Has the knight lady who married into the countryside fallen into depravity today?

Under the empire's rule, the land was vast and the laws were strict.

Over the years, although there have been occasional acts of mischief by petty thieves, the overall situation has been relatively peaceful.

Klein and Ophelia hurried along the road after leaving the town.

Horse hooves pounded the dirt road, kicking up specks of dust. The afternoon sun filtered through the treetops, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

Klein calculated that the entire journey would take no more than three days.

He originally thought there wouldn't be any surprises.

The road conditions were good, and it was an official road, so even if the bandits were rampant, they wouldn't dare to make a big show of themselves in the empire's directly administered territory.

But an unexpected event still occurred.

The next afternoon, they climbed over a gentle slope and were walking along the forest path.

A commotion was heard ahead.

It wasn't the usual shouts of a caravan; the voices were mixed with curses and screams, the neighing of horses, and the dull thud of something heavy hitting the ground.

Klein pulled on the reins, and Ophelia's horse came to a stop.

She turned her head, her golden eyes looking in the direction from which the sound came, her brows furrowing slightly.

"Someone has been attacked." Her voice was very soft.

Klein nodded.

"That doesn't sound right."

The two men simultaneously tightened their grip on the horses' bellies, increasing their speed.

After turning a corner in the forest road, the view suddenly opened up.

In the open space ahead, a caravan was being surrounded.

Three horse-drawn carriages loaded with goods were blocking the middle of the road. The curtains on the carriages were torn in half, revealing sacks and wooden crates inside.

Some goods had been thrown on the ground, sacks were torn, and coarse white salt was spilled all over the ground.

Seven or eight robbers surrounded the caravan, carrying machetes and short axes. Some of them were climbing onto the carriages and tearing off goods to throw on the ground.

They were rough and swearing, clearly not the first time they had done something like this.

A middle-aged man wearing a patched short jacket knelt on the ground, blood dripping from his arm onto the soil, spreading out in a dark red hue.

He kept begging for mercy, his voice hoarse and filled with despair.

Two young men stood behind him, presumably his sons or apprentices, their faces ashen, gripping wooden sticks, but their hands trembled, and they dared not step forward.

One of the young men had a bloody mark on his forehead, clearly indicating that he had just been beaten.

The gang leader was a lean, bald man with a scar on his face that stretched from the corner of his left eye to his chin, making him look particularly fierce.

He was standing on a wooden crate, looking down at the caravan leader with a mocking smile on his face.

"I'm asking you, where's the money?"

"Everything's here, it's all yours, it's all yours!"

The caravan leader's voice trembled; he was almost crying as he spoke.

"These goods were all purchased with borrowed money; please, have mercy..."

"Shut the fuck up!"

The bald man kicked the caravan leader in the shoulder, knocking him to the ground.

The caravan leader fell to the ground with a cry of pain, his injured arm pressed against his body, his face contorted in agony.

"Who asked about these rags and junk? Gold coins! What about your caravan's toll fees?"

The bald man squatted down, grabbed the caravan leader by the collar, and lifted him up.

"Don't you know my rules? No one can pass through this road without paying a toll!"

"We really...we don't have much on us, just a few silver coins, all...all in our pockets..."

The caravan leader trembled as he pulled a cloth bag from his pocket and handed it over with both hands.

The bald man took the cloth bag, weighed it in his hand, and his face darkened.

"That's all?"

He ripped open the cloth bag and poured out three silver coins, which fell to the ground.

"Are you fucking trying to fob me off like a beggar?"

The bald man raised his foot and stepped on the caravan leader's hand.

"ah--"

The caravan leader screamed in agony.

"My lord, spare me! There's really nothing left! My whole family is counting on this business..."

"I'll take care of your whole family!"

The bald man stomped on it again, then released it and turned to look at the carriage.

"Search it! Find everything valuable!"

Several robbers responded and began to search the goods more roughly.

Klein and Ophelia exchanged a glance.

Without saying a word, the two had already reached a consensus.

Klein was not the kind of person who could sit idly by.

Ophelia is even less likely.

She is a knight.

The code of chivalry naturally includes protecting the weak.

Ophelia dismounted swiftly and decisively.

She didn't draw her sword immediately, but loosened the scabbard at her waist, making a slight metallic scraping sound, and then strode towards the caravan.

Her steps were steady, each step firm, her boots making a clear sound on the ground.

Klein followed behind her, his fingers twitching slightly as magic gathered at his fingertips, ready to cast a spell at any moment.

