?”Does this question really require so much thought?” Sorovo continued.

His tone was leisurely, pressing on everyone’s nerves bit by bit.

“Choose not to speak, stay loyal, and be killed by me. Speak, choose to live, and be killed by Red Eye.”

“Of course, both choices come with their premises. Stay loyal, and perhaps Red Eye will avenge you, but you might still die by my hand. Choose to live, and there’s a chance I’ll kill Red Eye.”

“There, I’ve laid out the pros and cons for you, now the decision is in your hands.”

Sorovo reached for a glass, then for a bottle of strong liquor, pouring himself a drink without further ado.

Noticing Carlotte’s gaze from behind the counter, Sorovo raised his eyebrows, “Do you want some?”

It seems like my drink, though!

Carlotte wanted to roar but considering Sorovo’s notorious reputation and the many lives he had claimed, he suppressed the urge.

“Red Eye… We don’t know where Red Eye is,” a voice emerged from the crowd.

Carlotte’s expression shifted subtly, yet he didn’t turn around, for he dared not turn his back on Sorovo.

If it weren’t for Sorovo’s presence, that voice would probably have been silenced by him already! Their only card was the whereabouts of Red Eye, and yet, that person wanted to discard it.

Carlotte felt like killing that person a dozen times over.

“It seems some here have yet to grasp the reality of the situation,” Sorovo paused his pouring, the liquor’s surface gradually rising until it leveled with the brim of the glass.

“Tell me, what should I do?”

His actions halted, Sorovo held up the bottle, turning his gaze towards the silent Carlotte.

“That person is not one of us; whatever he says, it has nothing to do with us,” Carlotte declared straightforwardly.

A smile crept across Sorovo’s face: “So, you mean to leave him to my judgment?”

No one answered, but Sorovo noticed someone beginning to tremble.

With a “swoosh” sound, a blade was drawn.

No one could match Sorovo’s speed, nor did anyone catch his movements.

All that was heard was the swift “swoosh,” followed by Sorovo’s figure blurring then snapping back into clarity.

A person slowly collapsed, a single drop of blood falling onto the countertop.

Sorovo, holding his dagger, maintained his lukewarm smile.

A brief commotion erupted, only to be swiftly strangled by fear, returning to calmness.

Yet, a greater shadow silently spread.

If initially, some harbored the slim hope of escaping Sorovo’s grasp, now their thoughts turned solely to betraying Red Eye.

Even bandits are human, equally fearful, equally unwilling to meet their end. .

Faced with insurmountable violence, their only recourse was capitulation.

“Red Eye, I know where Red Eye is! I know where he went!” a voice exclaimed.

Sorovo turned towards the sound, spotting a very young man, likely only about twenty years old, with a clean appearance not typical of a bandit’s den but more akin to a scholar from someplace else.

The man was dressed in the same rough tunic as the bandits around him, wielding a curved dagger in one hand and holding a bag in the other, from which emanated the stench of blood.

Surveying the young man, Sorovo frowned, “Who are you? I didn’t see you among these people just now.”

The sudden mention of a stranger caught everyone off guard, their thoughts on the veracity of Sorovo’s statement halted as they all turned their gaze towards the young man.

The young man paused, scratching his head with a shy smile, “You noticed, huh? I thought you hadn’t seen me; I was planning a surprise attack. Seems like I failed.”

The idea that this young man had contemplated ambushing Sorovo left the crowd astounded.

“You almost succeeded, I think I might know who you are,” Sorovo sighed, his expression turning somewhat sorrowful.

“My men, how are they? They didn’t suffer much, did they?”

“No, most of them didn’t even realize what was happening when they died,” the young man replied, still wearing his timid smile, as he made his way through the crowd.

“Is it just me you’re after?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

No one had ever seen Red Eye.

This isn’t an exaggeration but a fact.

Even in meetings with members of the thieves group, Red Eye always wore a mask or a false face, so it wasn’t surprising that no one present could recognize Red Eye.

Unless Red Eye revealed himself, Sorovo could only remain on guard, never truly certain.

But then, as he began to speculate, Red Eye stepped forward voluntarily.

Indeed, the young man before Sorovo was Red Eye!

“You’re much younger than I imagined,” Sorovo remarked.

“And you’re older than I expected,” Red Eye replied with a slight smile, placing the bag on the counter, its crimson stains slowly spreading.

