Chapter 84: The Shocked Survivors & The Unspoken Mystery

The mountain road had been transformed into a slaughterhouse.

Broken weapons lay scattered across the dirt, their shattered blades reflecting the cold violet moonlight. Cracked pieces of armor were half-buried beneath the dust, while the motionless bodies of the Red-Sash Bandits littered the road.

A few drops of blood trickled between the stones, slowly disappearing into the thirsty earth.

The battle was over.

Yet nobody moved.

The surviving villagers stood frozen in place, their faces pale and their eyes wide with disbelief. Some still clutched their weapons, their fingers trembling so badly that they could barely maintain their grip.

Only moments ago, they had been staring death in the face.

The Red-Sash Bandits had surrounded them with overwhelming numbers. Their weapons had gleamed beneath the moonlight, and their cruel laughter had echoed through the mountain pass. The villagers had already accepted that they might never see another sunrise.

Then Arthur had stepped forward.

And everything had changed.

The enormous man had torn through the bandits with nothing but his bare hands. Weapons had shattered against his body, cultivators had been thrown aside like rag dolls, and the terrifying enemies who had once seemed invincible now lay scattered across the road.

It was difficult to believe that the same man was now standing quietly among the corpses.

There was no excitement on his face.

No pride.

Not even the slightest trace of exhaustion.

Arthur looked as though he had merely finished an ordinary task.

The silence stretched on.

A cold wind swept through the mountain pass, carrying the metallic smell of blood toward the distant wilderness.

Finally, Garris moved.

He had been standing near one of the damaged carriages, staring at Arthur as though he were looking at something that shouldn’t exist.

His legs felt strangely weak.

He took one step, then another, slowly making his way toward the giant. At one point, his foot caught against a broken weapon, nearly sending him tumbling into the dirt.

He barely noticed.

His attention remained fixed on Arthur.

When Garris finally stopped a few steps away, he had to tilt his head back to meet the enormous man’s gaze.

For several seconds, he struggled to speak.

"Arthur..."

His voice came out rough and uncertain.

Arthur lowered his crimson eyes toward him.

Garris swallowed.

"What exactly are you?"

The question escaped before he could stop himself.

He had intended to ask something else, perhaps about Arthur’s origins or the reason he had decided to help their caravan. But after witnessing that battle, such questions seemed almost meaningless.

What kind of person could accomplish something like that?

Garris glanced toward the shattered weapons lying around them.

One of the bandits’ swords had been broken cleanly in half. Another weapon had been crushed beyond recognition, its metal twisted into an ugly shape.

Those weren’t ordinary weapons.

They had been carried by cultivators who could easily overpower experienced warriors.

Yet Arthur had destroyed them with his bare hands.

Garris looked back at him.

"How can someone possess that kind of physical strength?"

Arthur offered no response.

His crimson eyes remained cold and unreadable.

Garris waited for a moment, hoping the giant might explain himself. When nothing came, he nervously cleared his throat.

"But... you didn’t chant a single mantra."

He gestured vaguely toward the fallen bandits.

"You didn’t use any visible technique, either. I watched the entire fight. There wasn’t even a sign that you were circulating spiritual energy."

His confusion deepened with every word.

"Yet you defeated all of them with your bare hands."

Garris had seen powerful cultivators before. He understood that some possessed unusual physiques or had trained their bodies to extraordinary levels.

But those individuals usually displayed something that revealed their strength.

A particular aura. A recognizable technique. Some indication of their cultivation.

Arthur had shown none of those things.

He had simply walked into the battle and crushed his enemies.

It was as if the rules everyone else followed didn’t apply to him.

Garris studied the giant’s expression, searching for even the smallest hint of an answer.

There was nothing.

"Are you some kind of hidden master?"

Silence.

"A body cultivator?"

Nothing.

Garris hesitated.

"Or... something else?"

Arthur continued looking down at him without blinking.

The silence became increasingly uncomfortable.

For a brief moment, Garris wondered whether the giant had even understood his questions.

Then he noticed those crimson eyes again.

He immediately abandoned that thought.

Whatever Arthur was, Garris had no desire to discover what might happen if he irritated him.

After all, the man had just slaughtered a group of dangerous cultivators without appearing to exert himself.

If Arthur decided that Garris had become annoying, there was very little the merchant could do about it.

The realization made his throat feel dry.

Perhaps the giant had his reasons for keeping his identity secret. Perhaps he belonged to some ancient faction that preferred to remain hidden. Or perhaps his origins were so extraordinary that ordinary people like Garris could never hope to understand them.

There were countless possibilities.

Unfortunately, none of them brought him any closer to an answer.

Arthur simply stood there, offering neither an explanation nor a boast about what he had accomplished.

He didn’t seem interested in impressing anyone.