He could feel the aura emanating from Ophelia—the imposing presence of a knight, calm, resolute, and unquestionable.

They walked neither fast nor slow, but their footsteps were very clear.

The robbers quickly noticed them.

"Um?"

The bald man stopped what he was doing and turned his head.

His gaze first fell on Klein—a young man dressed in an elegant black robe, carrying a bulging bag, who looked like a scholar or a minor nobleman.

Then his gaze shifted to Ophelia.

Blonde hair, high ponytail, dark blue vest, leather boots, wristbands.

His demeanor was that of a knight.

Moreover, he is a genuine knight, not one that a fake can fake.

The bald man narrowed his eyes, and the smile on his face faded slightly.

"Where did it come from?"

His men also surrounded him, their machetes and short axes gleaming coldly in the sunlight.

One of the robbers licked his lips, his eyes scanning Ophelia with ill intent.

"Boss, this woman is pretty good-looking..."

The bald man raised his hand to stop him.

"Shut up."

He stared at Ophelia, a hint of wariness flashing in his eyes.

Anyone dressed like that is either a true knight or a fearless madman.

But no matter which one it is, they are not to be trifled with.

It's just a little troublesome, though.

Ophelia did not answer.

She simply kept walking until she was less than ten steps away from the robber.

Then stop.

Release them.

Her voice was calm and even, as if she were stating an unquestionable fact.

It was not a request, not a discussion, but a command.

The bald man paused for a moment, then laughed.

"You little wench, are you talking to me?"

He took two steps forward, his smile returning to his face, but his eyes turned cold.

"Do you know whose territory this is?"

Release them.

Ophelia repeated it.

Her tone remained unchanged, but Klein could sense that her right hand was already on the hilt of the sword, her fingers gently gripping the groove in the hilt.

That was the preparatory action before drawing the sword.

The bald man's smile vanished.

He took two steps forward, his face darkening.

"I'm in a bad mood today, so if you know what's good for you, get lost."

He raised his hand and pointed at Ophelia.

"Don't think you're something special just because you're wearing knight's armor. I've seen plenty of knights!"

"I'll say it again, release them."

Ophelia's voice remained calm, but a chill had crept into her golden eyes.

The bald man suddenly waved his hand.

"Chop her up!"

Before he could finish speaking, three robbers pounced on him.

The short axe cleaved straight down, the machete swept horizontally, and the spear thrust straight forward; their movements were fierce and their teamwork was impeccable, clearly indicating that this was not their first time working together.

Ophelia moved.

Her figure suddenly moved forward, so fast that she was almost invisible.

He drew his sword with his right hand, the blade flashing a golden light through the air, accompanied by a whooshing sound.

Before the first robber could even bring down his short axe, the sword blade struck the axe handle with pinpoint accuracy.

"Click—"

The axe handle broke, and the short axe flew out, tumbling several times in the air before embedding itself in a nearby tree trunk.

The robber lost his balance, stumbled back three steps, and landed hard on his backside.

The second robber swung his machete, but Ophelia dodged to the side and slammed her sword back against his wrist.

"ah--"

The robber screamed, dropped his knife, and collapsed to his knees, clutching his wrist, his face ashen.

The third robber reacted the fastest, trying to flank and launch a surprise attack.

But Ophelia had already turned around, stepped forward with her left foot, and kicked him in the knee with her right leg like a whip.

"Click—"

A crisp sound.

The robber's knees buckled, and he collapsed to his knees, his face deathly pale and cold sweat pouring down his forehead.

From drawing the sword to finishing, it took no more than three seconds.

Klein hadn't even had a chance to make a move yet.

He watched Ophelia sheath her sword, a slight smile playing on his lips.

This lady knight doesn't need his help at all.

However... she looks really cool in battle.

The bald man's expression changed.

He stared at Ophelia, the contempt in his eyes vanishing, replaced by apprehension and wariness.

"He really is a knight?"

His voice lowered slightly.

"A formal knight?"

Ophelia did not answer.

She simply stared at him, her golden eyes devoid of any emotion, as if she were looking at a dead man.

The bald man gritted his teeth and suddenly whistled.

A sharp whistle echoed through the woods.

Two figures darted out of the woods.

One of them was carrying a crossbow, and the other was holding a long spear.

The two men moved swiftly, clearly well-trained, and not ordinary mountain bandits.

Klein frowned.

There was also an ambush.

Moreover, the coordination of these people was clearly trained.

The crossbowman raised his hand, aiming the bolt at Ophelia's chest.

