On the journey home, Rogue and his companions were undoubtedly a conspicuous sight. Over a dozen riders, all large men on sturdy horses, wore bright armor and distinctive attire. A knight following closely behind Rogue held high the regiment banner of 'Dragon and Beauty'. This banner, designed by Franco himself and approved by Master Mist Illusion, depicted a sky filled with dragon fire. Amidst the flames, a peerlessly beautiful sorceress floated in the air, her devilish figure barely contained by a black robe. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her face tilted upwards, a cascade of golden hair flying skyward. Although her face wasn't visible from this angle, the exquisite lines of her neck were enough to inspire endless imagination.
'An unseen beauty is the most beautiful,' Master Mist Illusion had remarked.
Behind the beauty, within the flames, was a pair of eyes. Enormous, draconic eyes.
Rogue's full suit of silver plate armor itself held profound mysteries. Enhanced by three layers of magic, its physical defense was already exceptionally outstanding. After years of associating with noble degenerates, Fess experienced constant inspiration, and his alchemical skills had advanced by leaps and bounds, truly earning him the title of Master. How could this meticulously crafted full plate armor be anything less than remarkable?
Firstly, a seemingly decorative golden ivy pattern around the chest and collar was actually a magic array forged from pure adamantine. The magical symbols were etched on the reverse side of the golden lines, invisible from the surface. This array's function was to create a force field around the wearer equivalent to the "Enhanced Mage Armor" spell.
Secondly, during the forging process, Jin had incorporated a full jin of dark iron into the alloy, using his superb skill to distribute it evenly throughout the armor plates. The resulting plates were incredibly tough. Jin once had a Dragon and Beauty knight strike one such plate full force with an armor-piercing axe, resulting only in a shallow half-fen scratch and a slight dent.
That red feather Rogue had... acquired years ago was identified by Elexis's expert eye as actually being a tail feather from the flame magical beast, the Phoenix. However, Elexis's black flames were incompatible with this demonic fire, which was the only reason the feather wasn't appropriated. After Fess painstakingly consulted countless ancient texts, he finally managed to awaken the demonic flame power within the feather and seal it within the armor. Subsequently, the entire suit of armor turned a fiery red, with flames seemingly flowing continuously across its surface. Within three feet of the armor, the air was like a furnace, unbearable for man or beast. To counter this, Fess fused an extremely rare Tear of the Icy Abyss stone into mithril, applying it to the armor's outer layer. The Tear of the Icy Abyss possessed pure water-aligned energy, filtering out the radiating heat. After this, the armor returned to its ordinary silver appearance.
As for the armor's benefits, Rogue knew them well from personal experience. He himself took up an axe and delivered a powerful blow to one of the plates. Even the dark iron couldn't completely withstand his brute force, and the axe bit deep, nearly piercing through. But just as it was about to penetrate, a burst of flame energy erupted, deflecting the axe away, ultimately leaving the plate un-pierced. After about an hour, the plate actually repaired itself. After a few more taps from Fess's hammer, it was as good as new.
Another advantage was its rather antiquated and elegant style. Rogue forced Master Mist Illusion to engrave his name in a corner of one plate, thus establishing the armor as Mist Illusion's design work. Rogue's cunning plan was that if he ever fell on hard times, he could remove and sell that specific plate bearing Mist Illusion's name, guaranteeing at least a decade of luxurious living.
This suit of armor was made from incredibly rare materials, things that couldn't simply be bought with gold.
Rogue was exceedingly fond of this full suit of Paladin armor. Because it could regenerate after being damaged, he named it: "Samsara."
"Samsara" had nearly exhausted all the rare materials available to Hammer of the War God and could be considered priceless. After inspecting it, Ophirock commented, "If this armor could possess a soul, it would instantly become a divine artifact." Rogue immediately pricked up his ears at the word "soul." It couldn't be helped; Necromancers were all acutely sensitive to souls. The fatty initially wanted to ask how to give armor a soul but forcefully restrained himself.
Necromancy had techniques for sealing souls into objects or undead; strictly speaking, Fengyue was a product of such magic. However, as Fengyue's power grew, it gradually developed an independent consciousness, while other undead remained absolutely obedient to the mage. Thinking about it, while something like Divine Origin, that pure soul energy, was a one-time miracle, there were surely plenty of powerful souls in the world, right? When the opportunity arose later, he could slowly work on acquiring them.
