Chapter 51

Moments later, the once-crowded battlefield transformed into a scene of chilling emptiness. Over forty thieves lay as cold corpses upon the ground, with only a scant few managing to slip away amidst the chaos, fleeing into the distance.

It was an unavoidable circumstance; the sheer number of thieves had been overwhelming. No matter the prowess of the First Guard, one man could not embody the strength of two. Thus, a few unfortunate souls had inevitably evaded capture.

Observing the thieves darting away, more than a thousand meters distant, Tuku's eyes flickered with determination. He rode forth to Richard's side and proposed, "Master Richard, shall I lead a few men in pursuit to eradicate the remaining threat? Or perhaps capture a few alive to question—at the very least, unearth who possesses such audacity to attack you!"

Richard remained noncommittal, simply raising his hand once again.

Tuku felt a surge of resolve as he recognized Richard's hand signal—the order had been given. The remaining members of the First Guard stiffened with purpose, preparing to pursue the elusive remnants.

As Richard's hand descended, the warriors of the First Guard raised their whips in unison, poised to ride forth. Yet, in an unexpected turn of fate, Richard's hand halted mid-air, frozen like a statue, a dazed expression painting his features.

"Hmm?" The First Guard cast curious glances at Richard, while Tuku inquired, a hint of concern in his voice, "Master Richard, what is amiss?"

Richard's face twitched as his muscles stirred, followed by a furrowing of his brow. He slowly uttered, "This is wrong."

"Hmm?"

"Wrong—most decidedly wrong!" Richard shook his head, his voice rising with urgency. A detail had dawned upon him, piercing through the fog of chaos. The tracks they had spotted earlier by the road did not correlate with the overwhelming force of bandits they had just encountered.

It did not match up—truly, it did not match!

Richard's eyes gleamed with realization as he turned to Tuku, questioning, "The tracks we discerned on the road, they indicated around twenty persons, did they not?"

"Um, yes," Tuku replied.

"And yet the count of thieves we faced moments ago exceeds forty." Richard's voice grew stern, his gaze sharp enough to cut through the air.

"But that could imply…"

"I know what you wish to insinuate," Richard interjected firmly, "You are merely suggesting that there may be two different bands—one following us, and another lying in wait here. Ultimately, both groups could merge and set an ambush for us."

"Uh, yes…"

"But have you noted one crucial detail?" Richard fixed an intense gaze upon Tuku, replaying the earlier tracks in his mind.

Tuku paused, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as he questioned, "What detail, Master Richard?"

"They possessed no horses!" Richard stated with gravitas. "Let us not forget, the tracks we observed were replete with evidence of numerous steeds. It was those horses that allowed the thieves to maintain their lead before us. So now, where are the horses? They did not appear during the ambush, nor did they show themselves in the thieves' flight—where have they gone? Hidden? Vanished into thin air?"

At this revelation, the expressions of Tuku and the other members of the First Guard turned grave. They understood that Richard's notion of 'hidden' or 'vanished' was abnormal assumption; the true answer was starkly clear—the band of thieves had indeed never possessed any horses.

"No horses," Richard observed, reading the understanding in their eyes. "This revelation implies that the thieves and those who stalked us are of entirely different factions. The thieves have been routed, yet those who tracked us remain concealed, still in hiding."

"If!" Richard's tone shifted ever so slightly, an air of heightened vigilance enveloping him. "If those tailing us intend to strike, when would they choose to do so? What moment would serve them best?"

"It should be… when we pursue the remaining thieves, utterly unguarded…" Tuku responded, a cold sweat beginning to bead upon his brow.

Richard nodded solemnly, affirming Tuku's assessment: "Indeed, it is precisely when we are engaging the fleeing thieves, which is now."

"And what shall we do?" Tuku pondered, drawing his knightly sword halfway from its scabbard.

"What else is to be done? We must locate them and slay them," Richard replied, his tone biting cold. His mind began to shift, contemplating the perspective of an attacker: how would he approach this situation?

As thoughts churned, Richard began to vocalize, "Should they truly wish to ambush us while we chase the remaining thieves, they must be concealed nearby. They cannot be far, and the terrain must be favorable. But where might that be?"

Richard ran his eyes over his surroundings, seeking a suitable location for an ambush, yet after a thorough inspection, he found nothing of significance. The autumn rain and raging winds impaired his ability to detect any hidden threats.

Yet, Richard refused to yield to despair. Instead, he slowly closed his eyes, entering a deep meditative state cultivated over months of relentless effort.

 Remarkably adept, he no longer required external aids to meditate, unlock his mana core, or refine elemental energies. In this meditative state, though not as penetrating as in ideal conditions, he could amplify his awareness swiftly, allowing him to sense everything within a vast radius in a vague yet profound way.

The rain cascaded down, and the winds howled around him as Richard extended his perceptive consciousness like a delicate touch, reaching out to every corner.

And then, in the very next heartbeat…

"Whoosh!"

Richard's eyes shot open, having pinpointed the location of his target.

With renewed vigor, his hand shot up, then came crashing down, and the First Guard charged forth, racing towards a direction that had previously escaped their notice.

"Clop! Clop! Clop!"

The thunder of hooves reverberated across the muddy earth, splashing through pools of rainwater. Amidst the flying muck and fierce winds, the entire First Guard lunged forward like a dark arrow, swift and relentless.

At the forefront, Tuku brandished his knight's great sword, slicing through the hefty underbrush that obstructed his path, plunging boldly into a relatively concealed clearing.

In that very clearing stood nearly twenty mounted riders, silently waiting for something… anything.

Startled by Tuku's sudden appearance, they momentarily hesitated, instinctively reaching for their weapons, yet it was far too late—far, far too late!

When two cavalry units of comparable might clash, the one that charges first forever retains the instigated advantage.

Harnessing the speed granted by his steed, Tuku drew upon his full strength, delivering a powerful downward stroke with his sword that cleaved open the skull of the nearest rider. He pressed on, undeterred, rushing towards the next adversary with unyielding ferocity.

Close behind him followed Philip, his fearsome chain flail swirling in a dark tempest, unleashing carnage among the enemy ranks. Next in line were Hughes, Old Matt, and Red Eye…

The air filled with piercing screams as the slaughter resumed, the gruesome dance of death echoing through the clearing.

This time, the battle unfolded at a slightly more protracted pace, extending over seven to eight minutes before reaching an uneasy resolution. As Tuku returned, drenched in the blood of their foes, he met Richard's scrutinizing gaze, rife with inquiry.