
He looked up at Klein and Ophelia, his eyes full of terror, gratitude, and the relief of a survivor.
"Th-thank you, my lords..."
His voice trembled, nearly choking on his words.
"If not for you, I... today I would have..."
He could not go on, as tears began to fall.
Klein waved his hand.
"It's over now."
He walked over to the bald man, knelt down, and reached into his coat to search him.
He pulled out a cloth pouch.
Opening it, he found a few silver coins and a bronze medal.
The medal was engraved with words: Western Border Patrol Division, Third Battalion.
Klein looked at the bronze medal, his brow furrowing slightly.
It seemed this fellow hadn't been lying.
Klein pocketed the medal and stood up.
Ophelia walked over and looked at him.
"What now?"
She wasn't worried about the Patrol Division causing trouble; she was merely concerned about the rest of their journey.
However, it was best to deal with the people currently in front of them first.
Klein thought for a moment.
"Let's tie these people up first."
He looked at the caravan leader.
"Do you have any rope?"
The caravan leader nodded hurriedly.
"Yes, yes!"
He struggled to stand, clutching his injured arm, and ran to the carriage to pull out several lengths of hemp rope.
"My lord, is this enough?"
Klein took the rope and walked toward the bandits.
He used his mana to suppress them and then tied them up one by one.
He bound them tightly, securing both hands and feet, and even wound the rope several extra times around their waists.
Ophelia stood to the side, watching him.
"How do you plan to handle them?"
Klein finished tying the last bandit and patted his hands.
"Send them to the nearest town and hand them over to the local magistrate."
He looked at Ophelia.
"What do you think?"
Ophelia remained silent for a moment.
She looked at the bandits on the ground, then at the bronze medal, a flicker of complex emotion passing through her golden eyes.
Ophelia gave a slight nod.
The caravan leader stood shakily to the side, clutching his arm. His face was deathly pale, cold sweat dripping from his forehead, and his gaze toward Klein and Ophelia was filled with awe and gratitude.
"My lords, where... where are we going now?"
His voice still carried the tremors of a brush with death, and he found it difficult even to stand straight.
The skirmish just now had been far too thrilling for him—he had seen many mercenaries and soldiers from the garrison, but he had never seen anyone as powerful as the two standing before him.
Especially that golden-haired Knightess; she had decapitated the bandit leader with a single strike.
That sword had been so fast he couldn't even track its path; he had only seen a golden flash before the leader's head flew off.
Klein raised his hand and pointed ahead, his voice calm.
"Where is the nearest town?"
"Keep going for about two miles, and you'll reach Stonebridge Town."
The caravan leader answered immediately, speaking very quickly for fear of slighting his two saviors.
"There is a magistrate in town, along with guards from the Patrol Division, an inn, and a small chapel for the temple. The town isn't large, but it's quite famous in this area because of an ancient stone bridge, said to be left over from the elven era..."
He was becoming a bit talkative, but Klein did not interrupt him.
Klein turned to look at Ophelia.
"Then let's go."
Ophelia had no objection.
She turned and walked to the carriage, her golden eyes scanning the wagon filled with goods.
The carriage was heavy, its wheels sunk deep into the mud, and the two draft horses were already panting from exhaustion.
She reached out her right hand and grasped the crossbar of the carriage shaft with one hand.
Before the caravan leader could even react, he saw the golden-haired Knightess give a sharp tug with her wrist, and the entire carriage was easily dragged out of the mud pit and into the center of the highway.
The wheels made a heavy rumbling sound against the ground, and before the two draft horses could even exert themselves, the carriage had already been straightened out.
"This... this..."
The caravan leader's eyes widened, his mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an apple.
He knew knights were strong, but this was too exaggerated! That was a carriage full of goods! It had to weigh at least a thousand pounds!
Yet that golden-haired Knightess had not only dragged the carriage with one hand, she didn't even have a trace of strain on her face, as if she were merely picking up a bag of feathers.
"It's fine, they won't die."
Klein smiled and walked over to the bandits who were tied together in a string.
The bandits no longer had any of their previous arrogance.
They were tied securely with hemp rope, hands and feet bound together, tossed behind the carriage like a string of rice dumplings.
Klein knelt down, looking at their terrified faces.
"Behave yourselves, and don't think about running."
