Bear School Astartes
Chapter 50. Kill all the people who want to harm me.

Chapter 50: 50. Kill all the people who want to harm me.

The sound of horse steps and movements were not light, and although this small camp looked unguarded, on the land of Velen, anyone in the wild without guards had already turned into manure.

"Who’s there?"

First came the sound of metal clashing, then a spear extended out from the tent.

At first, it was laid flat, but once the spear’s blade emerged from the tent, it stood upright.

Following it was a soldier who was struggling to adjust his helmet.

His face was dark, but it wasn’t due to skin color or labor.

From Lann’s first glance, he had the answer; it was a layer of black grime formed by a mix of unwashed dust, sweat, and grease.

His untidy beard lacked grooming, by which time Lann had already led Bopai close by.

With a glance inside the tent, there were two more soldiers sprawled out as they tried to get up holding onto storage boxes.

The black-faced soldier, who first spoke, started to grow impatient and repeated his question.

"In the name of Sir Viserad! Stranger, tell me who you are and what you’re here for?"

Lann lowered his eyelids, didn’t answer, and instead asked a question in return.

"Viserad? You are loyal to the Lord of Velen?"

"Boom boom, isn’t it obvious?"

The black-faced soldier knocked on the Temerian White Lily emblem on his chest armor, looking self-assured.

To call that piece of armor "chest armor" was a bit of a stretch.

Unlike the soldiers under Philip Strong, those veteran soldiers from the battlefield mostly wore complete sets of Temerian standard armor. (Image to follow)

Though not high-grade, they had mail undershirts, large plates of armor on the torso, and steel guards on their limbs and knees, forming a complete set of armor.

But the armor of the soldier before him was just a worn-out cotton base with a curved iron plate barely covering the stomach area.

The quality of that cotton armor was not even as good as Lann’s starting gear.

Comparing it to standard armor was out of the question.

Lann quickly raised his eyes before lowering them again.

At least the emblem was correct.

The young man understood why Viserad’s soldiers appeared here.

Philip Strong’s professional soldier squad under Viserad was like an elite unit.

Yet, a lord would need more than an elite squad to maintain control over the land.

A large number of "trash soldiers" like the one before them was the lord’s reach to rule Velen.

Setting up posts in various villages, each only needed three to four people, then rotating and supplying them consistently.

The team, comprising probably hundreds or thousands of such soldiers, was Viserad’s largest force.

They didn’t need to be strong, skilled, or brave, but their existence represented Viserad’s steady rule over Velen.

Honestly, these guys might visit Crow’s Nest four or five times in their lifetime?

Far different from Philip’s professional soldiers who could dine and live with the lord.

The dormitory at Crow’s Nest Castle was for the use of professional soldiers.

"I’m just a passerby, officer. I mean no harm but a child of mine went missing around here, have you seen him?"

Lann didn’t want them to see his eyes, as racial prejudice might unnecessarily complicate the conversation.

The black-faced soldier absentmindedly looked at the two swords on Lann’s back, fiddling with the spear’s pole against the ground, grasped in his arms.

The other two soldiers, equipped with swords and shields, stood behind him.

In these circumstances, the black-faced soldier seemed to relax.

"A child? Never seen one. Other than farmers planting flowers, who else is here? Pfft—"

He turned his head and spat thick phlegm.

"You’re really crazy to come here looking for a child."

"...Perhaps, goodbye."

Lann nodded indifferently, ready to turn and leave.

White’s golden forty-eight hours were passing by every minute, he had no time to waste.

But as Lann was about to lead Bopai and turn away, the black-faced soldier’s voice rang out again.

"Hold on..."

Lann partially lifted his eyelids.

How could one describe the black-faced soldier’s tone?

With a hint of a smile, yet this smile was far from friendly, rather a mocking laugh.

The malice was undisguised, seeping over like thick black mud.

A hard, sharp object pressed against his back.

That was the blade of the spear.

"Hey, passerby. We’re soldiers under Sir Viserad, do you know how much effort we’ve put in to protect Velen?"

"Walking, earning a living, thriving on this land... don’t you think you should be grateful to us? Hmm?"

The spear blade nudged slightly at Lann’s back as if to negotiate.

But the young Demon Hunter knew that if he refused to "negotiate," the next time it would not be a mere "nudge."

Behind the black-faced soldier, the two sword and shield soldiers seemed amused by Lann’s motionless stance and laughed unrestrainedly.

