That deserter...
No.
He was not a deserter.
This thought flashed through Robb Stark's mind.
A deserter would not have such eyes!
He was a true warrior!
Lynn's chest heaved violently from his rapid breathing.
But his sword-wielding hand remained steady!
A Bandit Leader with a bushy beard let out a bestial roar, breaking the brief silence.
"What the hell are you all afraid of!"
"They're on horseback, we can't escape, so let's fight them to the death!"
"Go on, at least take one with you!"
Fear was replaced by a more primal ferocity, and the remaining bandits stirred again.
Some of them had also figured it out.
This man in black seemed to be a greater threat, a tough opponent, but the continuous fighting had pushed him close to his limit.
As long as two people surrounded him, two fists could not contend with four hands; no matter how strong a person was, they could not last long.
Robb, seeing the bandits' intention, roared, trying to lead his men closer to Lynn.
"Stop them!"
Seeing Robb give orders, another wave of bandits immediately understood who the leader of this group was.
They changed direction, attacking Robb and his men from the flank as if their lives depended on it, forcing Robb to engage them.
Lynn's eyes narrowed.
He hadn't expected to be noticed after all.
Well.
Killing three people so cleanly, it would be hard not to be noticed.
Lynn leaned his back against a thick pine tree.
This way, he only needed to face enemies from the front and sides.
Robb and his men drew the attention of most of the bandits, greatly reducing the pressure on Lynn.
A bandit charged first, his long-handled axe whistling as it chopped down towards Lynn's head.
Lynn did not meet it head-on.
He slid his feet, his body pressed against the tree trunk, narrowly dodging the axe blade.
Wood chips flew.
The axe was deeply embedded in the tree trunk.
This was the opening!
Lynn twisted his wrist, and the longsword moved from bottom to top.
"Pfft!"
The sword tip deftly sliced open the bandit's unprotected throat.
Blood gushed out, leaving a shocking red stain on the grayish-white tree trunk.
Killed Bandit x1, Experience Points +1
Before that corpse could fall, another bandit's scimitar swept in, aiming directly for Lynn's waist and abdomen.
Lynn twisted his body and swung his sword to parry.
"Clang!"
Metal clashed, and sparks flew.
Just as he parried, a bandit suddenly appeared and lunged from the side.
He had no proper weapon, just a sharpened wooden stick, but he viciously thrust it towards Lynn's ribs.
There was no retreat.
In the nick of time.
"Whoosh!"
A stray arrow flew through the air, accurately piercing the eye socket of the bandit holding the stick.
The scream ceased abruptly.
The bandit's body stiffened for a moment, then softly collapsed.
Lynn's attention was drawn to the attacking bandit, and the bandit whose scimitar Lynn had parried grinned ferociously and raised his blade again.
The blade flashed, and Lynn dodged as much as he could, but only managed to turn sideways.
A tearing pain shot through his left shoulder.
His clothes were ripped open, flesh peeled back, and blood instantly stained half of his body.
Lynn grunted, staggering.
The intense pain stimulated his nerves but did not make him lose his composure.
Instead, it ignited the ferocity deep within him.
He did not retreat; instead, he used the momentum of his stumble to violently lunge forward.
He slammed his shoulder hard into the bandit's chest.
The bandit hadn't expected him to be so daring after being injured.
Caught off guard, he was knocked back several steps.
Lynn's sword moved.
A simple, direct upward slash.
"Rip!"
Without iron armor to protect him, the sword's edge sliced across the bandit's abdomen, moving upwards until it split open his chest.
Organs mixed with blood gushed onto the ground.
The ferocious grin on the bandit's face froze. He looked down at his empty abdominal cavity, his eyes filled with disbelief and despair.
Killed Bandit x1, Experience Points +1
Seeing that he was injured, Lynn no longer tried to act tough and headed towards the edge of the battlefield.
"Roar!"
Robb Stark's roar echoed.
The young Robb was now completely bloodthirsty.
He had fully ignited the Wolf's Blood within him.
He no longer adhered to the sword fighting techniques taught by his master.
Though still young, every one of his swings was filled with power.
Wide and sweeping, carrying the unique wildness of the North.
One bandit had his arm severed by Robb's sword, screaming as he fell to the ground.