Rogue's battle-axe was also no ordinary item. The shaft could be disassembled and reassembled; together it formed a long-handled battle-axe, separated it became a short axe and a short spear. The entire axe was forged from the highest quality deep blue adamantine steel. This deep blue adamantine steel was far harder and tougher than ordinary steel and contained a small amount of ice-aligned magical energy, having a slight calming effect on the mind. While far less precious and rare than dark iron, deep blue adamantine steel wasn't easy to come by either. Fortunately, some raw ore had been mined from the Cyrus Castle iron veins, allowing this axe to be forged. As for enhancements with dark iron and magic, those were essential. But even with the financial resources of Hammer of the War God, they could only afford to plate the exterior with a layer of dark iron.
The axe head was a simple, unadorned small crescent moon, without carvings or decorations. Being originally a short-handled battle-axe, the head wasn't particularly large. However, the entire axe was exceptionally heavy, three times heavier than the armor-piercing lance sold by Hammer of the War God back in the day! Only a monster like Rogue, with strength surpassing a half-orc's, could even lift it. Even so, Rogue needed to cast "Bull's Strength" to make it seem effortless and have energy to spare. Rogue's current mana level was only that of an eighth-level mage, but his magical control was exquisitely precise, allowing him to cast "Bull's Strength" up to seven times a day. Combined with the four "Bull's Strength" spells stored in his magic ring, it wasn't much of a problem for the fatty to maintain this magically enhanced state twenty-four hours a day if he wanted.
The axe's greatest mystery lay in a piece of supreme-grade black crystal embedded in the axe head. This crystal was said to originate from the deepest depths of the demon realm and could bind the souls of all the resentful. This was perfectly suited for Rogue; for a Necromancer, no number of souls was ever enough, and powerful souls were the more the better. Thus, the axe was named: "Soul Shackler."
The only pitiful one was the fatty's horse. In all fairness, it was a magnificent steed, if not quite a legendary thousand-mile charger, still quite rare. Unfortunately, the fatty, together with his axe, weighed as much as four men, pressing down on the poor horse unbearably along the journey. After running a few miles, it needed to rest.
The other degenerates didn't have many complaints about pouring the entire shop's resources into creating two near-divine artifact level pieces of equipment for Rogue. Firstly, Hammer of the War God was primarily Rogue's brainchild. Secondly, in combat, a mage's destructive potential far exceeded that of a warrior. With these two pieces of equipment, plus that inexplicable Fengyue, as long as he didn't face experts of level fifteen or above like David Roderick, Rogue was almost invincible in close combat. Of course, this referred to one-on-one situations. As for fighting against multiple opponents, that generally wouldn't happen to these degenerates. A mage who could cast spells undisturbed, even a rookie like Rogue at level eight, was absolutely an enemy's nightmare. Imagine "Ray of Enfeeblement," "Cause Fear," or "Contagion" spells being cast one after another. Even if one was strong and lucky enough to resist them all, it was still incredibly annoying.
Before Rogue's departure, Fess had already declared he would no longer craft equipment for him; from now on, he had to rely on himself. If he wanted something, he had to make it himself.
"As a disciple of a Master Alchemist, you can't even make the simplest magic ring? That's truly unacceptable."
Rogue could only respond with a sheepish heh-heh laugh. His brute strength was too great, and although he had grasped some secrets of psychic power application, his control over physical strength was still far from adequate. No matter what material a magic ring was made from, the fatty's single hammer strike would flatten it into a coin.
The party traveled for half a day, gradually entering the mountainous region. A gloomy forest slowly appeared before them, the main road cutting straight through it. At this moment, there were no merchant caravans ahead nor travelers behind, only this lone, small squad of knights.
Scanning with his psychic power, Rogue detected numerous hostile psychic energies hidden within the forest. However, those energies weren't very strong at all, inferior even to the most common zombies encountered in the Otherworld, perfectly suiting Rogue's preference for bullying the weak.
Just then, a sharp-featured, weasel-faced knight from "Dragon and Beauty" rode up and asked in a low voice, "Sir, I sense there might be an ambush ahead." Rogue was slightly surprised; it seemed his subordinates had capable individuals. This knight could sense the murderous intent in the forest, which was quite impressive. He turned and replied, "Correct, it seems there is an ambush. Now we'll see if the ambushers have the guts to show themselves. Tell the brothers to hang their money pouches out in the open!"
Unfortunately, prey also possessed a sense of danger.
