Chapter 59: Everyone Has an Old Master!

The sounds of battle ceased, and the militiamen and the bandits faced off across the narrow doorway of the watchtower’s corridor.

To reinforce its defenses, the entrance to the stone fortress led through a corridor five or six meters long, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. Behind the walls on either side, rooms had been opened from within, with small shooting windows in the stone, perfect for repelling attackers.

But now, most of the rooms in the watchtower had collapsed, and all the bandits were gathered in the main hall.

After a fierce fight, only five remained on the bandits’ side: their leader, Brother Lawrence, and his two armed retainers.

Brother Lawrence, who had been hiding in the main hall, hurriedly donned his sacred white robe embroidered with gold, holding a scripture in his hands.

He appeared at the far end of the corridor, faint golden light radiating from him, giving him an aura of solemn majesty. He cried out, “I am a follower of the Holy Light, your father! Those who believe in me, I shall forgive your souls! Those who do not—shall suffer the wrath of the Holy Light!”

Both the militiamen and the bandits watched his performance in silence.

Brother Lawrence found the lack of reaction incomprehensible. In his subconscious, people feared the Holy Light more than death; at this moment, they should be cowering, kneeling, and praying.

But then he realized: this was the Northern Realm, where the Holy Light held little sway.

The people of the North had no faith in the Holy Light! All heretics!

So he decided to show his true power, beginning to recite lengthy prayers in a low voice, incomprehensible to those around him.

The faint golden glow surrounding him began to fade, and the light around his body quickly darkened, his entire figure becoming pale, as if a portrait had lost its color.

The already gloomy main hall seemed to plunge into night, faces barely visible in the shadows.

“Word of Darkness—Mind Lash!”

As Brother Lawrence shouted and pointed, Leo felt as if his head had been cleaved in two, a violent pain surging from his forehead, as though his soul were being torn apart.

This was a world of magic!

Despite the excruciating pain, a thought flashed through Leo’s mind.

And I was calmly watching him cast his spell!

“Hm?”

In that instant, a perplexed voice echoed deep within his mind, followed by a surge of powerful, mysterious spiritual energy.

It was as if a gentle breeze swept across his face—the burning agony in his soul vanished, leaving only a cool, refreshing sensation.

The pain had been nothing but an illusion.

Understanding what had happened, Leo shouted inwardly, “Master Bobak, I love you!”

Master Bobak, the Grand Druid, replied kindly, “You’re welcome.”

Freya’s childish voice reached him from afar, “Leo, Leo, I love you too!”

Leo had thought that the soul-link spell cast by Bobak was only for communication, never expecting it could also dispel curses from afar!

In the face of Bobak’s immense spiritual power, such a low-level curse was swept away like smoke in the wind.

Leo was delighted—who doesn’t have a wise old man watching over them?

To the others, Leo merely frowned for a moment, then his expression returned to normal, his lips curling in a gentle smile.

It was as if he’d suffered no more than a lover's playful slap.

Brother Lawrence, the caster of the curse, was stunned.

Even those awakened to supernatural power would be incapacitated for a time by his Word of Darkness, suffering mental shock and soul-burning agony.

How could this ordinary young man be completely unharmed?

By all rights, he should have dropped his weapon, howled on his knees, terrifying his militiamen into surrender.

The bandit leader looked at Brother Lawrence as if he were an idiot. With no knowledge of magic, he assumed the holy man was just bluffing.

At this point, who would still be deceived?

It was time to show true strength!

He shoved aside the bewildered Brother Lawrence and stepped forward.

He shouted at Leo, “You! Damn you, you’ve slaughtered my men. Let’s settle this one-on-one!”

When it came to duels, anyone below Awakened level—he feared no one!

The previous leader died just that way.

Leo could barely understand the bandit leader’s strange Western accent, glowering at him. “Woof woof?”

He took Ivan’s crossbow from beside him and pulled the trigger.

“Woof now?”

The bandit leader stared in disbelief at the crossbow bolt lodged deep in his chest, clutching his wound with one hand and pointing at Leo with the other. “You! You… don’t play fair…”

He collapsed before finishing his sentence.

What nonsense—daring to woof at me? Even kobolds aren’t that reckless!

Leo gazed coldly at the bandit leader’s corpse and shouted at the remaining men, “Drop your weapons and surrender! Lay down your arms and you’ll be spared!”

Seeing the remaining bandits hesitate, Brother Lawrence cried, “Don’t listen to him! Hold the corridor—they can’t break through!”

Following his command, the two armed retainers raised their fan-shaped shields, blocking the passage.

The militiamen tried to shoot the bandits with crossbows, but the experienced retainers deftly intercepted the bolts with their shields.

Leo had no intention of sacrificing his men in a frontal assault. He waved his hand and said, “Burn them out!”

Immediately, half the militiamen continued to block the doorway, while the other half ran to collect firewood, tossing it into the corridor to burn the bandits alive.

The main hall inside was small, with only a few rooms and no other exits. After burning for half an hour, the smoke alone would be enough to kill.

At this moment, Ujin arrived with the squad of militiamen who had been lying in ambush outside, joining Leo, his head lowered, not daring to meet his gaze.

All eleven militiamen bore wounds; one’s fur armor was split open, revealing a gaping wound on his back. Though bandaged, his face was pale, barely able to stand.

“What happened?” Leo asked, frowning.

Ujin stammered, “We had a few skirmishes, but don’t worry—not a single one escaped. We cut them all down.”

Leo looked at him and immediately guessed the reason, murmuring, “We’ll deal with you later.”

Ujin, seeing only five bandits left, thought that his eleven men had the advantage, so he led them in a charge.

But the remaining bandits were hardened killers, far more experienced than the militiamen.

Earlier, under the hail of spears and crossbow bolts, the bandits had seemed clumsy and unimpressive.

But in close combat, the difference in skill was clear.

In the first exchange, several militiamen were wounded; their shields could not block the bandits’ cunning strikes.

The bandits moved like slippery eels—militiamen’s short swords never found their mark.

Fortunately, Leo’s daily training paid off. Even in the charge, the militiamen subconsciously maintained formation; when they suffered losses, they quickly regrouped.

With coordinated shield work, they protected each other, attacking in unison, returning to their drilled tactics—thus they managed to slay the five bandits.

On the open ground outside the watchtower, the militiamen gathered firewood, along with some bandit tents and felt blankets, tossing them into the corridor and setting them alight. Thick smoke billowed forth.

As the flames rose, panic seized those inside. Brother Lawrence finally shouted in desperation, “Charge out! Charge out! Fight them head-on!”