To kill such a terrifyingly skilled man would cost dozens more lives; it would be better to seize the opportunity to capture his family and bring him under one’s command, thus exchanging dozens of subordinates for a fierce general as compensation.

As for the already dead bandits, most of them had no relatives or ties, living each day with their heads on the line. Once dead, they were just rotting flesh—no one would shed an extra tear for them.

“Heh! Old Carter, you should count yourself lucky. If I hadn’t washed my hands of the old life, would there be any place within eight hundred li for you, Old Carter, to run wild? Surrender to you? Pah! You think you’re worthy?”

A surge of overwhelming dominance burst forth from the pot-bellied David Thompson.

Kill his brothers and expect to settle things peacefully? Dream on!

The The Three Thompson Brothers were all dumbfounded, as if seeing their father anew for the first time.

Was this really the always cheerful or bullying Mr. Thompson? The unconcealable air of disdain was even stronger than Old Carter’s, making one wonder what a legendary figure their father must have been in his youth. Now, he had retracted his claws, willingly retiring to this border town, living as a wealthy man with no great ambitions, idling his days away.

“Big brother!”

Head steward George Thompson couldn’t help but change his form of address, inexplicably moved.

It was as if the David Thompson who once dominated the martial world and struck fear into all had returned.

Now it was Old Carter’s turn for his expression to change slightly. West Yan Town was full of hidden dragons and crouching tigers—there were still such figures here. It seemed this would not end well. He forced a smile and said, “In that case! Don’t blame me, Old Carter, for not giving you a chance!”

He made another gesture, reined his horse back, and the bandits beside him all retreated as well.

“Get ready to charge with me! Even if we die, we’ll take a chunk out of them! My The Old Thompson Family has never been easy to bully.”

David Thompson was filled with heroic spirit, preparing to lead everyone out of West Yan Town.

At that moment, instead of charging, Old Carter and his men were blocked by a disheveled, empty-handed man on horseback, who stood in front of David Thompson and the others.

The nearby bandits shrank away as if facing a viper or scorpion.

The man casually brushed aside the long hair covering his face, revealing a pale countenance. His slightly narrowed eyes glinted with a chilling, strange green light as he spoke slowly, “In such a hurry to leave? Why not stay!”

“Big brother! There’s something strange about this man!”

Head steward George Thompson stepped forward with his red-tasseled spear, blocking David Thompson.

“Sorcerer!”

David Thompson spat out the word.

George Thompson’s face changed instantly, gritting his teeth, “It’s you!”

He still remembered his younger brother Charles Thompson had died in a sudden magical fire; this man before him might be the killer.

The red tassel danced without wind, the spear tip flickering with deadly light. With a roar, head steward George Thompson charged at the sorcerer, man and spear as one.

Sorcerers who used talismans and magical implements to cast spells were not strong in close combat. If one could get close before the spell was cast, there was a good chance to kill the sorcerer. Head steward George Thompson wasted no words, striking first to gain the upper hand—this was his plan.

“Kill!~”

The red-tasseled spear thrust forward in a flurry of spear flowers, rapidly closing in on the sorcerer, its sharp tip seemingly able to pierce anything with ease.

Facing the rapidly approaching spear, the sorcerer’s lips curled into a strange, cold smile. He softly uttered a single word.

“Freeze!”

The icy spear tip, less than a foot from his nose, suddenly stopped dead without warning, unable to advance even a fraction.

……

Chapter 6: Calamity

Head steward George Thompson remained frozen in a forward-thrusting stance, both hands gripping the spear, his whole body stiff and immobile.

In the sky, a small black flag floated in the wind.

“Hmph! Foolish thing!”

The sorcerer disdainfully raised his hand, and a crimson fireball the size of an egg appeared above his palm, instantly enveloping the spearhead and rapidly spreading down the shaft toward the steward’s hands.

George Thompson’s body trembled slightly, sweat the size of soybeans beading on his face. No matter how he struggled, it was as if his body no longer belonged to him—he could not move at all.

The shadow at his feet shifted and stretched, as if something was moving within, but it was impossible to see what it was.

The fire crept along the spear toward George Thompson, just as it had burned his brother Charles Thompson to ashes before. The sorcerer, like a cat toying with a mouse, intended for the brothers to be consumed by magical fire one after the other.

“Damn sorcerer!”

David Thompson didn’t hesitate for a moment, rushing forward to save his head steward.

His right hand slipped quietly into his sleeve, just as he was about to act, when a flash of sword light streaked across the sky, slicing through the small black flag above the sorcerer’s head with lightning speed.

The sorcerer’s face changed dramatically—first ashen, then flushed blood-red, as if painted with red lacquer, tinged with black and purple.

Pfft!~

A mouthful of black blood spurted out, and the strange red on his face receded like a tide, leaving only a golden hue.