The spearmen circled around to the side, blocking the retreat, their spears pointed diagonally, ready to thrust at any moment.

The bald man sneered.

"So what if you're a knight? I've killed way too many knights!"

He took two steps back to a safe distance.

"Shoot!"

The crossbowman pulled the trigger.

"Whoosh—"

The crossbow bolts pierced the air.

Ophelia did not move.

She simply stood there, her right hand resting on the hilt of her sword once more.

Klein sighed.

Although he knew Ophelia didn't need any help, he couldn't just do nothing, could he?

He raised his hand, and the magic at his fingertips coalesced into a form, causing a faint ripple in the air.

An invisible force burst forth from his fingertips, heading straight for the crossbowman.

The crossbowman's crossbow suddenly became hot, causing him to cry out in surprise.

"Ouch—it's hot! It's hot!"

The crossbow fell to the ground, and the bolt veered off course, embedding itself in the nearby soil.

At the same time, Ophelia moved.

She lunged forward again, even faster than before.

The sword was drawn, flashing a dazzling golden light in the sunlight, heading straight for the bald man.

The bald man's face changed drastically; he tried to dodge, but it was too late.

His fighting spirit surged wildly, forming a protective layer on his body.

But it didn't work.

The blade pierced through his battle aura defense in an instant, as easily as cutting through a thin sheet of paper.

The sword tip stopped an inch in front of his throat.

The bald man froze.

He could feel the chill emanating from the tip of the sword; it was the aura of death.

Ophelia's voice rang out, still calm.

"I said, release them."

There was silence all around.

All the robbers were stunned and dared not move.

The caravan leader knelt on the ground, his eyes wide, unable to believe what he was seeing.

The bald man had the sword tip pressed against his throat, but he showed no sign of yielding.

He grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth.

"If you've got the guts, then kill me."

His voice was rough and hoarse, carrying a reckless, defiant air.

"You little vixen, do you dare?"

Ophelia's sword did not move.

She looked at him, her golden eyes showing no emotion.

Are you sure?

The bald man smiled.

His laughter was hoarse, carrying a sense of recklessness and a touch of madness.

"You little wench, do you know who's behind me?"

He pressed his throat against the sword tip, but instead of retreating, he moved forward slightly.

"The deputy battalion commander of the Third Battalion of the Western Border Patrol Division of the Empire is my cousin."

He grinned, revealing a set of yellow teeth, his eyes gleaming with smugness.

"I'm one of his men. All the caravans in this area have to pay me. Why do you think I dare to take action on the main road?"

His voice grew louder and more arrogant.

"Because I have someone protecting me!"

Ophelia's sword did not move.

"so?"

Her voice remained calm, but Klein noticed that her brow furrowed slightly.

That was a rare emotional outburst from her.

"So if you lay a finger on me, someone will come looking for trouble for you tomorrow."

The bald man's voice was smug, but also threatening.

"Knights of the Empire? Ha, I've seen plenty of those. The thing you people fear most is getting into legal trouble."

He leaned forward, and the tip of the sword pierced the skin of his throat, drawing a little blood.

But he doesn't care.

"If you've got the guts, then kill me."

His eyes were fixed on Ophelia, a mad glint in them.

"Do you dare? If you kill me, the patrol officers will come to arrest you tomorrow. Then you'll lose your knighthood."

He laughed even more wildly.

"You knights care nothing more than about reputation and honor. I bet you won't dare lay a hand on me!"

Klein stood to the side, finding it somewhat amusing.

Ophelia's face was expressionless.

There was no hesitation or anger in his golden eyes.

Only peace.

"What is there to be afraid of?"

Her voice was soft, but firm.

Then she moved.

The blade spun, the tip of the sword moved away from the bald man's throat, and then swept horizontally.

"boom--"

A muffled thud.

Moreover, there were two muffled thuds, one from the head and one from the body.

Ophelia sheathed her sword.

The movements were swift and decisive, without the slightest hesitation.

She turned around and looked at the other robbers around her.

Those people were terrified.

They looked at the bald man lying on the ground, then at Ophelia, their faces pale.

With their leader downed in a single sword strike, how could they dare to resist?

One of the robbers realized what was happening and turned to run.

"Run!"

The others followed suit, abandoning their weapons.

Klein raised his hand.

Magic burst forth from his fingertips, transforming into an invisible force that formed an invisible barrier in the air, pressing down on the robbers.

Their bodies suddenly felt heavy, as if they were being pressed down by something, and they staggered and fell to the ground.

"ah--"

"What happened?"

"My body...I can't move..."