King of the North: My Lord's Diary Weekly Summary

The bandits didn't give Wayne much time to rest.

Just as Wayne took advantage of a brief moment to pull out a small piece of cured venison from his pocket and put it in his mouth to replenish his strength, new noises came from the north.

Wayne immediately swallowed the meat, crouched down, and looked out the window of the cabin.

Four bandits are sneaking in from the north entrance of the village.

This time, their movements were noticeably more cautious—no longer a loose triangular formation, but a straight line with each person maintaining a distance of five or six meters from one another.

The person in front would stop every few steps, listen carefully, look left and right, and only after confirming it was safe would they raise their hand to signal the people behind them to follow.

Wayne was initially delighted—could it be that they had simply shortened the interval between attacks and sent another scout team?

He immediately turned his head to look in the west direction.

It was quiet over there, without any sound.

"wrong……"

Wayne frowned.

The bandits have also changed their tactics.

After thinking it over, he immediately discarded any unnecessary assumptions, leaving only one thought in his mind: bait warfare.

The Black Blade Gang only has about forty members, and the situation in the border region doesn't allow them to have outside help.

Since Ronald took over yesterday, four people have been killed, plus the six who were just wiped out, making a total of ten.

Now four more have been sent—if this is just for reconnaissance, the loss rate is already ridiculously high.

The only explanation is that these four people were the bait themselves.

They were almost certain that Ronald was now incapacitated.

So the mission of these four people wasn't reconnaissance... so it could only be to lure us into battle.

Once Wayne makes a move, the main force lying in ambush will pounce.

Once Wayne understood this, a chill ran down his spine.

While pondering a countermeasure, he continued to observe the four bandits.

Sure enough, this time they didn't go far, stopping about thirty meters from the village entrance.

Then, the bandits, in pairs, went to two adjacent wooden houses and took out fire sticks from their pockets.

There are fewer than sixty households in the village, and only a dozen or so houses on the north side.

They burned two houses at a time, and within half an hour all the surrounding houses were burned down.

When the defensive line shrinks and the space for maneuver is compressed, if the main force of the bandits pushes up again, it will be a positional war with huge casualties.

Wayne cursed himself for not knowing how to use a bow—if he knew how to shoot arrows, he could have taken care of the two arsonists from a distance, or at least bought some time.

But right now, even knowing it's a trap, he has to jump in.

"We must act quickly."

Wayne quickly calculated in his mind.

Since the enemy started the fires in two places, we should wait until both houses are on fire before killing the four people in batches.

This reduced the opposing team by four members, bringing their total number down to around thirty.

As long as I can safely retreat to the central area and lead fourteen cavalrymen to fight a guerrilla war, even if I can't defeat the enemy directly, I can at least prevent the bandits from quickly advancing to the southeast.

Thinking of this, Wayne's lips curled into a cold smile.

The strategic thinking left by our predecessors is truly insightful.

He jumped down from the wooden house silently, landing without even raising a speck of snow.

The body control brought by the Frostwolf bloodline was on full display at this moment—Vayne's steps were as light as a cat's, his breathing was extremely low, and his whole body blended into the shadow cast by the building.

Flames broke out on the outer walls of the two wooden houses one after the other.

The dry wood didn't burn very quickly at the low temperature, but the orange-red flames were already licking at the planks, making crackling sounds.

The four bandits had clearly learned their lesson and remained highly vigilant even when lighting the fire.

They were paired up, about ten steps apart, each guarding their own newly lit house, their eyes constantly scanning their surroundings.

But what the bandits didn't expect was that Wayne had already used the noise of the burning flames behind them as cover to silently sneak up into the empty house that was about to be burned in front of two of them.

They were separated from death by only one door.

Wayne was pressed against the door, and through the gap in the door panel, he could see the backs of two bandits outside.

They were facing away from the door, towards the burning house, holding knives, their bodies tense.

The crackling of the flames masked all the subtle sounds—including Wayne's heart, which was no longer pounding with tension from the sneak attack.

Wayne adjusted his breathing; the frost raven glands in his chest throbbed steadily, bringing a chilling focus.

He listened to the sounds outside and judged the positions of the two people—one was three steps to the left front, and the other was two and a half steps to the right front.

He slowly moved to the side of the doorknob and chose to wait.

Wait until the flames burn brighter, until the smoke thickens, until the two men, having been on guard for so long, begin to relax—

"Snap!"

A crisp cracking sound came from the wooden house next door, as if a beam had snapped.

It's now!

Wayne slammed the door shut and lunged forward with his sword in hand!

Among the four bandits, there were no strong men, no cripples, and no bearded men; they were at most on par with Scarface. Of course, he wasn't afraid to fight!

Things went even more smoothly than Wayne had imagined; he was indeed much stronger—the two men turned around abruptly at the sound, but Wayne's sword was already at them.

"puff!"

The first sword strike pierced the chest of the bandit on the left. The tip of the sword penetrated the leather armor and went in at least three inches.

With a flick of his wrist, Wayne slashed horizontally—the blade cut into his ribs and churned inside his chest.

The bandit screamed and blood gushed from his mouth.

The bandit on the right had just drawn his machete when Wayne stepped forward, using his left hand to assist his right, and changed his sword move from slashing to thrusting—

"laugh!"

The blade moved nimbly, dodging the opponent's hastily raised parry, and stabbed diagonally under the ribs, piercing through the abdomen.

The two bandits lost their ability to resist almost simultaneously. One had his chest cut open, and blood gushed out; the other had a sword wound in his abdomen and was curled up and convulsing.

But neither of those two sword strikes was enough to kill instantly.

To make matters worse, the other two bandits who were supposed to set fires elsewhere weren't doing so at all—they had been lying in ambush behind a broken wall a little further away and had witnessed Wayne's attack the whole time!

"Black hair, black eyes, brooding and handsome... Third Master! Wayne is here!!"

One of them screamed, his voice unusually piercing amidst the crackling of the fire.

Wayne knew something was wrong—they really were after their core combat force.

Without lingering in the fight, he swung his sword, delivering a final blow to each of the two bandits who were not quite dead yet, and turned to rush into the alley.

But at that moment—

His left palm suddenly became burning hot!

This time, the sound of pages turning barely stopped, and silver text appeared before Wayne's eyes:

September 3rd, Arthurian calendar 324.

You unfortunately lost the 100-meter race against the arrows.

The moment he saw the words, Wayne's body reacted instantly—he quickly dodged to the right—

Less than two seconds later, Wayne heard a thud from the still unburnt roof of the wooden house behind him.

Then, with a "whoosh," the arrow pierced straight into the room that Wayne had just been trying to enter.

Wayne rolled on the ground, then knelt down on one knee, his heart filled with fear.

There are still experts!

How could there be such archers among the mountain bandits?!