“Want to take a look inside?”

“No need. Using you to pay tribute to them will suffice.”

Sorovo didn’t need to look inside to know what was there.

The moment Red Eye appeared, he knew his plan had been exposed.

Although he couldn’t pinpoint who leaked the information, knowing no longer mattered.

Red Eye wouldn’t spare anyone.

And indeed, that was the case; Sorovo’s men were now absent from the perimeter.

When it came to Lorinda, Red Eye’s people were more familiar with the area than Sorovo’s.

With the plan exposed, those scattered forces were merely targets.

“If you think you can, then try,” Red Eye taunted, lifting his chin.

The shy smile on his face morphed, revealing a mix of arrogance and disdain, his gaze turning icy, as if looking at a dead man.

“I will,” Sorovo nodded.

Sorovo made his move.

The dagger, held in a reverse grip, became a streak of silver light in an instant, gliding over the counter and stopping in front of Red Eye!

No one besides Red Eye could keep up with Sorovo’s pace, witnessing only a shadow, unbound by gravity, standing before Red Eye, the dagger gliding across his neck.

It was as if emerging slowly from mist, the blurry apparition fading bit by bit until Sorovo’s form sharpened into clarity.

And only then did the people in the tavern realize what had happened.

Sorovo had acted! Within the gap of everyone’s reaction, he had leaped over the counter, confronting Red Eye directly, his blade severing his throat!

Had Red Eye been slain? A specter of fear dragged everyone towards an abyss.

However, a voice refocused everyone’s attention.

“You’re a bit faster than I anticipated,” came a voice.

At the tavern’s entrance, a figure stood leaning against the doorframe, one hand holding a curved blade, the other a large bag.

“Mana illusion,” Sorovo’s voice carried no surprise; he had realized it the moment his dagger passed through the figure.

That wasn’t the sensation of cutting through flesh.

“Correct,” the figure before Sorovo collapsed, disintegrating bit by bit into silvery white sparks.

Red Eye straightened up, having never entered the tavern but instead communicated with Sorovo from outside via a mana illusion.

With a gesture, he tossed the large bag from his left hand outwards.

The bag rolled a few times on the ground, its mouth gaping open, its contents spilling out.

It was a human head, a face all too familiar to Sorovo.

The young centurion.

“Your men are quite commendable; I only killed those on the inside, and those outside reacted promptly. This one, among them, was the strongest, likely one of your most capable subordinates. His resistance had some merit,” Red Eye commented, stroking his chin.

“Do you know what I’m thinking?” he continued.

“I’m pondering how to enrage you further. Perhaps by killing your kin?”

“You won’t have the chance,” Sorovo’s voice was chilling, echoing as if it came from the depths of hell.

“You will die by my hand, a sacrifice to my foolish subordinates. I’ve said this just a moment ago; your memory is truly poor.”

Sorovo advanced, and the crowd parted automatically.

No one could predict what would happen next, only stand aside in silence, mute spectators to the unfolding drama.

Red Eye simply smiled at Sorovo’s words, turning to walk towards the door.

The streets were deserted, even within a two-hundred-meter radius centered on the Blossom Pub, the only ones still moving were a few individuals.

This included a hidden observer, some henchmen too cowardly and brainless to act, a few bandits who wanted to turn but found no opportunity, and several dead or soon-to-be-dead individuals.

Sorovo stepped out of the tavern into the complete darkness of the night, lifting his gaze to the twinkling stars above.

Red Eye walked ahead, his voice emanating from all directions.

“The weather’s nice today, reminds me of my days on the plains. You should see it, the western side of the Silverwind Prairie, right before the vast expanse of the Golden Mare grasslands. It’s a splendid spot for stargazing.”

“This world is much larger than either of us can imagine. I’ve heard that a distant land named Oli has recently extended its reach towards us.”

“They possess a formidable army and firearms far superior to ours.”

“But I will make them realize they’ve made a grave mistake.”

Holding his dagger, Sorovo stood still in the middle of the street.

Red Eye turned around, wearing the infamous mask known throughout Breeze City.

A crimson smile, the clown with blood-red teeth.

No response?

“Such a dull person,” Red Eye shook his head with a sigh.

“Well then, let’s begin.”

…

This content is taken from 𝑖𝘦.𝒸𝘰𝑚