Pedestrians on both sides of the street stopped to watch and marvel at the rider on the white horse. The young girls were talking to each other, and the gleam in their eyes was the kind of gleam a man would want a woman to have when she looks at him, i.e., adoration and fascination and longing.

  The horses were one in a thousand, and the men on them were one in a million. Silver glittering knight armor as if it is not a piece of need to wear foreign objects, but I temperament out of the natural embodiment, so majestic, just because wearing his body. A head of people have dazzling illusion of blonde hair, as if the sun's light negative in the body, willingly become part of him. Sword eyebrow, straight nose, handsome but not at all lose the man's mighty air of the contour of the face. The sunlight on his armor and blonde hair reflected light in such a way that onlookers mistook it for his own light.

  Of course, such a man must have an identity to match. Among the passersby, there were a few people who knew that this was the eldest son of the Grand Duke of Erni, the captain of the Royal Knights of the Holy Knights, and the son-in-law of the Duke of Mrak, the Knight of Erni Clovis. There were young girls among the listeners who immediately fantasized that their mothers had once had an affair with Sir Mrak.

  Clovis paid no attention to the crowd of admirers around him. In his eyes, these stupid commoners are no different from ants, it is natural to be surprised by his own tall and magnificent, do not need to worry about it.

  Besides, he was annoyed, or rather he had been annoyed for more than a month, and now he actually had to waste his time here slowly. If he could, he would instantly draw his sword and kill every single one of the street bitches that made the caravan have to move slowly.

  That soldier had actually managed to escape from the capital, and might even have been lurking somewhere within the capital all along. This incident hadn't allowed him to sleep a single day in the past month. Once he remembered that that lowly bastard was probably hiding in a dark hole in the ground, snickering, gloating over the fact that he had been able to escape from a knight, and rejoicing over the knight's worrying headache, he fell into an extreme rage. He vowed that when he captured the soldier, he would carefully and slowly pick off every sensitive part of his body bit by bit like a manicure, making him howl like a dog in a pool of blood for three days and three nights, licking the soles of his shoes with his tongue in death and wailing and begging himself to kill him quickly.

  The only good news was that at least now the soldier hadn't broken the news. It was possible that he himself didn't know the true significance of that news, burying the matter into the shadows forever along with himself. The progress of the orcs in the west was also surprisingly good, and it would probably only take another half a year for them to be fine. But the soldier was still like a bomb in an unknown condition, possibly already damp and failing, or possibly suddenly manifesting his existence from somewhere one day without knowing it, making the whole delicate layout of the matter unmanageable.

  Today his injured fiancée had finally been returned, and he'd had to drop what he was doing to go outside the city to then escort her back to the dukedom. He was very reluctant to waste his time on such things.

  He hated wasting time in the extreme. Time was precious, every minute should be spent efficiently, should be rewarding, should be helpful to one's acquisition of great power and high status. It was his creed that a man should live to advance and advance and advance, and he was proud to have this creed, and he despised the pariahs who lived like ants and lived like ants. He therefore hated everything that offended his proud creed with a passion.

  And he knew that she was equally unwilling to see herself. It was not an outward dislike of him, but a revolting indifference. This attitude annoyed, even angered, Clovis. He was accustomed to people worshipping him, admiring him, fearing him, even allowing them to hate him, to detest him, which at least meant that in their minds he was a presence that could not be ignored, a proof of great power. But he would never be allowed to be ignored, to be looked at as if he were a cockroach slipping through a corner.

  There was only one person in the world who looked at him that way. If it had been anyone else, he would have done whatever it took to tell that person who dared to defy him that he could tear apart anyone who looked down on him. But it just so happened that this person was his fiancée, someone who was about to carry that kind of gaze with him for the rest of his life. And now he had to waste a lot of time to protect her.

  It was undoubtedly a very annoying thing to do, and he would never do it if he could.?

  But it couldn't be helped, there were times when the impressions of the bystanders were the key, the thing that made the whole thing worthwhile. Duke Mrak's daughter had been injured, and with the relationship between the Duke's Excellency and the Erni family, and the eldest son of the Grand Duke of Erni being the fiancé of the Duke's young lady, then he would surely dart off to the outskirts of the city, followed by his fiancé, and carefully escort her all the way back to the Duke's mansion. Since people assumed so, things could only be demonstrated in this way.