His voice was light, but the bandits felt a chill rise up their spines.
Klein raised his right hand and gave his finger a gentle flick.
A faint blue light rippled in the air, and several mana threads as thin as hair extended from his fingertips, winding around the bandits' wrists and ankles like living things.
Those threads were so transparent they were almost invisible, with only a slight shimmer appearing under the right angle of sunlight.
But the moment they wrapped around, the bandits felt a powerful binding force.
One of the bandits didn't believe it and tried to struggle.
He gritted his teeth and twisted his wrists with all his might, but the seemingly fragile threads were incredibly resilient and didn't budge at all.
Instead, his own wrists were squeezed painfully, and bloody welts quickly appeared on his skin.
"Don't bother struggling."
Klein stood up and brushed off non-existent dust from his hands.
"These are binding threads I've woven from mana; they are far tougher than ordinary rope. Even an adult earth drake couldn't break free, let alone ordinary people like you."
His tone was calm, as if he were discussing an insignificant trifle.
But the caravan leader's heart skipped a beat as he listened.
An earth drake? That was a legendary magical beast! Adult earth drakes possessed immense strength and were said to be able to collapse city walls with a single charge!
This young mage's casual mana-woven binding threads could actually trap an earth drake?
The caravan leader's gaze toward Klein became even more reverent.
"Let's go."
Klein turned and walked toward his horse.
The caravan leader hurriedly gathered his men and drove the carriage to follow.
He himself walked at the very front, trembling, occasionally looking back at Klein and Ophelia riding behind him.
As the sun dipped low in the west, the shadows of the trees on both sides of the road stretched long.
Klein sat on his horse, looking at the gradually sharpening silhouette of Stonebridge Town ahead, and let out a helpless sigh.
"It seems this journey will be full of incidents."
Ophelia rode beside him, her golden ponytail swaying gently in the wind. She glanced at Klein, a hint of softness flashing in her eyes.
"Is it trouble?"
"Maybe, maybe not," Klein shrugged. "But it doesn't matter. We're just passing through anyway; we'll just hand the people over to the magistrate."
"Mm."
Ophelia nodded and said no more.
Her left hand was currently wearing that exquisite gauntlet, her fingers resting lightly on the hilt. The hand that had been polluted by the sea monster twitched slightly under the armor, as if responding to some kind of calling.
But her expression remained calm; she didn't even frown.
Two miles wasn't far.
After walking for a while, Stonebridge Town appeared in their line of sight.
The town wasn't large, but its perimeter walls were built sturdily.
The grayish-white stones were clearly aged, covered in moss and vines.
The wall was about twenty feet high, with simple wooden archer towers at the top, obviously intended for defense against bandits and beasts.
Two guards stood at the town entrance.
They wore worn leather armor, the leather on their chests polished shiny from years of use.
They held standard-issue spears with rusty tips that still looked sharp enough.
The two guards leaned against the gate, yawning lazily.
Seeing the caravan approach, they forced themselves to perk up and lifted their heads.
"Entry fee: two copper coins per carriage."
The guard on the left mechanically recited the rule, holding out his palm.
The caravan leader quickly pulled out his coin purse, found several copper coins, and handed them over.
The guard took the coins, tossed them in his hand, nodded, and was about to let them in.
But when they saw the bandits being dragged behind the carriage, their expressions changed instantly.
"What's going on here?"
The guard on the right walked over quickly, staring at the bandits.
His eyes flickered as he scrutinized one of the bandits' faces, and his pupils suddenly constricted.
"These guys... you are..."
Klein rode forward and stopped in front of the guards.
"We encountered some bandits on the road and caught a few."
His voice was calm, his pale gold eyes looking at the guard evenly.
"We want to hand them over to the magistrate now."
The guard's expression became even worse.
He exchanged a look with the guard beside him, a hint of hesitation—and even a hint of fear—flashing in their eyes.
"The magistrate... the magistrate isn't here right now."
His voice was somewhat dry, his Adam's apple bobbing several times.
"How about you wait for a bit? When he comes back, then..."
"Where is he?"
Ophelia's voice rang out.
She rode forward, her golden eyes fixed on the guard.
Those eyes were beautiful, but at this moment, they carried a cold, oppressive weight that seemed to pierce right through a person.
