Chapter 60 - Excessive Behavior

The nobles left inside the tent and those chased out by Lansite, who were still peeking tentatively, trembled violently at the sight of Pandora’s actions, as a chill swept through their hearts.They had thought Richard, the mysterious wizard, was terrifying enough, but they had not anticipated that the unremarkable little girl by his side would be just as frightening.

A punch that creates a pit over ten centimeters deep in the ground? If that hit someone, even in armor, they would surely cough up blood or even be killed on the spot!

Viscount Lansite’s gaze flickered as he thought this, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself. However, when he saw Richard headed straight toward him, his heart skipped a beat and he couldn’t help but ask in a guarded tone, “What do you want to do?”

“There’s something I need you to do,” Richard said, moving closer to whisper a few words into Lansite’s ear before heading straight out of the tent.

After hearing Richard’s words, Lansite’s eyes flickered, his expression complex for a moment, but he soon regained his composure as if nothing had happened, continuing to maintain order. He kept a watchful eye on all the nobles, ensuring none dared approach Prince Gro within five meters; otherwise, it is likely that the Prince’s head would be pulverized by a punch from the little girl in purple.

Richard emerged from the tent, advancing to the open space in front of it.

The eyes of both, the nobles inside and outside the tent, followed Richard, curious about what he would do next.

What Richard did was quite simple: He walked to the center of the clearing, stopped, then turned to the nearest young noble and asked, “What’s your name?”

The questioned noble was tall and thin, quite handsome, with a head of shining golden hair—a veritable protagonist right out of a knightly novel. However, this ‘protagonist’ was evidently not as brave as the previous Viscount Lansite. When asked by Richard, he grew visibly nervous, his complexion pale as he stuttered, “Bi… Bill Caesar.”

“Bill Caesar?” Richard’s eyes flashed slightly. “Isn’t it customary for a noble to introduce themselves with their title? What’s your title?”

“I…” Bill Caesar’s face reddened, “I… I have not yet inherited a title, but… but my father is a Marquis…”

“Ah, is that so.” Richard nodded. “Bill Caesar… Mr. Caesar, could you hand me the longsword you’re wearing at your waist?”

“What!” Bill Caesar exclaimed in surprise. “You… what do you want?” He failed to realize that, though Richard’s tone was one of request, his words were a command.

“Hand it over,” Richard emphasized firmly, too impatient for further discussion.

“Uhm, okay… fine…” Under Richard’s gaze, Bill Caesar broke out in a sweat, not daring to refuse, and finally tremblingly handed over his longsword to Richard. Not far off, Viscount Lansite watched and couldn’t hide a sneer at the corner of his mouth, then turned his head to look at the others as if he had thought of something.

After taking Bill Caesar’s longsword, Richard examined it and found it to be a decent Knight Sword. Also known as the Armed Sword, it was one of the finer one-handed swords in this world, with a sharply angled isosceles triangular blade over seventy centimeters long and a hilt over ten centimeters, equipped with a sizable weight for balance; suitable for both mounted and foot combat, able to maximize the power of a thrust in mounted battles, and effectively lethal against enemies on foot or those already downed—it met his requirements quite well.

Picking up the sword, Richard then turned to Bill Caesar and asked, “Which one of these horses is yours?”

The camp was not small, and many of the nobles had arrived on horseback. They were in such a hurry that they hadn’t even had the chance to properly secure their horses, instead rushing into the tent for fear of falling behind. Consequently, a dozen horses were scattered randomly across the open space in front of the tent.

Richard had noticed that Bill Caesar’s boots were new, probably switched out after a hunt, and they were nearly spotless of mud, indicating he was one of those who had ridden there, which is why Richard chose him for the longsword and now asked him this question.

Bill Caesar, unsure of Richard’s intentions and whether or not to lie, eventually pointed to a group of horses and said with a trembling voice, “That… that one there.”

“Very good,” Richard nodded and headed towards the horses.

“What… what are you going to do to my horse?” Bill Caesar couldn’t help but ask from behind.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Richard replied, walking straight up to the horse, placing his left hand on its back while his right hand with the longsword rested against the side of the horse. The sword’s tip gently glided across, as if searching for a specific spot.

“You… you’re going to…” Bill Caesar’s eyes widened, guessing what Richard was about to do. Although unclear why Richard would do such a thing, it did not lessen his agitation.

That was his horse, after all! A fine steed!

A fine horse is not only a noble’s wealth but also capital for showing off, a symbol of noble status. Only nobles are qualified to own fine horses. Conversely, if a noble doesn’t even have a single horse and has to walk on foot like an ordinary soldier, can they still be called a noble?

Richard’s sword tip continued to glide over the horse’s body, the cold touch making the horse somewhat restless, but it was forcefully held down by Richard.

The next moment, Richard’s right hand holding the sword tip paused, pinpointing a certain spot.

“I can’t stand to watch,” Bill Caesar couldn’t help but cry out.

The horse, sensing danger, let out a loud neigh, “Neigh!”

But Richard didn’t even blink as his right arm suddenly exerted force.

“Puh!”

The sharp longsword plunged directly into the horse’s body, piercing its heart with precision.

“My horse!” Bill Caesar cried out.

The horse struggled violently, its massive body endowed with a life force stronger than that of humans. Even with its heart pierced, it did not die in the first instance. In its dying moments, it neighed loudly as it prepared to attack Richard.

Richard’s lips parted and, with a spell spoken, “Wind Force” was cast upon him. His left hand, which had been pressing on the horse’s back, lifted slightly and then came down hard, like a mountain bearing down on the horse.

With a “crack,” the sound of the horse’s legs breaking could be heard. Before the attack could even be launched, Richard had brutally forced it down to the ground, immobile.

Bleeding, neighing.

Pain, wailing.

Convulsing, dying.

In the end, the horse lay still, breathless and lifeless.

Bill Caesar stood nearby, his eyes wide, but he dared not come forward and express his dissatisfaction with Richard.

Richard, too, couldn’t be bothered to explain. He pulled out his longsword, swung it swiftly, and ripped open the horse’s entire body, quickly finding its shattered heart. Starting from the heart, he combed outward and eventually severed one thick and one thin artery.

Holding the arteries, he walked towards the tent, passing by Bill Caesar. Suddenly, Richard thought of something and instructed him, “Today we hunted quite a few wild chickens and ducks. When they’re being processed into food, plenty of feathers will be plucked. Go and find some for me, and bring them here.”

“Uh…” Bill Caesar stood still, unmoved.

Richard frowned, noting that the other man was staring blankly at his dead horse, and couldn’t help shaking his head.

Had he gone too far?

Well, okay.

His expression slightly softened, he walked closer to Bill Caesar and lightly patted his shoulder, speaking gently, “Mr. Bill Caesar, now… please do as I’ve asked, otherwise, I assure you that you’ll end up just like your horse. Believe it or not?”

“I!” Bill Caesar’s eyes widened in horror as he looked at Richard. The next moment, without another word, he quickly ran off.

Richard shook his head involuntarily, stepped forward, and headed back towards the tent, walking inside.