Lord blessed by the elves

Chapter 66 Seventy-three

Kruze glanced at the knights and squires beside him. They were clearly used to this rough life, and changed their clothes with normal expressions, showing no discomfort whatsoever.

He could only helplessly tug at his rough, prickly collar, saying nothing more, accepting it as a necessary but uncomfortable experience.

With their disguises complete, the group continued their journey deeper into the forest.

Along the way, they encountered several groups of refugees who were also active in the forest.

Most of these people were sallow and thin, but their eyes were as wary as those of frightened wild beasts. They held simple weapons tightly in their hands—sharpened wooden sticks, rusty machetes, and even wooden clubs tied with stones.

When they met, there was no friendly greeting between them. Instead, they instinctively and quickly distanced themselves, eyeing each other warily.

In this lawless land, survival is the only law.

No one can guarantee that these seemingly pitiful refugees won't turn into ruthless bandits at any moment, launching an attack to seize a meager amount of supplies.

A silent tension and suspicion filled the air.

Upon seeing this, Cooper immediately raised the rusty but gleaming scythe in his hand high and swung it a few times at the other refugees who were faintly visible around him, making a whooshing sound as it cut through the air.

“Young Master,” he explained in a low voice to Kruze, “this is a warning to them that we are not to be trifled with, that we have weapons, and that those fools should think twice before taking us for granted.”

Upon hearing this explanation, Kruze's lips twitched slightly, and he wanted to complain inwardly: Isn't this just reminding others that we don't have many people here, but our equipment seems to be pretty good, which makes us even more attractive to bandits?

After all, their team only has about ten people at most.

As expected, things unfolded exactly as Kruse had predicted.

Not long after, in front of a relatively sparsely wooded slope, a group of about thirty refugees emerged from the woods on the side and blocked their way without saying a word.

Most of these people had fierce expressions, and although their weapons were simple, they gleamed with a cold light from frequent use. They silently spread out, forming a semi-encirclement, and their unfriendly eyes swept back and forth over Kruze and his group, clearly assessing the value of their prey.

Kruze's lips twitched slightly, and he was about to speak when Wilstone suddenly took a half step closer without being noticed, and warned in a very low voice, "Young Master, be careful. The burly man with the scar on his face leading the way has a condensed and undissipated fighting spirit; he's a genuine Bronze Knight."

Upon hearing this, Kruse's eyes flashed with surprise and intense interest.

A bronze knight is a formidable fighter anywhere and is fully qualified to be a formal follower of any nobleman, enjoying a stable salary and respect. There is absolutely no need for him to wander the mountains and wilderness with these refugees, living a precarious life.

He glanced at Cooper beside him, who immediately understood, took a deep breath, stepped forward, held the sickle horizontally in front of him, and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Hey! Which mountain are you from? Blocking the road and looking for trouble? State your names!" There was a slight commotion among the group of refugees opposite, but they did not make a move immediately.

The scarred, burly man at the head of the group pushed aside the two men in front of him and stepped out.

He was tall and muscular, and despite his tattered clothes, his calm and composed aura befitting a knight was undeniable. His sharp gaze swept over Cooper, finally settling on Kruze and Wilstone, who were subtly protected in the center by the others, as if he had sensed something unusual.

"Looking for trouble?" The scarred, burly man's voice was hoarse yet carried a sense of oppression. "When did this path in the woods become your property? We're just passing by." Although he said this, the thirty-odd people behind him showed no intention of making way; instead, they subtly formed a circle around him.

Following Kruse's prior instructions, Cooper did not back down. Instead, he deliberately brandished the scythe in his hand and responded in a tough tone: "Passing by? Hmph, judging from your posture, it's not as simple as just passing by! If you know what's good for you, get out of the way, or don't blame us for being impolite!"

"You're welcome?" A tall, thin man next to the scarred, burly man chuckled, brandishing a wooden club studded with iron nails. "Just the few of you? Leave your food and valuables, and maybe we'll spare your lives!"

Wilstone stepped forward slightly, seemingly casually standing to the side and slightly in front of Kruse. This subtle movement caused the scarred, burly man opposite him to slightly shrink his pupils, clearly sensing the faint yet unfathomable pressure emanating from Wilstone.

The scarred, burly man raised a hand to silence his agitated subordinates, his gaze fixed on Wilston, and said in a deep voice, "You... don't seem like ordinary vagrants. Where did you come from? What do you want?"

Kruse knew that the other party had become suspicious.

This encounter has transformed from a simple robbery into a delicate standoff filled with probing.

Kruze smiled slightly and said, "We raided a knight's territory a while ago and stole a lot of things. This time we're here to find some manpower to go back and pull off a big heist. I see you're quite capable. Are you interested in bringing your men? We'll split the profits 70/30."

The scarred, burly man shook his head. "Sorry, attacking nobles is too risky."

Noble territories are not only home to castle knights; their weapons are also very sophisticated. Once a castle is occupied, even if the number of knights is several times greater, they will not be able to conquer it.

Upon hearing this, Kruse was not disappointed at all; instead, a meaningful smile appeared on his face. He deliberately lowered his voice, as if sharing a huge secret:

“Greater risks mean greater rewards. Who said we were going to storm the castle?” He glanced at the scarred, burly man and the emaciated, yet fierce-looking refugees behind him, his tone full of seductive charm. “We succeeded a while ago by working together from the inside and outside, catching them off guard. That foolish knight was out hunting refugees with most of his men at the time, leaving the castle quite empty.”

He paused, observing the subtle changes in the other party's expression, and continued to cast the bait: "I have accurate intelligence on another target. They recently harvested a large amount of grain and are preparing to store it. Their defenses? They're even more lax than the one we raided last time. As long as we act quickly enough, we can succeed before they can react, and then we can make our way to the finish line with the spoils."

“Seventy-three split, I keep my word.” Kruze pointed to himself, then to the scarred giant and his group. “We take seven, and you all take three. That’s enough for all of you to hide peacefully for a whole year, or even bribe your way into a new identity and start a new life in another county. Isn’t that much better than what you’re doing now, risking being eaten by monsters and besieged by other nobles, robbing a few passing travelers here?”

(End of this chapter)