Staring into her eyes, the guard felt his whole body tighten; he instinctively took a step back, his back slamming heavily against the gate post.
"At... at the town hall..."
"Lead the way."
Ophelia's tone brooked no refusal.
She dismounted, her hand resting on her hilt as she stood silently before the guard.
The afterglow of the sunset spilled over her, making her golden hair seem to glow.
Her dark blue vest and white shirt looked exceptionally sharp in the light, her belt reflecting a cold sheen.
The person before him was clearly of no ordinary status; the guard figured that following her orders wouldn't count as a dereliction of duty.
The guard swallowed hard and could only nod.
"P-please follow me..."
He turned and walked into the town, his pace somewhat stiff.
Klein and Ophelia followed behind.
The caravan leader wanted to follow as well, but Klein stopped him.
"You stay here."
It was better to avoid trouble spreading to others.
The town was very quiet.
On either side of the flagstone road were low wooden houses; occasionally, a few residents could be seen standing in their doorways, peering out curiously.
When they saw the knight's sword at Ophelia's waist, they all lowered their heads and retreated back into their homes.
The town hall was in the center of town, a two-story stone building.
The architectural style was simple but much sturdier than the surrounding wooden houses.
A wooden sign hung by the door, with the words "Stonebridge Town Magistrate's Office" engraved in the imperial common tongue.
The script was somewhat faded, clearly having been there for many years.
The guard pushed open the door and walked in.
"My lord, someone is here."
His voice carried a bit of tension, even a slight tremor.
Inside the room, a middle-aged man sat behind an oak desk, holding a parchment document.
He looked up, saw Klein and Ophelia, and his brow furrowed.
This magistrate was about forty years old, with a short beard, wearing a semi-worn uniform.
A crest was embroidered on the chest of the uniform—a hawk with spreading wings.
His eyes were sharp, clearly not the type of an incompetent bureaucrat.
"What is it?"
Klein took a step forward.
"We encountered some bandits on the road and caught a few."
His voice was very calm.
"We're handing them over to you now."
The magistrate's face changed instantly.
He stood up abruptly, his chair making a harsh scraping sound against the floor. He walked quickly to the door and poked his head out to look at the bandits being dragged on the ground outside.
Then his expression became even worse, turning slightly pale.
"These men..."
"You recognize them?"
Klein's tone was somewhat playful.
The magistrate did not answer immediately.
He stared at the bandits, extremely complex emotions flashing in his eyes—terror, anger, helplessness...
After a long while, he finally took a deep breath, his voice somewhat raspy.
"Where is the leader?"
Klein pointed at Ophelia beside him.
"Killed."
The magistrate's face changed yet again.
He whipped his head around, looking at Ophelia with a flash of unbelievable terror in his eyes.
"You... you killed him?"
Ophelia nodded expressionlessly.
"He refused to release the people."
Her tone was calm, her golden eyes showing not a single ripple, as if she were speaking of a trivial matter.
The magistrate's face turned completely white.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but it was as if his throat were stuffed with cotton; he couldn't make a sound.
It took a long time before he could take a deep breath, his voice trembling violently.
"Where is the body?"
"On the highway."
Klein shrugged.
"If you go quickly, you might still be able to collect it. However, it's getting dark now, and there might be wild beasts on the road..."
The magistrate's body shuddered.
He turned around and stumbled back behind the desk, collapsing into his seat. The chair gave an overburdened creak.
He braced his hands on the desk, his fingers trembling slightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.
"Do you... do you know who he was?"
His voice carried a thick sense of despair, even a hint of a sob.
"He was the cousin of the Vice Commander of the Third Battalion of the Patrol Division! The Vice Commander's favorite cousin!"
"We know that now."
Klein pulled the bronze medal from his coat and tossed it casually onto the desk.
The medal spun several times on the surface, making a crisp clinking sound before coming to a stop in front of the magistrate.
"This thing."
The magistrate looked at the medal, his face turning even whiter, his lips trembling.
He looked up at Klein, his eyes full of terror and disbelief.
"Are you... are you people insane?"
His voice was somewhat shrill, almost a shout.
"Do you have any idea what the consequences of killing him are? People from the Patrol Division will come for you! The Vice Commander will absolutely never let you off!"
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