Hello, is this a letter addressed to Demon Fortress?

The refugees were unaware of the Rostov family's power.

The towering city walls completely isolated them from the city.

Without proper clothing, even if they managed to sneak into the city through a small hole secretly dug in the city wall, they would be quickly driven out by the patrolling city guards.

Because they simply cannot afford a normal piece of clothing without patches.

In this era, clothing is status, and status is a ticket.

Those without tickets don't even have the right to stand on the streets of the city.

They were unaware of the Rostov family's actual status in Copper Gate City, or what that surname meant within the city's aristocratic circles.

But they knew how terrible Harold was.

This is not the first time Harold has gone on a killing spree in the refugee neighborhood.

Almost every time he encountered something unpleasant—whether it was being scolded by his father, losing money at the casino, or having his desired woman snatched away by someone else—he would bring people out of the city.

Sometimes he would wear a magnificent brocade robe and lead a team of fully armed knights, charging into the refugee district like a hunter, and cutting down anyone he didn't like.

Sometimes he would put on a tattered cloak, blend into the crowd, and stab people one by one with a dagger, then leave, as if playing a hunting game.

Other nobles never ventured into the refugee quarters; to them, it was a very low-class thing to do.

Coming to the refugee area is no different from killing them.

Only Harold, that madman, often disguises himself and goes on a killing spree here.

The displaced people still remember what happened last winter.

At that time, there was a famine in the refugee area, and some people were so hungry that they stole grain from a grain shop in the city.

That grain shop happened to be owned by the Rostov family.

Harold arrived with his men that very night.

Instead of going after the grain thieves, he randomly chose an alley, blocked both ends, and then killed them one by one.

More than three hundred people died that night.

There were elderly people, women, and children.

The next morning, the bodies were piled up at the entrance of the alley, like a pile of carelessly discarded garbage.

Harold stood in front of the corpse, laughing as he told the onlookers that if anyone stole from the Rostov family again, he would kill everyone in the entire North District.

From that day on, no one in the refugee neighborhood dared to approach any of the Rostov family's properties.

In the hearts of the refugees, Harold was almost a god-like figure.

No one dared to offend him.

So when they heard that the post office had reopened, and that it was located at the city gate, their first thought was that the blonde woman was doomed.

Harold won't let her leave the city alive.

A thin, middle-aged man squeezed into the crowd and spoke in a low voice to the person next to him.

"Last time she dared to open a post office in the refugee district, Lord Harold already killed many people."

"This time she drove right up to the city gate; isn't that like slapping him in the face in front of everyone?"

The person next to him nodded and sighed.

"By the time we get there, there will probably only be a corpse left."

Someone whispered something.

"The corpse is fine... That woman is prettier than a noblewoman's daughter. Harold might cripple her and kidnap her."

The people around fell silent.

No one refuted.

Because everyone knows that this is possible.

Actually, many people didn't have any mail to send when they went to the post office.

They just wanted to see what the blonde woman looked like.

Some people even queued up, only to hastily write a letter and give a random name when they got to the counter, just to catch a glimpse of her.

Then, after the woman left, Harold's men arrived.

Of those who were dragged out and killed, half may never have actually sent a letter.

They just took a quick look.

That's it.

With this in mind, the crowd surged toward the new address written on the flyer.

The new post office is located near the city gate, in a more prominent position than before.

A newly built two-story wooden building, its walls painted grayish-white, was rough but much neater than the surrounding crooked shacks.

A brand-new sign hangs at the entrance, with the words "Seven Copper Coins Post Office, Tongmencheng Branch" written neatly in red paint.

But at that moment, the post office was completely surrounded by people.

The city garrison soldiers, dressed in standard armor, lined up in two rows and blocked the entrance to the post office.

Further out, there was a dense crowd of people, including refugees, ordinary people from the city who had come to see the spectacle, and merchants and idlers mixed in with the crowd.

Two groups of people were standing in the open space in front of the post office.

On one side were about twenty knights dressed in luxurious leather armor and with their family crests pinned to their chests.

They held longswords and shields, but their formation had already broken down.