In fact, he appeared completely indifferent to the fact that half the people present were staring at him as though he were a monster wearing human skin.

Garris finally accepted defeat.

"Heh... right."

He forced an awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his neck.

"You’re not exactly a talkative man, are you?"

Arthur said nothing.

The forced smile on Garris’s face twitched.

Wonderful. I’ve managed to offend the strongest person I’ve ever met, and I don’t even know whether he’s offended.

He quickly decided that silence was probably the safest option.

Unfortunately, the mountain pass had other plans.

A sudden gust of wind swept across the road, carrying the smell of fresh blood farther into the surrounding wilderness.

Garris’s expression changed.

For the first time since approaching Arthur, he remembered where they were.

They were still deep inside the mountains.

And the bodies scattered across the road were an invitation to every hungry beast within the surrounding wilderness.

The bandits might have been their greatest immediate threat, but they certainly weren’t the only danger lurking in these mountains.

Garris turned toward the dark slopes on either side of the road.

The forest stood unnaturally quiet.

That silence was more frightening than any distant roar.

He had spent enough time traveling these routes to know that mountain beasts could detect blood from considerable distances. Some were little more than dangerous animals, while others possessed strength that even experienced cultivators preferred not to challenge.

The last thing their battered caravan needed was another battle.

Especially with so many injured people and damaged supplies.

"Wait..."

Garris’s eyes widened.

He immediately turned toward the surviving guards.

"A-Alright, Arthur! Let’s stop standing around and get out of here before more mountain beasts smell the blood!"

His sudden shout shattered the silence.

The guards jolted as though someone had thrown cold water over their heads.

For a moment, they had been too absorbed in staring at Arthur to remember their surroundings.

Now reality came crashing back.

"Move! Check the cargo!"

"Get the horses ready!"

"Help the wounded onto the carriages!"

The road erupted into frantic activity.

The surviving guards hurried between the scattered supplies, collecting whatever could still be salvaged. Crates were dragged away from the battlefield, damaged containers were secured, and the remaining goods were quickly loaded onto the wooden carriages.

Nobody wasted time mourning the cargo they had lost.

Their lives were worth more.

Nearby, the horses had become increasingly restless.

They stamped their hooves against the dirt, tossed their heads, and pulled nervously against their reins. The overpowering smell of blood had unsettled them, and the unnatural stillness of the surrounding wilderness only made matters worse.

One horse suddenly reared, nearly knocking a guard off his feet.

"Easy! Easy!"

The man struggled to hold the reins, his voice shaking almost as badly as his hands.

Another guard hurried over to help.

It took several tense moments before they managed to calm the animal enough to reconnect it to the carriage.

Throughout the commotion, Garris continued glancing toward the surrounding forest.

Every passing second made him more nervous.

Finally, he raised his arm.

"Everyone ready?"

Several guards shouted their confirmation.

Garris took a last look at the battlefield.

The red-sash bandits, who had at first seemed like an unstoppable army, now were nothing more than a pile of corpses under the violet moonlight.

And the man responsible for this massacre was casually standing by the side of the rear carriage, as if the events that just occurred had nothing to do with him.

Garris shook his head in disbelief.

He had no idea what kind of monster or rather, master, he had just faced.

But he was positive that he had no desire to call such a man his enemy.

"Move!"

The captain’s command echoed in the mountain pass.

The horses hurried the four wooden carriages, making the sound of twigs snapping and stones rolling down the slopes as the caravan went deeper into the mountain pass.

The guards urged their steeds to hasten the movement, and the horses, now running faster than ever before, did not complain despite the rough terrain.

No one wanted to linger around this place, and the guards made sure that no one would.

The trail of the battle was left behind in the depths of the pass, along with the broken weapons and the corpses of the dead bandits.

After several minutes of fast riding, the road, the battlefield and the dead men were left behind in the distance.

Arthur slid back on the same place where he had been before the battle. His enormous figure did not change in the slightest when he sat in the given carriage. His crimson eyes were open, looking into the distance, his face was motionless.

It was over! The battle was over! The immediate threat was neutralized and the carriages dragged away.

For Arthur, there was nothing more important than to take care of the business at hand. There was nothing else that could distract him.

Outside, the freed guards watched the trailing carriage, not daring to come close. Every few minutes, someone glances at the dark opening of the rear carriage, which, however, turns away just as quickly. They all seem to be waiting for something, but there is nothing to hurry. A few guards whispered a few words to each other and looked away. Not one of them came closer to the closed compartment to look inside. Not yet.

Garris watched these men with some concern, but did not interfere. He had asked too many questions for one night.

Besides, he was afraid that even if Arthur wanted to tell something, then by pestering him, they could spoil the moment. The caravan moved into the mountains.