  The man had been received, and the two had the good sense not to look at each other or say a word. Instead, as soon as they met, she asked her sister in a weak voice, impatiently, where was the young man who had come to report to the dukedom a month ago. In her mind, that soldier was a hundred times more important than her fiancé. This made Clovis angry, but he was not jealous, in his eyes his fiancée or any woman was just a prop, it was just that this attitude of hers showed that from a certain perspective he was inferior to that soldier.

  Which angle he didn't want to count, he just wouldn't allow a lowly redneck to be suspected of surpassing him in any way. I am strong, perfect, awesome, top of the line. This concept had long been ingrained in his brain and was a source of pride for him. He was a very proud man in truth, so he was also easily annoyed and angry.

  Maybe the damn soldier would use this opportunity to get to her. Then he could cut the guy's hands and feet off one by one right in front of her, so she could get a good look at who exactly was not to be ignored. Clovis thought so, trying to give some meaning to this boring action that put him in a bad mood. But he also knew that it was just a bit of self-congratulatory thinking; the soldier hadn't been stupid enough to do that anyway.

  "Brother-in-law, did you notice the way those girls were looking at you?" Chrissy was looking at Clovis with what she described as her eyes, excitedly reporting her counterpart.

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  "Hmm." Kravis was concentrating on his own thoughts in the middle of it.

  "Don't be so cool all the time." Chrissy's eyes went a level deeper. This girl was his fiancée's sister. Seventeen years old, with looks similar to her sister's and pretty, one of the few beauties within the royal capital, and a personality that was characterized by the frivolity and unawareness typical of noble girls.

  Like the youngest daughter in any family, she was favored by her father. And when she was born, the Duke didn't have much time to spend on educating his children. Growing up in an environment that was no different from that of other nobles' children also resulted in a personality that was no different from that of other nobles' children. Some time ago, she actually asked to go to the magic academy to study the ancient books, but it looks like it is just to add some noble meaning of the halo, and there is no practical significance.

  Clovis sometimes wondered why the Duke did not marry this daughter to him. Such a childish and superficial girl was easy to grasp, he could deal with it with ease, and it would be much more convenient for both the Duke and himself.

  There was a sudden commotion from the caravan behind them. "There was a man who tried to climb into the lady's carriage and was caught by us." A guard came over to report.

  This report made Clovis's suddenly remember an incident that was just a moment ago just a figment of his imagination, a premonition of great luck surged through his heart as he spurred his horse over.

  Several soldiers were pulling at a man whose entire body was covered in a cloak. It was a hunchback, seemingly crippled, wearing a cloak that looked like it hadn't been washed in centuries, and it was easy to assume that this was a man working some odd job in a dank basement.

  As Clovis looked closely, he suddenly realized that the cloak was actually well worn, just enough to hide all of the man's body parts underneath, and even standing across the room, you would be hard pressed to see the face inside, and even the body shape was blurred by the cloak.

  Clovis dismounted, his eyes fixed on the face drowning in the shadow of the cloak as if he wanted to pierce every detail inside with his gaze.

  He took one step in front of the man. Each step was slow and steady, as if what lay before him was a ghost that had only just appeared through a gap in time, and the slightest mishap would cause it to dissipate back into the air.

  His hand slowly gripped the hilt of his sword at his waist, and word by word he ordered, "Pull that thing off his head." At this distance, he was certain that he would never let anyone escape again.

  The cloak was pulled away, and the first to react was the soldier pulling the cloak, who was immediately startled and jumped back a step.

  This one had a face that was very unfit to appear in broad daylight. The features looked like they had been melted by a pot of boiling water and then randomly pinched and re-condensed by hand, or like a poor clay sculptor who was dissatisfied with his own work and casually pressed another hand on the already ugly face. There was also a patch of purplish-red lumps of flesh that were so oily and shiny that they rose up as if they would immediately burst open and fly out in hot, pus-filled blood. "It's old man Sandro's hunchbacked assistant." Someone inside the guards recognized it immediately.

