Chapter 59 - Blackmailing the Crowd

In the tent, the table was overturned, and plates and food were scattered everywhere. A sword lay on the ground, suggesting a sudden and brief struggle had taken place.Gro lay in a pool of blood on the floor, clutching his abdomen with a face full of pain. He no longer had the strength to shout, only emitting very low moans. Seeing Richard burst in, Gro’s lips struggled to move as he feebly called out, “Save… save me…”

Richard’s eyes narrowed, his prior suspicions confirmed.

He stepped toward Gro, his brain whirring as he walked, pondering what could have happened in the short few minutes since he’d left. After a moment, before he could even kneel down, Gro had already passed out, his eyes closing. Simultaneously, a clamor of footsteps and horse hooves sounded from outside the tent.

“Swoosh!”

The tent flap was thrown open violently, and numerous nobles rushed in, then saw Gro motionless with his eyes shut, and saw Richard by Gro’s side.

The air was thick with tension for a split second, the tense and oppressive atmosphere reaching its peak without any lead-up.

“Clang! Clang! Clang!”

In the blink of an eye, many weapons were drawn. Though they feared Richard the Wizard, seeing Prince Gro “slain” had ignited the nobles’ fury, and they looked ready to attack, shouts filling the air.

“Damn you, you wicked wizard, how dare you attempt to assassinate the prince!”

“To hell with it, you killed the prince, we’ll burn you alive!”

“Wizard, don’t run, we must kill you to avenge the prince!”

Listening to the noisy clamoring, Richard’s eyebrows raised slightly, but his expression remained unchanged. He was well aware that explanations were useless and meaningless at this moment. What was important was how to resolve the current situation.

No matter what, Gro was indeed injured and even at risk of death. If he died, the deal Richard had just struck would be considered a failure.

This… was not permissible.

The next moment, without any hesitation, Richard picked up Gro’s sword from the ground and placed it directly across the unconscious Gro’s neck. This action caused all the nobles to jolt simultaneously.

Richard looked at the nobles calmly and said, “Regardless of whether I injured your prince, he is not dead now, only unconscious, and he is under my control. So, it’s best you think rationally and follow some arrangements I will make. Anyone who dares to defy me, I’ll kill Gro for real and chop off his head. Then, no matter how skilled a physician may be, they won’t be able to save his life.”

“This!”

Everyone froze in place, looking at each other, not daring to make any rash moves.

Richard nodded in satisfaction, turned to the closest noble, and asked, “What’s your name?”

The man, in his thirties with a scruffy beard, frowned slightly upon being addressed and answered coldly while resting his hand on his sword, “Viscount Lansite!”

“Ah, Viscount Lansite,” Richard nodded, “Hmm, you performed well during the hunt today, and Gro mentioned you earlier at the banquet. So… starting now, you’re in charge of maintaining order among everyone.”

Richard gestured towards Pandora and continued, “Aside from her and me, you must ensure that everyone stays at least five meters away from Gro, or else, kill him.”

“Why should I listen to you?” Lansite glared with hostility as he asked.

“You certainly don’t have to listen to me,” Richard replied calmly, “you just need to bear the guilt of having killed the Prince.”

“You!”

Lansite’s eyes were about to split with rage, as if it were the first time he had seen someone as despicable as Richard. After a long moment, he took a deep breath, trying hard to keep from exploding. “Fine, I’ll listen to you. But Prince Gro is a good man—if you dare harm him and let me find an opportunity, I will tear you to shreds.”

“Ha, well said, well said,” Richard was not intimidated in the least.

Lansite gritted his teeth, turned his head, and began to wave for the nobles to retreat. Some of the nobles were unwilling, but Lansite didn’t show any courtesy—he drew his sword and walked over.

Just as Richard had seen during the day, Lansite’s “Combat Power” was perhaps the highest in the entire hunting party; the momentum of wielding his sword directly overpowered those who did not cooperate.

Eventually, most of the many nobles left the tent with eyes full of resentment—some directed at Lansite, some at Richard.

Richard, unbothered, after seeing a line of nobles retreat far enough, bent down to start examining Gro’s injuries.

Then he discovered that the situation wasn’t too bad.

Perhaps due to innate caution, even when attending the banquet, Gro still wore a light chain armor under his loose robes, and it was this chain armor that had saved his life.

Obviously, Gro had been attacked with a dagger that rapidly stabbed toward his body, followed by a harsh slash. Thanks to the chain armor, the dagger’s damage was greatly reduced. After using full force to cut through the chain armor, the attack, which originally would have cleaved Gro’s body in half, had weakened to only cutting open his lower abdomen slightly.

Therefore, the wound wasn’t deep, almost none of the internal organs were harmed—it was merely a flesh wound. The reason for Gro’s unconsciousness was partly due to excessive blood loss and possibly the terror of the spirit.

With this in mind, the situation was easier to deal with. As long as he helped Gro to treat the wound and replenished his blood, he should be able to wake up. In this case, his own trade could still go on.

Thinking this, Richard stood up and handed over Gro’s sword to Pandora at his side.

Pandora was staring with wide eyes, watching everything unfold, her gaze showed no fear. After all, for a Dragon Clan girl who had slaughtered rampantly in the Beast Tide, not to mention just one person getting injured—even if everyone in the camp were killed, there would be nothing to fear. She was just curious about how the whole thing happened.

How did this guy named Gro suddenly get injured and fall? Why did a group of people outside charge in so furiously? Just because she took a silver fork? Was it worth it?

With this thought, Pandora subconsciously bit lightly on the silver needle-like fork in her mouth. At that point, seeing Richard handing over the longsword, she received it with some confusion.

Richard spoke up, instructing her seriously, “You stay in the tent and guard. If anyone dares to move, use the sword to kill the man on the ground.”

After hearing Richard’s words, Pandora obviously paused, swung the sword she held in her hand, and looked at Richard with a questioning glance, “Do I really have to do it this way?”

“And how else do you propose we do it?” Richard countered.

With a “pfft,” Pandora thrust the iron sword deeply into the ground until it was buried to the hilt. Then she clenched her delicate fist and smashed it hard onto the ground, creating a depression over ten centimeters deep.

Having done all this, Pandora looked up at Richard; with the silver fork tip in her mouth preventing her from speaking and too lazy to speak, she communicated with a glance, “Can it not be done this way? Isn’t using my fist easier?”

“Er, alright, alright,” Richard spoke up, suddenly feeling disinclined to discuss the topic further, “Whatever makes you happy.”