She seemed to adapt quickly; after a walk on the battlefield, her entire demeanor changed somewhat. If not for her lips still slightly pale, one might not guess she had just been vomiting.

"If I hadn't sent scouts and found out early, if we didn't have elite soldiers, they'd have been pillaging in Hamlet by now; why can't they capture them?"

Margaret frowned upon hearing this, lost in thought for a moment before speaking.

"I mean, those nobility are certainly vile, but most of the people in those caravans are innocent, right..."

Lance understood her point. After all, the massacre of the village was done by Michelle and the Personal Guard. The caravan people and the city defense force were just being used as labor along the way, did nothing, and were slaughtered by the Barbarian Plunderers.

And now they were taken away like pigs. In Margaret's view, they hadn't done anything, making Lance's actions seem unreasonable.

"Did they really do nothing? They just didn't have the chance. You're aware of what the city defense force is like. Besides, I didn't say to kill them, only to investigate them. When it's confirmed they're clear, they'll naturally be released."

Lance's words were blatantly perfunctory; when the investigation is completed is naturally up to him.

But in truth, he didn't want to kill them since there's no machinery now, and wilderness development is done with people's lives; capturing people for labor isn't bad.

Don't talk to Lance about benevolence and morality; he lacks such things.

For Dismas, the goal is revenge, while Lance is truly driven by profit. Otherwise, he wouldn't start a war without reason.

Whether they're accomplices or victims, Lance couldn't care less.

In the adult world, there's no justice; only interests.

And at this moment, as if sensing something, Lance suddenly exclaimed.

"Found it!"

"Found what?" Margaret felt confused, but Lance had no intention of indulging her further.

"We'll talk about it later. You're tired, have a good rest."

With these words, he raised his hand to collect the Wax Puppet and hurriedly ran off, giving Margaret no time to respond.

No matter how Margaret felt, it was something she had to learn to accept. No matter how naive, one would grow upon facing reality.

......

Don't think the Personal Guard is just a pushover. Initially, there were only about ten Barbarian warriors who escaped from the village traps, but due to successive battles, a few more fell. Now, less than ten remain.

However, what these people pursued was this; they only hoped to kill more enemies in order to erase their humiliation.

Those remaining continued to move through the wilderness, using the dense forest to constantly spy on the caravan ahead, waiting for a new opportunity.

Suddenly, as if sensing something, the archer abruptly raised his head and, with almost no hesitation, exclaimed.

"Something's wrong, move!"

It seemed the other members of the Barbarian squad also sensed something and decisively dashed into the woods, distancing themselves from the caravan on the old road.

They couldn't gamble at all now; once surrounded, it meant certain death.

Shortly after they moved away, numerous hurried figures appeared in the forest, drawing the attention of those Barbarians.

"They don't seem to be coming for us."

"Not those nobles' trusted aides."

"What's going on here?"

"Let's go take a look."

Barbarians are certainly bold; upon realizing the newcomers weren't targeting them, they dared to turn back to investigate.

It's easy to understand; besides them, there was only the caravan on the old road.

If not targeting themselves, then it must be the other side.

If they both fought to exhaustion, these remaining ones might have a chance for revenge.

On the battlefield, to triumph over the strong with the weak, one must grab the opportunity; without courage, what could be grabbed?

Soon, a gunshot signaled the start of the battle.

It should be known that they had fought these soldiers before, all were seasoned veterans. Otherwise, they wouldn't dare engage in close combat, where casualties were almost evenly matched.

But now, these Barbarians witnessed the nobility's trusted aides who slaughtered their companions fall like grass.

This scene held a unique shock for these Barbarians, evoking a sense of pity for the fallen soldiers despite their enemy's stance.

For the Barbarians, dying without even encountering the enemy is surely the most humiliating type of death.

Then both sides clashed; the remaining trusted aides, with blood, fought for opportunities but were suppressed by musketeers outnumbering them.

These Barbarians felt hollow inside, carrying a certain regretful sentiment.

Not because their sympathy overflowed, but because the caravan was penetrated so easily, they didn't see the imagined scenario of mutual exhaustion and then taking over the battlefield.

A stronger army appeared, taking control, shattering their illusions.

"What now?"

The Barbarians turned their gaze to the archer, who initially proposed the pursuit. Now, clearly, the situation rendered it unnecessary.

"Let's go; we've killed enemies. Even returning to the tribe, there's an explanation." The archer felt helpless; why did these Imperial People kill their own so brutally, giving no chance at all.

But just as they were about to leave, the archer suddenly noticed a hawk perched on a branch far behind them, watching them.

He exclaimed in shock.

"Eagle Flock!"

The remaining Barbarian warriors exploded inwardly; they watched the battle below, but someone was watching them - another layer of betrayal.

"Scatter and flee!"

In the friction between Barbarians and Bastia, Eagle Flock, these traitors, caused the deepest harm.

Without the Mountains-familiar Eagle Flock's help, Bastia wouldn't have suppressed the Barbarians so easily; hence, all Barbarians inherently despised them.

Appearing here now - were the previous soldiers Bastia's?

The Barbarians who realized this tightened their weapons and, without hesitation, scattered.

Eagle Flock isn't the problem; what's crucial is the army often trailing behind Eagle Flock. Seeing the one-sided massacre earlier, why would they stay around?

The archer also fled, an arrow nocked in hand but not rashly shot.

His large bow couldn't match Eagle Flock's light bow in shooting speed, a single chance only.

However, before he got far, the hawk spread its wings, followed by sounds from the forest as someone rushed out wielding an Axe Spear.

Undoubtedly, it was the recovered Boudica.

Eagle Flock is easily recognizable; just Boudica's appearance declares she isn't one.

But the archer didn't hesitate, pulling back his bow to shoot an arrow at her, without caring if it hit as he turned and ran the other way.

He understood the consequences of being stalled...

But before he could think further, he suddenly halted forcibly, the next moment an arrow stuck into the ground before him.

It was indeed Eagle Flock's sneak attack!

With lightning speed, the archer shot an arrow back in that direction but dared not linger; after a few steps, he heard roaring behind him.

In that short hurried shot, the shooting speed was unmatched, but without fully drawing the bow, the Feather Arrow power seemed flimsy.

Just like firing fast but the bullet has low initial speed.

Just now, over twenty-thirty yards away, Boudica wasn't a wooden dummy; of course, she dodged and charged.

Hearing the commotion behind him when he glanced around to see the vanished others, the archer couldn't help feeling aggrieved; why so many others weren't chased, only him?

Fortunately, he hadn't given up, a third arrow now nocked.

But unfortunately, this arrow would go unshot as he felt vibrations underfoot, distracting him slightly, and roots shot up from the ground, ensnaring him...