  Clovis carefully scanned the face from top to bottom twice, unable to find a single element that overlapped with the expected one, and felt nothing but a wave of nausea. Turning to the guard who had just snapped, the annoyance and revulsion in his eyes was something even a dumb cow could sense as he asked, "You recognize it?"

  The guard warily clarified for himself, "It's not that I recognize it, it's that many people know that this guy is the assistant of that old man Sandru who specializes in corpses in the west of the city." A number of passersby chimed in. Among them, there was also someone who shouted, "Hunchback, you think that's a carriage pulling corpses oh? Quickly kowtow and admit your mistake."

  Was it really just other people? Just a coincidence? But even if it was a mistake, it seemed like it didn't matter much, not being able to let go of any slight possibility. A few veins floated on the back of Clovis's hand that was gripping the sword.

  But he glanced at the face that really couldn't be looked at more closely, and finally let go of the hilt. I'm afraid that the blood of someone so ugly and engaged in such dirty things is as dirty and stinky as the water at the bottom of the gutter, so what if it gets on his own clothes and body? What if it splashed on his face? The assumption made him feel like throwing up. He turned on his horse and ordered, "Get rid of him."

  "Roll." The guard was too afraid to actually kick over for fear of dirtying his shoes, but only lifted his foot in a vain attempt to make the shushing sound of a chasing dog. The crowd of onlookers let out a roar of laughter.

  "That man just now looked so scary." As she watched the man re-cloak and limp away into the crowd on his back, Chrissy took Clovis's arm in a fearful gesture.

  "Who was that?" A weak female voice came out of the wagon. Chrissy replied, "Nothing, just a madman."

  At dusk, in the big house, Sandro is removing the livers of the two corpses and comparing them to each other, then dividing them into smaller pieces to soak in the liquid, with Asa nearby to help pass various tools.

  A wildcat jumps in through the window and stares at Sandru, purring. Sandru casually sliced off a piece of his hand and tossed it to the wildcat.

  "What if the bone there in the cervical spine cracks?" Asa asked.

  "Throw it away." Sandru didn't look up.

  Asa struggled to adjust his wording, "Not dead people, I mean if a living person's cervical vertebrae should be treated if it's cracked from an injury?"

  Sandru lifted the small hammer on the table and with a muffled wave, cracked a cervical vertebrae off a corpse and said, "Try putting it back together yourself." Then as if suddenly remembering, he stared at Asa and said, "You still owe me three years and two months of work."

  "I know." Asa replied.

  "Then please think of me for those three years and two months of work." Sandro put special emphasis on the words 'my' with a heavy accent. "Do not go to your death. I've heard you were valiant today. But do you realize that you really can't fake your limp."

  "Then how can I act like it?" Asa asked in vain. He would have to speak to her next time to get it right.

  Sandro picked up the small hammer from earlier. "Feet up."

  At the same time, inside the ducal palace, Duke Mrak was sitting by his daughter's bedside, telling her a made-up story. He hadn't done this kind of thing for more than a decade, and now that he was back at it, he was still light on his feet.

  "He left just like that?" Little Yi's eyes were full of disappointment inside.

  Duke Mrak's eyes were also full of disappointment as he said, "Yes. Such an excellent young man, I would have loved to keep him. But he insisted on leaving, so I can't do anything about it."

  Next to her, Chrissy imagined her sister's story just now, languidly sighing, "A man who traveled through the dangerous swamps all over the continent by himself, and fought an orc, and saved a girl this is really the same as a story from the mouth of a bard. He must be very handsome, with long hair that covers half of his eyes by the way, maybe he's still a prince of some small country." Said the man himself as if he was a little inexplicably excited,.

  "Did he say anything?" Yi asked, her eyes all expectant after disappointment.

  Duke Mrak's eyes were filled with the gentleness, tolerance and understanding that a loving father should have, answering, "He told you to get well and not to go to such a dangerous place in the future. He will come back to see you sometime in the future."

  "The situation reported by this young man is very useful. But this is a military secret that cannot be revealed to others, or else his hard work will be in vain. So you must not divulge to anyone else every word he says to you, nor tell anyone else what you met in the swamp." The Duke intensified his tone and slowed his voice,more heartfelt than serious. "You must remember not to let his heart and soul go to waste, understand?"