Bernie’s eyes were glazed over, and his old linen clothes were covered in dirt.
Even though the water ghost that almost ripped his throat open was dead, his hand was still stiffly clutching his hunting knife.
Lann had to force his fingers open and take the knife from his hand as he tried to get up, to prevent him from hurting himself.
Facing life and death brings a heavy mental impact, and Lann was familiar with this feeling.
It was not until the young man pulled his sword from the water ghost’s corpse, looking painfully at the chipped blade, that Bernie regained his senses.
He breathed heavily, staggered towards Lann, and hugged the dazed demon hunter.
"Thank you... really, thank you."
"Thank you for saving my life. I can’t imagine what my family would do without me. Tessa is still so young, he can’t protect his mother... I..."
Maybe some would maliciously speculate about a hug between men.
But at this moment, Bernie’s gratitude was sincere.
This gratitude stemmed from the fear of the recent scene and the dread of his family’s future without him.
So when a man is in such a mood, choking up and hugging Lann.
The young demon hunter could only gently pat his shoulder.
"Lann, I’ll fix your sword for you. I’ll use the best wood, wrap it in Auridon’s finest fish skin, and make the best scabbard!"
"Thank you... thank you."
Bernie released his grip, picking up the young man’s silver sword as he solemnly promised.
Lann waved with a smile.
"I’ll accept the scabbard, but not the sword. Let Ivan handle it. It’s wear and tear from the task, and you shouldn’t bear it alone."
"Come on, there shouldn’t be any danger nearby. You’ve got some scratches from the water ghost on your hand, you’d better clean them quickly. Who knows what dirty things those beasts’ claws have touched. You said this place is near Midkops? Let’s go there to rest first."
Bernie opened his mouth, looking at his long leather gloves, which were nearly torn apart by the water ghost’s claws.
Under the gloves, his flesh was mangled, but just having escaped combat, his adrenaline levels were still high, and he didn’t feel pain for the time being.
If not for these gloves, his hand would probably now show the finger bones.
After identifying the direction, Bernie, who knew the way, led the two out of the battle towards Midkops Village.
An area wouldn’t have two groups of strong predators.
The water ghost group just cleared by Lann already held sway in the vicinity, and the closer they got to human settlements, the less frequent monster activity would be.
So the two were safe on this journey.
"Just now, did you use... magic?" Bernie asked, holding his wounded hand, sweating as he walked ahead.
He was starting to feel the pain now, speaking partly to distract himself and partly out of genuine curiosity.
"Demon hunters can really use magic?!"
Lann, having recovered quite a bit, knew it was hard for him now, so while staying vigilant, he casually responded.
"It was just a magic seal, a trick."
"A trick? But you unleashed such a huge fireball! It burned ten monsters to death! I swear I heard the screams of at least ten monsters!"
Lann’s tone was slightly helpless.
"Only five... How should I explain it to you?"
"That fire whirlwind is a rare occurrence, I calculated positioning, terrain, temperature, humidity—it’s not like the forest has chaotic air currents interfering, so I could use Alder’s Rune to create the wind I wanted..."
Lann paused, looking at Bernie’s puzzled expression.
Resigned, he said, "Just imagine there was a skilled crossbowman, he picked out the finest military crossbow, adjusted the sights, pulled the bowstring, and I simply pulled the trigger. The magic seal is just a ’trigger’."
Bernie was silent for a while and then tentatively asked.
"Are you saying... you’re blessed by the gods?"
Lann took a deep breath, lips trembling, unsure of what to say.
He decided to let Bernie deal with his pain.
Bernie’s knowledge of the local geography was trustworthy.
As he led the way, it took little effort for the two to walk out of the woods.
Not far in their line of sight, a group of houses made of thatched grass and planks was calmly nestled on a large stretch of open land.
Midkops, a notable large village and resting place for travelers in Velen.
"Come on, Lann, I have a few friends here who might even treat us to a few drinks after seeing my miserable state."
Seeing Bernie’s face twisted white from pain, Lann nodded.
"Yeah, you really need a strong drink."
As they continued towards the village, just about a hundred meters from the entrance, Lann’s ears twitched slightly.
He stopped Bernie from going further.
"What are you doing?"
Bernie asked, a bit confused, but the next second, the sound of fierce hoofbeats came from the village.
A dozen horses, with hooves flying, kicking up mud and cow dung from the fields.
Once these dozen riders reached the two, surrounding them and circling, Bernie raised his injured hand slightly, indicating his harmlessness.
Having left the forest, the two were powerless against a dozen riders.
The stench of horse sweat mixed with the smell of muck from horse hooves, and being encircled by the riders made the scent overwhelming.
But in this situation, any normal intelligence wouldn’t act recklessly.
"Who are you? Where did you come from? What are you doing here?"
Among the riders, the leader asked, his tone aggressive.
To avoid the possibility of discrimination against demon hunters, Lann kept his eyes lowered, only glancing at the leader as he rushed in.
These men wore Temerian standard armor, but the leader was different from ordinary soldiers; his underlayer chainmail was a hooded style. His armor had a palm-sized small shield on the left chest, bearing the Temerian White Lily crest.
Simply put, it was more advanced.
This man’s physique seemed somewhere between robust and overweight, appearing to be someone who could fight.
A red nose, heavy smell of liquor... an alcoholic?
Bernie was just a village hunter; he had seen the lord’s riders but wasn’t surrounded by them , leaving him speechless.
Meanwhile, the young man, thinking calmly, responded methodically.
"In what capacity are you interrogating me, honorable sir?"
The implicit meaning was to inquire about the other’s authority to enforce the law; a hundred meters away was a large village—unless they killed everyone there, what happened here would reach the lord’s ears today.
If it was soldiers doing this for personal gain, they would realize to stop when things went this far, not being too excessive.
Yet this seemingly drunken leader didn’t seem to care.
He turned to his companions, laughingly cursing loudly.
"Plague be damned, lads! This boy surrounded by eleven riders dares to ask what position I hold?!"
After the laughter and curses, the leader pulled the reins to stop his horse right in front of the two.
He leaned forward, resting his arm on the saddle.
"Coincidentally, I also prefer direct talk."
"I am Sergeant Philip Strong, loyal to Sir Viserad of Velen, currently ordered to investigate a heinous murder in Dunham."
When the word ’Dunham’ was uttered, Lann showed no reaction, but Bernie, who had been silent, widened his eyes first.
He exclaimed incredulously: "Dunham? By Meretelli! What reckless bastard would commit such misdeeds there?!"
His surprise and disbelief seemed to overshadow his injury.
But the response he got wasn’t an answer; it was the continuous sound of ten swords being drawn.
Except for Philip, his subordinates all pointed their swords at the two.
"Dunham is only half a day’s journey from here, and you, two suspicious and injured individuals, appeared here."
"Gentlemen, you’re quite suspect."
Bernie was already at a loss for words.
But Lann sighed and lifted his head.