Eleven lavishly equipped knights patrolled the forest road, constantly playing with their gold, silver, and jewels. They were only missing a large banner reading, "I'm rich, come rob me!"
The ambushers in the forest, peeking through leaves and grass, stared fixedly at those gold coins and treasures but lay prone, not daring to move a muscle, hoping the enemy would charge in and fall into their prepared traps. The bandit leader was quite clever, having laid many traps within the forest. If the robbery failed, they could retreat into the woods. If the enemy pursued, caught off guard, they would surely suffer greatly. This tactic had worked flawlessly in the past, but the leader, upon seeing Rogue, felt inexplicably creeped out, his hair standing on end, and refused to leave the forest no matter what.
Rogue waited for a long time, but the bandits didn't emerge. Furious, he cursed vehemently towards the forest. Then, he raised his battle-axe and chopped at a towering ancient tree by the roadside. After a few strokes, he cleared a smooth patch, reversed 'Soul Shackler,' and carved a line of large characters into the tree:
'No Bandit Traps Here'
After finishing the carving, he finally left, cursing and grumbling.
Half an hour later, a merchant caravan escorted by over fifty fully armed mercenaries arrived. Before entering the forest, a mercenary who appeared to be the leader rode up to the tree, carefully read the notice, and pondered for a moment. He ordered two ranger cavalry to scout the path ahead while the remaining mercenaries, with bows strung and blades drawn, advanced slowly.
Seeing such a formation, the bandits couldn't act rashly.
A while later, a small trade party arrived, saw the notice, and got a fright. Rogue's handwriting was truly awful; the more one looked, the more it seemed like the work of a mountain villager who had studied for a couple of days. The small trade party immediately decided to take a detour.
"Boss!" a bandit lying next to the leader whispered, "If we keep lying here like this, the brothers can't take it anymore. Why not send a couple of guys to scrape those words off?"
"Idiot! After following me for so long, you haven't improved at all! That fat pig knight is probably waiting for us to come out! Our lives are at risk, and you're still thinking about robbery? Tell the brothers, if you want to keep your lives, lie here until dark. No talking, no moving, relieve yourselves where you are. Now we can only rely on these traps around us!" After saying this, the leader pressed his ear to the ground, carefully listening for any movement around them.
Another hand tugged at the leader's trouser leg. The leader whispered angrily, "Didn't I tell you all to lie still?!" There was no answer from behind. The leader turned his head to the left and saw all his subordinates standing perfectly straight, motionless, their faces filled with fear as they stared at a point behind him. The leader then turned his head to the right and saw the fat pig knight smiling at him, casually leaning his battle-axe against a tree. The axe head immediately sank deep into the trunk. "I'm a bit plump, but 'fat' might be pushing it," the knight said.
The leader was utterly shocked, his vision darkening, nearly fainting on the spot. Fortunately, he had some quick wits about him. He threw himself to the ground, prostrating himself, and burst into loud sobs.
This crying fit left Rogue stunned. "What's wrong? Do you have aged parents above and a wife and children below?" he asked.
The leader shuddered, almost blurting out, "How did you know?" but swallowed the words at the last moment. His crying continued unabated as his mind raced. "This humble one was persecuted by treacherous officials, my whole family met with disaster! Thus, I had no choice but to turn to banditry here to survive!"
Rogue snorted, indicating disbelief. The man anxiously continued, "This humble one was orphaned at a young age, first lived under someone else's roof, then drifted displaced..."
The fatty pulled the axe from the tree. "...This humble one was captured by enemies as a child, endured years of torment..."
The great axe was raised high. "...This humble one has a shrew for a wife, couldn't bear the humiliation..."
A flash of axe light! "...This humble one graduated from the Imperial Military Academy!!!"
The axe came to a perfect stop right at the leader's neck. His face contorted, sweat pouring down profusely, as he hurriedly said, "This humble one graduated from the Dero Imperial Military Academy, oh... I dare not hide it from you, sir, I actually left half a year before graduating. Before graduation, during a military strategy exercise, just because I came from a poor family, I was ordered to lose to the young master of a Marquis. Later, feeling resentful, I drank a bit too much, encountered a young beauty on the road, and I... I knocked her out, dragged her to a secluded spot, and... had my way with her. Afterwards, I found out she was the sweetheart of that Marquis's son. I fled overnight, pursued by the Marquis's assassins all the way here. With no means of livelihood, I gathered a band of brothers and turned to banditry."