There were six or seven corpses lying on the ground.

Those people were wearing the same standard armor, and the badges on their chests were still gleaming, but they were already lifeless.

The remaining knights gripped their weapons, staring in shock and anger at the woman at the post office entrance.

A blonde woman stood in the doorway.

The slender sword pointed diagonally at the ground, its blade still stained with fresh blood, gleaming a dark red in the morning light.

Her boots were on someone's back.

The man, dressed in a luxurious brocade robe and with a bulky build, was lying face down on the ground.

His face was buried in the mud, and his obese body was trembling uncontrollably.

A sword was held to his neck.

The tip of the rapier was pressed against the back of his neck; with just a slight press, it could pierce his flesh.

Harold, who usually ran rampant in the refugee district and was feared by everyone, was now like a fat worm that had been stepped on, his face covered in snot and tears.

His voice came out muffledly from the soil.

"Spare me...spare me...I was wrong...I'll never do it again..."

His voice trembled, choked with sobs, and his obese body convulsed involuntarily.

A knight commander in full armor roared at Elvia, his voice hoarse, veins bulging on his forehead.

"Do you know who he is? He's the only son of the Rostov family!"

"Release them now if you don't want to die!"

Elvia didn't look at him.

She looked around.

The crowd grew larger and larger.

The refugees peered out from afar, from the tall wooden houses, and from the shacks, standing on tiptoe.

Several well-dressed merchants stood a short distance away, clutching their newly purchased goods, forgetting to leave.

Eileen's figure flashed by through the gaps in the crowd.

She mingled among the refugees, her staff hidden in her wide sleeves, her dark eyes coldly sweeping over everyone around her.

Behind her, several newspaper staff members with projector cameras were excitedly snapping photos.

The camera focused on Harold, who was being trampled on the ground, on Elvia's face, and on the brand-new post office.

Someone was writing quickly, the pen tip scratching across the paper with a soft rustling sound.

Elvia's lips curled up slightly.

She withdrew her gaze, swept it over the angry knights and city guards in front of her, and raised her voice several octaves, carrying a sharp and authoritative tone.

"I also want to ask what you're doing?"

Do you know who I am?

Do you know who owns this post office?

"How dare you bring so many people to attack us?"

"According to the laws of the Alliance, I could execute you all right now and hang you on the city walls!"

Her voice echoed through the city gate, drowning out the surrounding noise.

The city's defense troops were stunned.

The knights were stunned.

The onlookers were also stunned.

Some people opened their mouths, some frowned, and some looked at each other blankly, as if they were digesting the weight of those words.

Then, a voice rang out from the ranks of knights, sharp and sarcastic, carrying a smug satisfaction at having exposed a lie.

"Stop pretending!"

The speaker was one of Harold's attendants, dressed in black leather armor with two daggers hanging at his waist, and with a sinister look in his eyes.

"You think we don't know your story about the transport team is made up?"

"That wandering mage delivering a letter for his sister, that transport team—it's all made up!"

"You're just swindling money from those lowly people!"

"I couldn't find the name of any relevant transport team in the transport association!"

"Besides, what kind of transport team would pay seven copper coins per letter to deliver messages for a lowly commoner? Who are you kidding! I pay a silver coin just to go to the toilet!"

His voice was loud enough for everyone around to hear.

Several onlookers began to whisper among themselves.

"That's right... How could a transport team possibly open a post office in a refugee area..."

"If they really have a transport team backing them up, even if it's Morning Star, the Rostov family wouldn't dare to make a move at this critical juncture, no matter how many times they had the guts."

"This woman doesn't look like... someone who's only at the lower level of the Transcendent Realm. Which transport team would want her?"

But most people did not agree.

Their eyes fell on the sign of the new post office, on the words "Seven Copper Coins Post Office".

Those words were so familiar.

Almost everyone who participated in the selection process recalled that black-haired figure.

On the other side, beneath Elvia's feet.

"Let...let me go..."

Harold's face was still buried in the mud, his voice muffled and choked with sobs.

"You can kill me... but you won't survive either... I have many people behind me..."

