The journey was anything but peaceful. After crossing the border of Eastlyn, Prince Nolan and his party unexpectedly encountered a gang of bandits—not the kind organized by desperate villagers, but professional highwaymen who made their living through robbery.
These men were fierce and battle-hardened, blocking the road. As soon as Prince Nolan’s carriage stopped, they surrounded it.
When the carriage was stopped, Serena wasn’t nervous. She lifted the curtain and jumped out. Seeing the bandits’ outfits, she laughed, “Judging by your getup, you must be professional bandits.”
Dorian Owen’s ears perked up. He rushed forward, asking what “professional bandit” meant. After Serena explained, Dorian proudly patted his chest, “Don’t worry, I’m a professional killer.”
“That’s true. Then I’ll leave these guys to you.” Serena knew Dorian’s martial arts and didn’t hesitate.
He’s a bit weaker than Zuo An, but more than enough to handle these bandits.
“Relax, leave it to me.” Dorian might act unserious most days, but his martial skills were solid. With so many famous teachers, even if he slacked off, he wouldn’t be bad.
Originally, the bandits just wanted silver. But hearing Serena and Dorian’s words, they got angry and started shouting for the group’s lives.
Boss, this stinking woman is asking for death. Let’s grab her, have our fun, and sell her to a brothel.
Serena was outside, dressed as a woman per Prince Nolan’s instructions. The bandits’ words weren’t wrong. Dorian laughed, “Serena, listen to these guys. They’re even bolder than me. Even I wouldn’t dare say I’d sell you to a brothel.”
“No foul mouths left alive.” Prince Nolan was not so patient—his treasured woman had been insulted, and these men clearly didn’t value their lives.
“Got it, I promise none will be left.” Dorian didn’t waste words. As the bandits charged, he drew his sword and met them head-on. The Master of the Mystic Healer Valley shouted from the rear, “I’ve got bone-melting water! Want some? It’s essential for assassinations and corpse disposal.”
“Save it for when you die. I’ll use it on you.” Dorian fought one against a hundred, still had time to joke with the Valley Master, driving him into a rage: “You brat! If you die, I’ll still be alive!”
... Dorian wanted to reply but was too busy fighting.
There were too many bandits, and they were fearless. Hundreds attacked at once—Dorian was overwhelmed.
Killing is hard work.
Seeing this, Serena drew her gun and handed it to Prince Nolan. “Want to practice?”
It was a bit of a waste of bullets, but this wasn’t the time to worry—she could always get more.
She hadn’t earned enough Medical Ethics Points yet, so things like AK47s were a distant dream. Serena wouldn’t skimp on herself—Medical Ethics Points couldn’t be saved, so she’d use them when needed.
“I don’t know how.” Prince Nolan took the gun and jumped down, but didn’t move—instead, he signaled Serena to come teach him.
Truthfully, Prince Nolan already knew how to use the gun—he just wanted the pleasure of having Serena teach him.
Serena knew but didn’t call him out. She stepped forward and wrapped her small hand around Prince Nolan’s, her petite figure awkwardly standing behind him—though neither seemed to mind.
The carriage driver quietly looked away, while the dark guards stared at the sky—they saw nothing.
The Master of the Mystic Healer Valley looked on with disdain, glancing at Prince Nolan. But when Prince Nolan and Serena fired a shot that hit the bandit right in front of Dorian between the eyes, envy immediately replaced his scorn.
“This hidden weapon is amazing! Serena, do you have another one? Lend it to me so I can help out.” The Valley Master tried to sound official.
Unfortunately, no matter how good his excuse, Serena only had the one. Even if she had another, it would go to Prince Nolan or Sun Sixing first, never to the Valley Master.
While reloading, Serena turned to the Valley Master: “Sorry, I only have one.”
“Then you two go rest, I’ll handle it.” The Valley Master watched Prince Nolan and Serena fire another shot, itching to try himself.
This was truly the perfect self-defense weapon—if only he had one, no one would dare force him to heal anyone.
Prince Nolan turned away, shot the Valley Master a look, said nothing, and patted Serena’s hand to show he’d learned.
In truth, Prince Nolan was embarrassed—he’d just wanted to act together with Serena, forgetting the situation. The Valley Master’s interruption made his ears burn red.
No one else noticed, but Serena—standing right behind Prince Nolan—saw it all and stepped back with a quiet laugh.
Prince Nolan took a deep breath, calmed himself, and fired several shots around Dorian—each one hitting dead center.
Turning back, he saw the Valley Master still there. Prince Nolan swung the gun toward him, making the Valley Master jump in fright. Recovering, he carefully pushed the gun aside with two fingers, “Easy, easy! Don’t mess around. If I die, no one will earn you any silver.”
“Earn silver? When have you ever earned any, besides spending mine?” The Valley Master’s medicines were priceless, and he never sold the good ones—Prince Nolan wouldn’t sell them either.
“Fine, I’ll spend less in the future. Just don’t point that thing at me—I want to live a few more years, and I still have medicines to make.” The Valley Master relaxed when the gun was no longer aimed at him and hurried back to the carriage.
“I’m tired. I’ll go sleep—call me when you’ve finished killing.”
Serena shook her head: Only you can handle him.
“He responds to force, not kindness.” Prince Nolan thought a moment, then added, “Just like Dorian and Zed.”
He was reminding Serena not to go soft on these three—kindness would only bring trouble, as each of them would take advantage.
I know—we should help Dorian out. There are too many of them, and we don’t know if they have more allies. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can get moving.” Serena glanced at Dorian, who was enjoying himself, and sighed.
Only Dorian and Zed could treat killing as a game. The two were alike, though Dorian wasn’t as cruel as Zed.
Prince Nolan waved his hand, and eight dark figures immediately flew out. With their arrival, the bandits couldn’t hold out.
These eight were even fiercer than Dorian. Dorian killed with flair—he made it look good. After watching him fight for so long without a drop of blood on him, it was clear.
The eight newcomers were practical—they joined the fight, slashing with their blades, blood spraying everywhere. It was pure, violent brutality.
Seeing the bandits dwindle, suddenly there was movement on both sides of the path…