A fantastical journey across the heavens, beginning with the Witcher.

Before the bandit-suppression army was about to depart, Sal and Lambert had their usual argument.

The content is simply that the former demands the latter: restrain the army and prevent it from behaving like bandits.

The latter replied to the former: You're nobody! My uncle is the mayor!

After their unpleasant parting, Sal continued his patrol, while Lambert, riding his tall horse, set off in high spirits.

They hadn't gone far outside the city when the group scattered into a mess. Forget about marching in formation, some thugs even found the cloaks too hot, so they half-torn and half-pulled them off, sticking them on the tips of their spears to reveal the bright plate armor underneath.

Several close associates simply broke away from the group and awkwardly sandwiched their warhorses between them.

If a general skilled in leading troops were here, he would surely be so angry he would vomit blood.

Infantry commanders rode horses to broaden their field of vision and to make it easier to escape quickly in case of danger. However, Lambert was sandwiched between his subordinates, making him a sitting duck.

Looking at the other soldiers with their arms around each other, they didn't look like an army going out to suppress bandits at all; they looked more like a group of friends going out for drinks.

Lambert, far from being humiliated, took pride in it and shouted from his horse, "What is Sal? A mere city guard captain, does he really think he's someone important?"

The henchman chimed in, "That's right, that's right."

"His father, who was the mayor, has been dead for years, but he still thinks he's some kind of pampered young master whom everyone respects and fears!"

"If you hadn't stopped me, I would have found an excuse to kill him long ago."

"He always has a long face, like everyone owes him kronor. It's so much better to have an older brother."

Overjoyed by the praise from his underlings, Lambert felt as if he were floating on air, and the saddle beneath him felt as soft as cotton.

……

After marching for half a day, the entire army, except for the general on horseback, was exhausted. Their "ambition" before leaving the city had completely vanished.

The soldiers were either complaining about sore legs and feet or bad weather.

Lambert wasn't much better off. He usually rode girls from brothels. After sitting on a horse for half a day, his thighs were chafed and sore. If he didn't care about his reputation, he would have been groaning like his underlings.

Finally, after marching for three hours, the team officially set up camp by the roadside.

It was called setting up camp, but in reality, a group of people took a few blankets from the supply wagons, spread them on the grass by the roadside, and then planted two cow burger flags.

There were no scouts, no patrols... they just lay openly by the roadside, drinking beer and eating dry rations.

The two men, who found the armor too heavy, even took off their upper armor and threw it into the carriage, covering themselves with a robe instead. It was unclear whether this cotton robe could stop arrows or block swords and spears.

In fact, half of the team consisted of veterans bribed by the mayor to protect his nephew in case they encountered bandits, but they dared not disobey Lambert's orders.

An old soldier wanted to offer advice, but his friend stopped him and whispered something in his ear.

"Don't say anything. Do you really think they're going to suppress bandits? That's just an excuse to make money. Let's just follow them obediently and protect the mayor's nephew. As long as he's safe, that's all that matters."

So the veterans followed suit and began to trim Lambert's clothes.

Seeing this, Li De's lips twitched.

"What a bunch of talented people! At this marching speed, they probably won't even reach Tuomaling in two days."

Fortunately, he realized halfway through that if these thugs had run into trouble and been intercepted by the monster, all his meticulous planning would have been for nothing.

Therefore, they simply cleared a path not far in front of the bandit-suppressing army.

He quietly dealt with more than a dozen monsters ahead, and after waiting for a long time without anyone following, he rode his horse along the road to take a look.

Damn it! These bastards have actually set up camp and are resting!

So he's here to be a babysitter?!

Fortunately, the group of ruffians were still eyeing the lucrative deal with the packhorse handlers, so after lying down for two hours, they got up and continued their march.

By noon the next day, the reinforcements from Niubao finally arrived at the packhorse territory they had been longing for.

The soldier who knew the way pointed into the distance and shouted excitedly.

"Boss! The packhorse territory is just ahead!"

"Finally here." Lambert rubbed his thigh and grinned. "Brothers, let's grab a drink at the tavern first, then squeeze some bounty out of that damn lord! Get a good rest tonight, and tomorrow we'll show these lowly bastards what 'bandit suppression' really means!"

"It's still better to stick with the boss. What a piece of crap Thrall, all he does is get in the way of us brothers having fun."

A few thugs started making a fuss nearby.

Lambert said triumphantly, "Haha! That kid won't be able to keep jumping around for long. When I come back from this bandit suppression, my uncle will naturally reward us. We'll figure out a way to get rid of him then. I'll be the captain, and you'll all be the heads of the patrol teams."