The leader spoke rapidly and urgently, his body remaining perfectly still. Given how the axe had sunk into the wood effortlessly, its sharpness was undeniable; he dared not move a muscle.
Rogue scrutinized the leader for a moment. He appeared to be in his late twenties, of medium height, and relatively handsome. His earlier ability to detect Rogue's counter-ambush showed some capability. More commendably, this band of bandits actually maintained strict discipline; this man had decent leadership skills. Thinking this, Rogue laughed heartily and said, "Your grandmother's, you expect me to believe this drunken ravishment nonsense? If the thought hadn't crossed your mind beforehand, no amount of drink would have made you do it!"
"Yes, yes. Your insight is profound, sir. Actually, this humble one knew exactly who that woman was all along. I was just too timid; I couldn't have done it without the liquor."
"Your grandmother's, alright then. From now on, you'll serve under me. What's your name?"
The leader, overwhelmed with gratitude, said, "This humble one is named Roblasky. Thank you for your cultivation, sir. To be able to follow a wise master like you is the fortune of three lifetimes, my family's gate—"
Rogue, finding this unbearably verbose, roared, "Shut up! If you keep spouting nonsensical flattery, my axe might slip. Have your brothers return to your camp to rest and reorganize. Tell them to lay low for now. You, come with me. Once I finish my business, if this lot hasn't been wiped out by then, I'll find a way to arrange something for them."
Under the afternoon sun, the party of knights set off once more. This time, however, the splendidly armored troop included one dressed as a mountain bandit, creating a rather discordant note. The man now followed closely beside Rogue, receiving instruction.
"In the future, when flattering, it must be just right, can't just spew it randomly. Your grandmother's, I still have some self-awareness. Your baseless flattery, how could it possibly please me? Hmm, right, about that incident after you drank back then, tell me the details now."
"Yes, yes. That day, this humble one drank a bit more for courage, then lay in ambush on the path that little girl always took..."
Ancient trees, the setting sun. The figures of the knights stretched long shadows, gradually fading into the distance.
Before long, the sun dipped towards the western hills. The travel-weary knights glimpsed a small town in the distance. The town wasn't large, seeming to house only about three thousand people, but located near a vital communication route, it had quite a few inns and taverns. The townsfolk appeared relatively prosperous. A large merchant caravan had just arrived, its escort consisting of a full two hundred mercenaries. Based on their uniforms and banners, an experienced knight informed Rogue that this was a caravan escorted by the 'Hundred Battles Mercenary Group,' a major outfit from the Ronen Duchy.
Without Rogue needing to order, his subordinate knights picked the largest tavern, entered, and secured two tables. The tavern was already packed with mercenaries and some prominent figures from the caravan. When Rogue's group entered, everyone looked up. Seeing they were a regular knight order, no one wanted to pick a fight.
These large caravans and mercenary groups operating across kingdoms were full of desperadoes, and Rogue wasn't keen on stirring up trouble unnecessarily. After years in business, he was more interested in seeing if there was any opportunity for mutual profit with this caravan.
No sooner had Rogue sat down than he felt two intense gazes fixed upon him. A woman suddenly stood up and shouted, "Heaven has eyes! Finally, I've encountered you, you damned pig!"
The woman had golden hair tied back, a lovely face with a wild demeanor, around twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, tall, wearing the Hundred Battles Mercenary Group's standard earth-yellow half-chainmail, with a massive greatsword beside her. It was Keevey! Rogue looked at her. Compared to three years ago, she had lost some of her former innocence, gaining maturity, resilience, and an indescribable quality. Her skin was slightly tanned, likely from the rough life of a mercenary.
Seeing Rogue not panicking but instead staring at her intently, Keevey's anger flared. If it weren't for this fatso's despicable and shameless tactics, traps, and poison three years ago, how could she have fallen into his hands, leading to her brother's death? With a 'shing,' Keevey drew her greatsword, ready to charge and fight.
Seeing the situation turning sour, the Dragon and Beauty knights immediately grabbed their weapons, overturned two tables as barricades, and everyone aimed a three-bolt hand crossbow at the Hundred Battles mercenaries and merchants.
"Keevey, stop!" A square-jawed middle-aged mercenary in his thirties grabbed Keevey. She struggled fiercely a few times, but the hand didn't budge an inch. "Let me go! Daur, I must kill that fat pig today!" The mercenary called 'Daur' frowned. Seeing he couldn't quite hold her back, he pulled her into an embrace and shouted, "Keevey, calm down! What exactly happened?"
