Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 161: Her Revenge

Chapter 161: Her Revenge

When the bandits saw the young man’s remarkable prowess, their bravado faltered, and they instinctively recoiled. Shadows of doubt flickered across their faces as they weighed their options, each calculating the best strategy to confront this formidable opponent. The tension in the air grew thick as they exchanged wary glances, their minds racing to devise a plan that could match the fire and skill they had just witnessed.

Then, with a collective roar, six of them lunged—like wolves descending on a cornered lioness. Their blades gleamed under the sun as they moved in perfect unison, eyes narrowed with grim resolve as they tried to corner the young man.

Meanwhile, the leader—a calculating figure whose eyes sparkled with cunning intelligence—slipped away from the chaos and crept around the back of the carriage. Ivy, breathless and concealed in the shadows, held her position, unaware of the peril that lurked just behind her.

She sat huddled in the lush green patches of grass, her body trembling like a fragile leaf caught in a sudden gust of wind. Her arms clasped tightly around her knees, the weight of fear pressing against her chest.

And then—a sudden lurch.

In an instant, a powerful grip seized the fabric of her clothes, lifting her slightly off the ground. Before she could muster a scream, a large, rough hand enveloped her mouth, silencing her in a rush of panic.

Meanwhile, Lara danced through the chaos. She disarmed two bandits in swift, fluid motions, snatching their swords before their bodies even hit the dirt. Armed with superior weapons, she carved through the ranks of mercenaries and bandits like a flame through dry straw. But no matter how good Lara was, numbers were still not on her side.

Two men thrust at her in tandem, but Lara twisted between them. Their swords met each other, severing their own limbs in a grotesque burst of red. Screams pierced the air.

But Lara was slowing down. Her breath came hard and fast, her movements losing their sharp edge. She was strong, but not invincible. Ten trained fighters—the traffickers’ elite escort—were closing in. Even she had limits.

Then, a voice filled with fury tore through the clash of steel, slicing through the tension in the air like a knife.

"If you want the girl to live, lay down your weapon."

Lara froze. Her heart lurched.

Ivy.

She had forgotten about the little girl. Where the heck was Percival? Where was her master when she needed him the most?

Reluctantly, she let the sword fall from her grip. The blade hit the ground with a hollow clatter that echoed in her bones.

"The knife, too." The leader’s voice slithered through the air as he pressed a blade against Ivy’s throat. A tiny gasp escaped the girl as a drop of blood trickled from the cut—red against pale skin.

Lara didn’t hesitate. She tossed the knife to his feet, suppressing the scream of frustration building in her chest. She could’ve made a move, but in her exhausted state, even her speed couldn’t guarantee Ivy’s safety. The risk was too great.

The leader nodded once, and one of his men retrieved the weapons.

"Let the girl, go. It is me you want." Lara said, but her voice was no longer her own. It rolled with Kane’s commanding growl, rich with power and darkness. The words echoed like a storm rolling over the hills.

The bandit’s lip curled in contempt.

"Do you think I’m stupid?" he snapped. Another gesture, and two men approached her with rope. "Tie him up. One wrong move, and the girl dies."

Lara’s gaze turned steely, a storm brewing in her honey-like brown eyes. Her heart sank as the weight of her father’s words echoed in her mind, each syllable sharp and piercing. He had warned her time and again, his voice a gravelly whisper in her ear:

’Never reveal your vulnerability, Lara. If you have a weakness, never show it to your enemy. Because once you did, that would be your death, your downfall.’

Earlier, she wanted to wear a mask of indifference toward Ivy, feigning that she did not care about her life and death. But such apathy could leave lasting scars on the fragile little girl’s heart. What if her gamble backfired, and the leader saw through her façade, refusing to be swayed by her empty bravado? The thought sent a shiver down her spine; the stakes were too high, and she couldn’t afford even the smallest miscalculation.

She couldn’t gamble with Ivy’s life.

Tears were streaming down Ivy’s cheeks, her wide, fearful eyes betraying the turmoil within her. Her heart raced as she witnessed two hulking men forcefully binding her sister Lara with coarse ropes, their hands rough and unyielding. A wave of guilt washed over her; she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all her fault.

If she was not caught, then her sister Lara would not have been threatened. Ivy stifled a sob.

Lara, despite the chaos around her, managed to catch Ivy’s gaze. The strength in her eyes conveyed a silent message, one of reassurance and comfort. With a soft, determined movement of her lips, Lara mouthed the words, "It’s okay. Don’t be scared." The warmth of that connection momentarily pierced through Ivy’s fear.

And somehow, against all odds, it worked. A flicker of calm returned to Ivy’s eyes, just as a bandit lifted her up and began carrying her toward the carriages.

Lara did not worry much. She knew that Percival must be nearby and just waiting for the opportunity to strike.

And sure enough, a shadow shifted behind the bushes. Subtle and swift. Closing in on the carriage with Ivy.

The remaining mercenaries formed a circle around Lara. One of them—the man whose shirt she’d sliced through earlier—stepped forward, hatred carved deep into every line of his face. He threw a punch.

She ducked. Easily.

They had bound her arms, yes—but her legs were still free.

She had no intention of being anyone’s punching bag. Not today. Not when her body still ached from the coils of that monstrous snake. Not when she needed every ounce of strength to survive what came next.