"The boss is brilliant!"

"Um."

"Boss is awesome!"

"Um."

"Our leader is awesome!"

"Um."

"Boss, you're an idiot!"

"Uh-huh?"

Normally, he would just grunt in response to his underlings' compliments, but when he suddenly heard an insult, he nodded without even realizing it.

After regaining his senses, he immediately flew into a rage: "Which bastard said that?"

"Your grandfather told me!"

As soon as he finished speaking, a dark figure rushed out from the woods by the roadside and plunged into the group in the blink of an eye.

bass!

The sharp clang of a longsword being drawn rang out.

Almost simultaneously, a bright yellow sword flashed by, and two fine heads fell to the ground.

The foul-smelling blood gushed upwards from the severed neck like a small fountain.

It wasn't until blood dripped onto their faces that the group realized they had been attacked!

Having bullied men and women for years, the thugs had a certain air of authority. Even after their comrades died, their morale did not immediately collapse; instead, they raised their weapons to fight back.

The disorganized ranks were disorganized, with shield bearers scattered at the back and spearmen at the front, and the general had even forgotten how to give orders.

The veterans instinctively stood in front of Lambert's horse, with swords and shields in front and spears behind. A soldier wielding a large hammer stood in the middle, his eyes fixed on the enemy in the encirclement.

"die!"

One of the thugs spoke first, raising the long spear he was carrying on his shoulder and slashing it down. The other thugs followed suit, thrusting or slamming their spears down. Relying on their numerical advantage, they actually managed to create some momentum.

The witcher, surrounded in the middle, chuckled instead.

"laugh…"

Although the voice was soft, it could not conceal the contempt it contained.

The intimidating power of the spear lies in its distance. The group of thugs had neither shield bearers to form a spear formation nor any spear flourishes to confuse the enemy. They simply slashed or thrust straight at each other.

They might be somewhat useful against ordinary people, but now their opponents are witchers, the ruthless kind.

Li De spun to the side to dodge the thrust, raising his steel sword high to block the middle of the spear.

*Clang...* The wooden pole struck the sword blade and snapped in two.

The thug who had been wielding the spear widened his eyes, but before he could say anything, Li De spun around again, his steel sword sweeping across, and another head flew high into the air.

The veterans swallowed hard, their hands gripping their weapons feeling slippery.

One of the veterans suddenly exclaimed, "The Witcher?!"

He recognized the two longswords and the armor.

Li De quickly glanced back at him, then continued his killing spree without a second thought.

The steel sword danced nimbly around him, either deflecting spear tips or severing spear shafts. The remaining seven thugs surrounded the Witcher, shouting and attacking for over ten seconds, but not only did they fail to inflict any damage, they also had three of them killed when the Witcher seized the opportunity to counterattack.

Lambert, who was on the horse, finally realized: "It's you!"

"Damn bastard! Stop it! We're not enemies! My uncle is the mayor of Bullburg; he even gave you a reward!"

The silly kid thought this was a beef burger shop, and that bringing out the backstage would be useful.

Unexpectedly, the witcher remained unmoved and suddenly switched from defense to offense. As he spun around, he stopped defending and his bright yellow sword flashed as if killing chickens, easily wiping out the soldiers and thugs surrounding him.

grunt.

Lambert felt his mouth was a little dry. When those golden cat eyes were staring at him, he didn't even have the courage to grip the hilt of his sword. Instead, he turned and rode away!

Li De whistled, and the coal ball that had been waiting suddenly shot out from the side of the road and crashed solidly into the fleeing warhorse.

Alas, how glorious...

The warhorse, losing its balance, neighed and collapsed.

Lambert was thrown around and was completely disoriented. Before the dizziness subsided, a sharp pain shot through his thigh, which was caused by his femur being broken by the horse.

"Ah! Help me!"

However, no one came to his rescue. The few remaining veterans were staring intently at the Witcher, sweat dripping into their eyes without them daring to blink.

The imposing veteran leader picked up his warhammer, his face ashen: "Looks like there's no way to negotiate?"

"You should say that to those he killed. Now you only have one choice—to be killed by me, or to commit suicide."

With a light, graceful movement, Li De twirled his sword, flicked away the bloodstains, and smiled. "I recommend you choose the former. Ending your own life is difficult, but my sword is fast."

Undeterred, the veteran continued, "He has a title, and his uncle is the mayor..."

"Stop."

Li De interrupted the conversation, "I don't want to argue with you about things like the lives of commoners aren't worth anything, or the lives of nobles are worth a fortune."

"To me, his life, your lives, and the lives of ordinary people are all the same."