This joy from unbridled bullying and holding a position of power in violent acts naturally influenced the spear-holding black-faced soldier.

His spear’s blade edged a few inches forward.

Lann, with his back to the three, took a deep breath.

He didn’t want to cause trouble.

I don’t want to right now.

White could die at any moment, if he doesn’t die, he might be sold off. If you don’t want to lose him, you must seize every minute and second!

At this already very tense moment, you shouldn’t get into a confrontation with the lord’s men.

Most importantly—Lann wants to control himself.

Try not to get angry, try to restrain his anxiety and anger, these emotions will only ruin things, ruin things...

"Inhale-exhale-"

The sound of breathing seemed more cowardly and panicked to the black-faced soldier behind.

Lann reached into the saddlebag on Bopai’s back. He handed a package to the person behind him.

"Officer, you’re right. You all worked hard. There’s two roast chickens, a jar of berries and raspberries, a few pieces of bread inside. Consider it a meal from me, take it."

The black-faced soldier chuckled, and the sword and shield soldier next to him reached out and snatched the package from Lann’s hand.

Upon opening it, he inhaled deeply with delight.

"Woohoo! Fresh roast chicken and fruit! I’m sick of the damn salted meat."

Lann ignored the noise behind him. He raised his hands and slowly turned to face the three men.

"Officer, can I leave now? I still need to find the child."

But he did not see a satisfied expression on the disgusting black face. Instead, greed was surging.

The blade of the halberd pressed against his chest again, this time the black face pushed it even further forward.

He tilted his head towards Bopai’s back.

"Continue!"

"Continue to pull out!"

Lann licked his lips and said nothing.

Change of clothes, dried fish, a water bladder containing wine... these things were handed over to the three men.

The three soldiers joyfully and excitedly flipped through their treasures, smiling broadly.

Lann calmly said, "Can I leave now?"

The three men lifted their heads from their joy and simultaneously sneered at Lann contemptuously.

In the intense mockery and disdain, their greedy eyes turned back to Lann.

The black-faced soldier raised the halberd again, as if it were the most intimidating weapon in the world.

"Sword, purse, armor, take them all off!"

The voice was more confident than it was seconds ago.

Lann slowly exhaled, but did not move.

The black-faced soldier, seeing Lann not yielding, seemed greatly insulted and prepared to push the halberd blade against Lann’s chest again.

"I told you to take it off! Are you deaf?"

Lann pressed his lips and twisted his neck. His hands, which had been raised, were lowered, coldly looking at the other party.

"Deaf, you motherf***er!"

The black-faced soldier was furious! This was truly an insult.

He immediately pushed the halberd to punch a hole in Lann’s chest.

But a purple magic light flashed, and a circle of Magic Runes suddenly appeared on the ground.

The black-faced soldier should have been able to advance a few inches to pierce Lann’s heart and lungs, usually requiring no more than a moment’s motion, but now inexplicably consumed a long time.

Yarden Magic Seal, a range-based slow trap.

The enemy’s delayed movement provided ample reaction time.

Lann pressed his lips and pushed away the halberd blade with one hand while immediately closing in!

"Boom!!!"

A fist wearing a studded leather glove! Smashed right into the center of the black face!

The jawbone deformed under immense force, twisted and shattered. Teeth flew out one by one.

The fleshy facial features were forcefully squeezed into a heap by the fist!

No screams, the scream was pressed down the throat by that punch!

The black-faced soldier, standing at one meter sixty-seven tall, almost instantly lost his height and was smashed down to the ground by the fist!

The back of his head happened to hit a stone, red and white sprayed out, staining the area.

Then, in this bloody drawing, Lann slowly raised his head, blood-stained at the corners of his eyes.

Those cat-like eyes looked at the two sword and shield soldiers who were already dumbstruck.

Pulled out the fist stuck in the face...

Two minutes later, Lann’s blood-covered hand was tidied up again.

"You lost control just now, sir."

Mentos spoke up in his mind.

And Lann calmly admitted it.

"Yes, I lost control."

"Do you need me to make a new plan? I’m worried you’ll be unable to keep your composure facing unexpected situations."

"No, there’s no need, Mentos."

The young man’s tone was flat.

"Losing control is losing control, anyway, the upcoming plan has only one item left..."

"Kill everyone who tries to cut me."

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