As the first light of dawn barely touched the horizon, Yang Jing set out alone. Her destination was Conston City, where she aimed to verify the authenticity of a crucial piece of intelligence.

If the information proved accurate, it could solve two pressing issues for their team in one fell swoop: the lack of funds and the scarcity of talent.

The journey from Fengtao Village to Conston City spanned over thirty kilometers. Even for a master assassin like her, a round trip would consume an entire day. To ensure her return within the same day, Yang Jing had risen exceptionally early.

By the time Siegfried dragged himself out of bed, Yang Jing had already been gone for nearly three hours.

Since the previous day, Siegfried had delegated all his farm work to the idle soldiers under his command, freeing up considerable time for other matters.

"Good morning, Lord Meilan," the blond soldier Lyme respectfully saluted Siegfried as he emerged from the house. Today, Lyme was temporarily assigned as Siegfried's guard, though he secretly doubted this terrifying lord needed any protection at all.

Siegfried cast a glance at him and replied nonchalantly, "Morning. Your wound's healed up well?"

Lyme was momentarily taken aback before quickly lowering his head respectfully. "Yes, thanks to the villagers' care."

During the village attack incident, Lyme's injuries were second only to Catalina's.

However, that little tigress had a body tougher than an ox. With just a bit of Siegfried's medicine, she was up and about the next day.

Lyme wasn't so fortunate. The priest had refused to heal him, so the poor fellow had been bedridden for two days. The villagers took turns bringing him food and drink, including little Towa, whom he had nearly beaten up before.

Feeling a bit mischievous, Siegfried deliberately mocked, "Oh? Now they're villagers, not lowborns?"

Lyme's face flushed crimson with shame, his head almost disappearing into his shoulders. "I deserve death, I..."

"Enough. Just remember, it was these 'lowborns' you looked down upon who saved your life."

"Yes! I'll keep that in mind!"

"So, what's the matter?"

Lyme produced a piece of parchment from his bosom and handed it to Siegfried, saying:

"This is the list of spoils and prisoners from yesterday's ambush. Please review it, sir."

The handwriting on the parchment was neat and elegant, clearly the penmanship of Her Highness the Princess.

Siegfried took the list and raised an eyebrow.

There were nearly a hundred sets of common equipment such as spears, straight swords, and armor, along with a few magical weapons and a considerable amount of military rations.

(Quite a haul, it seems we've taken out an elite unit. It's impressive that Roland managed to wipe them out without losing a single man.)

"Categorize the spoils, store them in the warehouse, and keep detailed records."

"Yes, sir! ... What about the prisoners, my lord?"

Besides equipment and provisions, Roland had also captured seven prisoners, including a lead knight that Siegfried had specifically instructed to keep alive. The rest were likely survivors.

Siegfried pondered for a moment, then suddenly revealed a vicious smile.

"Keep the great knight. As for the rest, bury them all alive!"

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"What?!"

Lyme's legs went weak, and he nearly collapsed to the ground.

He had heard of a few heroes in history who were extremely bloodthirsty, leaving rivers of blood in their wake, more like demon kings than actual demon kings. But he never expected the man before him to be so merciless even to prisoners.

Cold sweat seeped from Lyme's back. He immediately dropped to one knee and pleaded urgently:

"My lord, they are already defenseless. Killing prisoners will not only terrify everyone but also damage your image among the soldiers. Her Highness wouldn't agree to such actions either. Please reconsider."

Of course, Siegfried had no intention of actually killing the prisoners. He simply wanted to utter this line and give the common soldier a scare.

(I always thought the phrase 'bury them all alive' sounded quite imposing. It really feels different saying it out loud.)

After indulging his chuunibyou tendencies, Siegfried looked at the trembling Lyme kneeling before him and said sternly, barely holding back his laughter:

"Alright, alright, I was just joking with you. Look at the state you're in. Where is that great knight being held? Take me to him."

Lyme heaved a sigh of relief, sincerely hoping that this lord would never joke again in his life.

"Yes, my lord. Please follow me."

......

Outside a dilapidated wooden cabin, Lyme worriedly reminded:

"Roland interrogated him yesterday, but he refused to talk no matter what. My lord, please be careful. He might do something desperate. If anything happens, just call for me."

"Heh, a tough nut to crack, huh? No worries, I can make even a dead man talk."

Another chill ran down Lyme's neck. He suddenly realized his last sentence was quite unnecessary.

Siegfried wasn't bluffing. Even if it were a dead person, the Wanderer's Manual could retrieve their information.

Now, it was time for Siegfried's favorite part: torturing... no, interrogating prisoners.

He pushed open the door. The air inside the dilapidated cabin was damp, permeated with the musty smell of rotting wood.

There was only one chair in the room, where a man in his thirties sat bound. His face was covered in blood and his body bore numerous wounds. Clearly, Roland hadn't shown any mercy.

Hearing the noise, the man didn't even raise his head as he spoke:

"Don't waste your time. I know nothing, and I won't say anything."

Name: Roy Barrett

Male, 35 years old

... (Details omitted)

Siegfried scanned through the information displayed on the Wanderer's Manual. As expected, Roy's personal information was complete. This man had originally been Yang Jing's temporary teammate, and all his recent activities had been witnessed by Yang Jing and recorded in the database.

Siegfried pulled up a chair and sat down before Roy, saying with a half-smile:

"You misunderstand. I'm not here to interrogate you."

"Hmph, then what are you here for, to watch me... uh!"

Roy lifted his head, intending to see who this pretentious fool was. However, as soon as he caught sight of the man sitting opposite him, the words died in his throat.

"I'm just here to have a chat with you."

Siegfried truly wasn't here to interrogate. He had already obtained various information about the Second Prince's faction from Yang Jing yesterday. He doubted a great knight would know more than Yang Jing, a close attendant. He was here to conduct an experiment.

"You... you... you are..."

Roy was already stuttering in shock. Black hair, black eyes - exactly like the legendary...

Siegfried revealed a sly smile and politely introduced himself:

"Hello, Mr. Roy. My name is Siegfried."

"Sieg... fried?"

"Or you can call me Meilan."

Roy's pupils suddenly contracted, and he nearly toppled from the chair.

"You... you... the Meilan family... is involved in this civil war?"

Roy's voice trembled uncontrollably.

Why had their operation been exposed? Why had this simple pursuit mission turned so deadly? Why had this six-month-long hunt suddenly become a trap filled with killing intent?

Since his capture, he had lain awake pondering these questions without finding answers. Now, he finally didn't need to think anymore.

A Meilan had become involved in this civil war. This fact alone explained all the inexplicable events.

Roy felt despair. Even when facing Durandal, he had never felt such hopelessness.

The failure of the pursuit team was merely his personal defeat; Lord Roderick still firmly held most of the kingdom's power. But if this Meilan joined the war, the balance of power would be utterly shattered in an instant. Roderick would no longer have any chance of victory.

The long history of the Qilan Continent had taught everyone that these were monsters capable of sweeping away thousands of troops.

"""