Another bandit, man and shield alike, was cut down by his sword.
The tide of the battle, due to the outburst of Lynn and Robb, began to shift rapidly.
The Bandit Leader watched, his eyes splitting with rage. He abandoned his entanglement with the Stark guardsmen and made to flee.
But in the process, he happened to encounter Lynn, who was also trying to move away.
Seeing Lynn injured, the Bandit Leader roared, brandishing a blood-stained Two-Handed Greatsword, and charged straight at Lynn.
Before he even arrived, a strong stench of blood and sweat assailed Lynn.
The axe blade stirred up a foul wind, chopping down with a crash.
Lynn did not dodge.
He was exhausted now, and no matter how he dodged, he couldn't escape the attack range of a long-handled weapon.
He bent his knees slightly, lowered his center of gravity, and held his longsword horizontally in front of him.
"Clang!"
A loud sound.
Lynn used the thickest part of his sword to parry, deflecting the deadly axe to his side.
The immense impact made his arms tremble violently.
The wound on his shoulder tore open again, and the pain made his vision blur.
A hint of surprise flashed in the Bandit Leader's eyes, quickly turning to cruelty.
He exerted force with his wrist, pressing down on the axe, wanting to completely crush this stubborn fellow.
But Lynn's goal was achieved.
His block had bought him an opportunity to get close to the opponent's body.
Lynn suddenly released his left hand from the sword, and his body turned to the right with the momentum.
His right elbow, like a cannonball, slammed hard into the Bandit Leader's ribs.
"Crack!"
The crisp sound of bones shattering.
The Bandit Leader let out a painful groan, his massive body momentarily stiffening from the intense pain.
At the same time, Robb, unwilling to let the Bandit Leader escape, had also arrived, thrusting his longsword forward.
"Thud!"
The longsword plunged in up to the hilt, accurately piercing the Bandit Leader's chest.
Fearing Robb would steal his kill, Lynn quickly picked up the longsword from the ground and plunged it into the bandit's eye socket.
Killed Bandit Leader x1, Experience Points +2
The fierce light in the Bandit Leader's eyes quickly dimmed.
Lynn violently pulled out his longsword.
The tall bandit instantly lost all signs of life.
"It actually gave two experience points?"
'It seems the stronger the opponent, the more experience points they give. But it looks like he wasn't particularly strong, otherwise, he wouldn't have only given two experience points.'
'Then, if I killed a strong person like Jaime, or a Wight, white walkers, or even the Night King, how much experience would I gain?'
'Of course, I could also choose to slaughter a large number of civilians to gain experience.'
'However, if I really did that, without a powerful backer, there would probably be no place for me in all of Westeros.'
With the death of their leader, the remaining few bandits completely collapsed.
They threw down their weapons, crying and scattering in all directions.
What awaited them were the cold blades of the Stark guardsmen and Theon's deadly arrows.
The battle was over.
Silence returned to the forest.
Only the crackling of the burning bonfire and the groans of injured guardsmen remained.
Lynn leaned against the battle-scarred pine tree, slowly sliding to the ground.
The longsword in his hand clattered onto the snow.
He was trembling all over.
Not from fear, but from exhaustion.
The wound on his shoulder was still bleeding, and the bruised ribs sent waves of excruciating pain through him.
Every breath pulled at his injuries, making him feel as if he would faint.
His vision began to blur.
A pair of mud-splattered boots stopped in front of him.
Lynn struggled to lift his head.
It was Robb Stark.
The young The Young Wolf's face still bore traces of unvanquished killing intent, but his blue eyes were filled with complex emotions.
Shock, confusion, and a hint of... admiration.
"You..."
Robb opened his mouth but didn't know what to say.
He looked at the corpses around Lynn, then at Lynn's terrible wounds.
Any words seemed pale and powerless at this moment.
"Hullen!"
Robb turned his head and shouted at a guardsman.
"Come here! Dress his wounds!"
Theon Greyjoy also walked over.
He put away his longbow and knelt down.
Looking at the deep, bone-revealing wound on Lynn's shoulder, all traces of his previous mockery were gone.
With his wounds and blood, he had earned the recognition of Robb and Theon.
In his line of sight, the blue panel that only he could see quietly floated.