Under Susan's guidance, Lance identified the next target: a ruffian who was dead drunk.
Lance slashed the ruffian's throat with his Dagger. Blood spurted out—SQUIRT! SQUIRT! No matter how much the man struggled, he eventually turned into a corpse.
Raising his hand to offer the Sacrifice, Lance looked at the blood smeared on his hands. He felt little, picked up some clothes from the ground to wipe off the blood, and then carelessly threw them away.
In this world, if you don't adapt, you'll be ruthlessly abandoned.
Among the thirty or so sheriffs, all the insignificant ruffians had been cleared away, leaving only the mercenaries.
"The next one is the leader of these mercenaries; he's wearing armor and weapons snatched from veterans. Be careful," Susan warned.
Previously, they had picked on weaker targets, but now they did the exact opposite, directly approaching the one who seemed to be the strongest leader among the mercenaries.
Lance did not underestimate the mercenaries just because he had harvested a few insignificant ruffians before. These people lived on the edge of life and death all year round. Although they were not as formidable as Dismas and Reynard, they definitely had something to them if they had survived. Their vigilance couldn't be compared to those ruffians.
But these men, having experienced the bandits' invasion, were now like birds startled by the mere twang of a bow. Once I take down the strongest one, even if my actions are exposed, the rest of the mercenaries definitely won't dare to touch me. Such is their nature.
If I start with the other mercenaries, and one escapes, it will rally the rest under the leader, obstructing my plans.
Lance knew he was taking a risk. But I believe their strength will bring me victory.
The mayor had specially provided the mercenary leader with a brick-and-stone house to gain his support. When Lance and his group arrived, they heard a woman's severe screams and wails.
"This man has perverted tastes," Susan said, an undertone of resentment in her voice that caused Lance to slightly close his eyes. "Although he is tall and strong, he's short and weak down below and can only feel pleasure by abusing others. In recent days, three women have already died at his hands."
"Let's move!"
Dismas, having knocked about at the bottom for years, found such a lock no obstacle. He easily opened the door, and the group crept towards the source of the sound.
It couldn't be denied that the woman's wails and the leader's laughter perfectly masked their approach. The leader had no reaction even when they arrived at the door of the room.
By this point, there was no turning back. Lance exchanged glances with the other two and whispered a warning.
"I still have a use for him; try not to kill him."
Reynard brandished his Longsword, kicked open the door, and charged in, followed by Dismas with a Short Sword in one hand and a pistol in the other.
Lance gestured to stop Susan from going in, trailing a step behind. After hearing the woman's scream and the ensuing chaos inside, he then entered the room.
The already small room suddenly felt very crowded with several people inside. Lance could only see a bare-chested, corpulent man wielding a whip, barely blocking Reynard's slashes. On one side of the room, a completely naked woman was tied to a wooden frame, her body covered in whip marks.
And in the moment Lance was distracted, Reynard's Longsword cut through the whip and landed on the leader's shoulder.
It had to be said that his layers of fat were not just for show. They actually absorbed the blow as he roared and attempted a bear hug—a truly bone-crushing embrace if executed firmly.
Unfortunately for the leader, Reynard's battlefield-honed skills were even more exquisite. His arms dropped, positioning the Longsword vertically in front of him before pressing it forward. In Lance's view, the leader's movement seemed more like delivering his neck to the blade's edge.
The leader realized this, but he too was a ruthless character. He knew that backing off would certainly lead to his death; now, throwing caution to the wind, there might still be a chance to live. Astonishingly, he grabbed the sword's blade, pushing it aside while the sharp Sword Blade simultaneously cut open his palm—if he hadn't released it quickly, he would likely have lost his fingers as well.
Yet his action paid off; his neck dodged the Sword Blade. Reynard was now within the range of the leader's attack, who was confident that not even armor could withstand his strength.
But such matters are often relative, for the leader was also within Reynard's striking distance.
Reynard suddenly lifted his hands while leaning back with the sword. The Longsword, in the cramped room, was somehow unobstructed as the hidden hilt, like a snake's swift strike, brutally pounded against the leader's jaw, flipping him backward onto the ground.
A cardinal sin on the battlefield is giving your enemy a chance to catch their breath, and Reynard was not about to make that mistake. He followed up with a couple of hits with the hilt, ensuring the leader was thoroughly knocked unconscious. Then he pressed the Longsword against the man's neck, readying for any possible movement that could result in a senseless demise.
If the leader had been fully equipped, he might still have had the strength to fight. But now, facing Reynard, it was a dead end. If I didn't need him alive, he probably would've been decapitated by now.
Dismas, who had initially rushed in eager to join the fray, found the space was too cramped. With the leader cornered, he simply couldn't get past, reduced to watching Reynard pick off the easy target.
"Don't rush, the night is still young," Lance reassured him before approaching the woman tied to the rack. "Come over and help."
The two men freed the woman and laid her on a nearby bed. Not a single patch of skin on her body was intact; it was covered with lash marks and bruises from blunt force trauma.
"Absolutely inhuman," Dismas couldn't help but curse upon seeing the woman's wounds.
Consumed by fear at the sight of the intruders, the woman's first instinct after being freed was to shrink back on the bed, trembling.
"Don't be afraid, we're not bad guys," Lance said, not intending to spend much energy on her. After dropping those words, he went over to the leader, where the three men dragged him up and tied him to the rack.
The very implements he used to torture others have now become his own shackles.
Lance checked him over and found that the horsewhip had absorbed most of the force. The wound on his shoulder wasn't too serious, and the injuries on his hands were manageable.
After things had calmed down, Susan, who had been waiting outside, entered. Seeing the scene, she couldn't help but question:
"Why didn't you kill him?"
"Don't you think killing him like that would be letting him off too easily?" Lance said with a cold sneer.
I not only want to kill him, but also to crush his spirit. I will use this scum's life to establish my authority.
Susan said nothing. Though she didn't understand, she chose to comply.
"Take care of her," Lance instructed.
After handing the woman over to Susan, Lance proceeded with Dismas to loot the house.
They quickly found a set of armor, a Warhammer, and a Shield, which were most likely the veteran's equipment.