Keevey cried out, "That fat pig, he... he caused my brother's death! He's the one responsible for the destruction of the Sword and Blood Rose Mercenary Group!"
"Is that so?" The middle-aged mercenary, upon hearing this, hugged Keevey lovingly, but his gaze, sharp as a blade, locked onto Rogue. "Sir Knight, I believe you need to provide me with an explanation for this matter!"
"Hahaha!" Rogue laughed. "Are you ordering me? You, a mercenary from the Ronen Duchy, ordering a Knight Regiment Captain within the borders of the Lyon Alliance? And if I refuse to give you an explanation, respected Mr. Daur? Will you then arrest me with your two hundred mercenaries? But don't forget, this town has quite a few people, and we are over five hundred li deep into Lyon Alliance territory. Do you think you can escape safely back to the Ronen Duchy? Fine, even if you, with your formidable skills, could escape, how many of your two hundred subordinates would make it back? For the sake of a woman, would you sacrifice the lives of two hundred of your men?"
Hearing this, Daur said, "My subordinates are as important as my own life. And my wife, Keevey, I will protect her with my life, ensure her happiness. If you cannot provide a reasonable explanation, I will challenge you to a duel as a fellow warrior. I trust a knight would not refuse a reasonable request for a duel?"
"In your dreams! Our Lord has important duties, a high status. A random mercenary like you can't just demand a duel or an explanation whenever you feel like it! Heh heh, why don't you go challenge the Lyon Alliance Minister of Military Affairs, Roderick, to a duel? He's a knight too. Or why not challenge Sword Saint Prothesis? Is it because you're afraid you can't win, so you don't challenge them? So, you only challenge Lord Rogue because you're confident you can defeat him! Is this a duel? This is murder! What 'fellow warrior' status? I spit on it!"
The newly recruited Roblasky was not only skilled at flattery but also sharp-tongued and articulate. This torrent of words, rapid-fire and logically sound, left Daur utterly ashamed.
Daur stood stunned for a moment before saying, "This gentleman speaks sense. I was inconsiderate. However, no matter what, I absolutely cannot let Keevey suffer injustice! Alright then, if I am in the wrong in this matter, I, Daur, will submit to Sir Rogue's judgment. If Sir Rogue is in the wrong, please agree to my duel request. The time, place, and manner can be chosen by Sir Rogue!"
"No!" Keevey cried out. "That fat pig is despicable and low, he'll use any means! Don't agree to anything! Let me go! Today I must kill him! I'll take full responsibility for everything!"
"This... ah, no, Miss Kee... I mean, it's Mrs. Daur now, isn't it? Hehe, how foolish of me, I should address you as Mrs. Daur." Rogue said with a smile. Seeing Rogue's smile, Keevey felt a chill from the bottom of her heart. Hearing him call her 'Keevey' slightly eased her mind, and she couldn't help but glance worriedly at Daur. Rogue noted all these subtle changes in her expression.
"Mrs. Daur, your brother didn't die by my hand, did he? If I recall correctly, he fell to the Lyon City Defense Force? As for the reason, do I really need to spell it out?" Rogue's tone gradually turned stern.
Upon hearing this, several of the caravan leaders immediately frowned. One elderly man questioned Daur: "Mr. Daur, the Hundred Battles Mercenary Group, under your command, is entrusted by us to ensure our safe passage to the southern ports of the Lyon Alliance, not to pick fights. Especially not conflicts involving the capital's army! And this wife of yours... is there perhaps some issue with her background? You are surely aware that our Clark Merchant Association has always had an impeccable reputation. We would never entrust a mission to mercenaries with any blemished record. Regarding this matter, I believe you owe me an explanation first. Otherwise, we will have to file a complaint with your Guild Master, or perhaps propose that the Duchy's Merchant Association sever all ties with the Hundred Battles Mercenary Group!"
Merchant associations were the biggest clients for mercenary groups. If the Ronen Duchy's merchant associations severed ties with the Hundred Battles Mercenary Group, the group would have no choice but to disband. Daur had been raised by the Guild Master of the Hundred Battles Mercenary Group since childhood; their bond was like father and son. The mercenary group was the old Guild Master's life's work. How could he let it be destroyed under his watch? But Keevey... could he just stand by and do nothing while her enemy was right here?
Daur was caught in an extremely difficult position, his heart torn. Rogue, meanwhile, stood by, smiling silently.