"If you let me go... I can plead for you... and get them to let you go too..."

His bulky body trembled slightly at Elvia's feet.

"Put down your knife... Our power is beyond your imagination..."

Elvia glanced down at him.

Then she laughed.

The smile was light, with a nonchalant air that suggested he knew something.

She spoke, her voice not loud, but every name was clearly uttered.

"The Rostov family, the fourth generation of nobles of Bronze Gate City, the head of the family is your father, old Rostov."

"Your mother's backer is the commander of the city's defense forces, who is said to have influence in Dawn City as well."

"Your uncle is the tax officer of the Eastern District."

"Your cousin is a director of the Chamber of Commerce."

Harold's body trembled with each name she uttered.

"Your uncle's adopted son works in Dawn City."

"Your second sister married a viscount from Dawn City."

Elvia recited Harold's entire family history as if reading a family tree.

Then she looked down at Harold's face, which was contorted with fear, and chuckled softly.

Are you referring to these people?

Harold's breath caught in his throat for a moment.

His mouth was open, and the pleading expression on his face was frozen.

He hadn't expected this woman to know so much, even more than he did.

He couldn't utter a single word.

Just then, the sound of rapid hoofbeats came from deep within the city gate.

The sound was muffled and dense, like raindrops hitting a drum.

The crowd automatically parted to both sides, as if cleaved by an invisible knife.

A tall, black horse galloped out of the city gate, with a middle-aged man dressed in dark silver armor riding on its back.

He was tall and burly, with a cold and hard face, a short beard on his chin, and eyes as sharp as an eagle's.

He had a broadsword hanging at his waist, the scabbard of which was engraved with the emblem of the city garrison.

He was followed by a dozen or so riders, all of whom were elite, fully armed city defense troops.

The aura of legend was released without any concealment, like a mountain pressing down on everyone's chest.

The onlookers unconsciously stepped back, and some were almost knocked to the ground, but no one dared to complain.

Elroy, Commander-in-Chief of the City Defense Forces.

He pulled on the reins, the horse pawed at the ground twice, and stopped in the middle of the crowd.

His gaze swept over the corpse on the ground, over Harold who was being trampled underfoot, and finally landed on Elvia.

His eyes were cold.

Beside him, a follower dressed in black leather armor quickly stepped forward, bowed, and spoke in a sharp and excited voice.

"Sir! It's this woman! She's impersonating a member of the transport team, swindling people in the refugee area!"

"She also injured young Master Harold! And killed several of our brothers!"

"My lord! You must do justice for young Master Harold!"

Elroy did not speak.

His gaze remained fixed on Elvia, like a blunt knife slowly scraping across her face.

Then he spoke, his voice deep and carrying an unquestionable authority.

"Let him go."

Elvia did not move.

She didn't even look at him.

Elroy frowned slightly, and his voice deepened.

"Impersonating a transport team, they illegally opened a post office in the refugee area, disrupting the order of the city."

"He committed murder in public, killed noble guards, and kidnapped noble children."

"According to the laws of the Union, the above crimes are punishable by hanging."

He paused for a moment.

"If you let him go now, I might still leave you with a whole corpse."

As soon as he finished speaking, the city guards and knights around him stepped forward in unison, their footsteps sounding as uniform as iron hammers striking stone slabs.

The onlookers shrank back, and some began to back away.

The newspaper staff were still holding projector cameras, their eyes practically brimming with excitement.

Elvia remained standing in the same spot.

She didn't lower her sword, nor did she even back away.

She looked at Elroy, a cold smile slowly spreading across her lips.

"Since Lord Elroy is so familiar with the laws of the Alliance..."

Her voice was very soft, but everyone could hear it clearly.

"Then can you tell me, what crime is it to lay a hand on members of the Blazing Sun Transport Team?"

"You good nephew, you just barged in with a knife and your men without saying a word, intending to kill me."

"According to the laws of the Alliance, I can not only kill him, but I can also send you to the gallows for allowing him to take his knights to fight."

"Aren't you right, Lord Elroy?"