After leaving Ammonite Village, Guilliman felt a bit of a sense of loss.
Although rural life was a bit monotonous, with the beautiful elf Valesa for company and no lack of fine wine and food, it was quite pleasant.
Unfortunately, the number of monsters in an area is always limited. After his sweeping extermination, the number of monsters around Ammonite Village had significantly decreased, and some had even begun to flee.
Counting the monsters hunted over the following period, along with the ten Salamandra souls he had digested, his soul power had recovered to over nine hundred points, just dozens short of the one-thousand-point "Soul Power Surplus Line."
Guilliman wasn't in a hurry to upgrade his skills; anyway, he was about to reach the city of Vizima.
Once he entered this major city, several high-quality clubs and a large number of beautiful female technicians would be waiting for his patronage. The progress of his soul's sublimation would surely increase significantly.
If soul rank advancement also required a large amount of soul power as nourishment, it would be better to be prepared.
Thinking this, Guilliman rode the tall horse he had named Eggplant, galloping along the road to Vizima.
He set off in the afternoon, and as dusk approached, under the glow of the setting sun, he arrived near the outskirts of Vizima.
This was his second time here.
Last time he came, he had not only secretly killed the old priest of the Eternal Fire and tossed his decapitated body into the wilderness.
He also happened to wipe out an important Salamandra base, obtaining expensive supplies worth over ten thousand orens.
At this moment, there was still a batch of weapons and equipment hidden in a secret location outside the town, waiting for him to choose the next buyer.
Guilliman had originally thought that passing through here this time would be a peaceful night, allowing him to enjoy the lively atmosphere of a country inn.
However, to his surprise, just as he rode past the crossroads leading to the country inn, he noticed something was wrong with the atmosphere.
The suburban village, which had some life when he last visited, now had no pedestrians in sight. Most residents even had their doors tightly shut, peeking out through windows as if avoiding something dangerous.
Guilliman was puzzled but didn't take it too seriously.
He continued riding, intending to reach that memorable country inn to stay for the night before the sun went down.
Suddenly, he heard a lot of noisy sounds coming from the roadside ahead.
There were shouts, sounds of fighting, crying, and several arrogant voices trying to persuade others to surrender.
"Put down your weapons and hand over the child."
"As long as you hand over that child and the money on you, this lord will let you go."
"Yeah, yeah! Don't even think about running."
"We have twice as many people as you. At this time of day, no guards will show up here at all."
"Hahaha, Fat Logan is right."
"Even if a few guards who aren't afraid to die show up, so what? They're no match for us Salamandra."
Salamandra?
Truly a ragtag bunch. Before Guilliman even got close, they had already revealed their identity; they were practically asking for death.
Guilliman rode on and soon saw the two groups facing off in the distance.
One group was a gang of about fifteen armed bandits.
The other was a civilian party of about ten people, centered around a merchant caravan, including several civilians—nine adults and one child.
However, perhaps the identity of Salamandra was too intimidating for the suburban villagers.
Upon hearing the bandits reveal themselves, a fat merchant in the crowd, dressed ostentatiously and wearing much jewelry, immediately shouted:
"Please don't attack us, gentlemen of Salamandra."
"I am Declan Leuvaarden, the chairman of the Merchants' Guild. I am protected by the guild; if you harm me, the army will come to wipe you out."
"I am willing to hand over three hundred orens as a toll and will not let my guards fight you, as long as you let us and the goods go."
"As for those civilians, I have nothing to do with them. How you deal with them is your business."
Whether out of fear of Salamandra or the merchant's philosophy of self-preservation, after the bandits revealed their identity, the fat merchant Leuvaarden disregarded the lives of the civilians and quickly chose to compromise.
As the backbone of the group, upon hearing their boss's order, the caravan guards surrounding the goods also stopped fighting and returned to the fat merchant's side, seemingly unwilling to get involved.
Seeing this, the morale of the few civilians without children also plummeted. Any thought of resistance they might have had was now extinguished by the harsh reality.
Their eyes turned toward the only woman with a child, a young lady named Caroline; their gaze was apologetic yet persuasive.
It seemed they were urging her to hand over the child to ensure everyone's safety.
However, not everyone in this group was a coward.
Seeing everyone's cowardly attitude, a young medical student about eighteen or nineteen years old with short red hair stood in front of the only child, holding a short sword in one hand and a vial of unknown medicine in the other.
She gritted her teeth, her beautiful face flushed with anger, and glared at the fat merchant, cursing:
"Mr. Leuvaarden, you are truly a coward."
"How can we adults hand over a child to kidnappers? Won't your conscience be condemned?"
After saying this, the girl turned to the little boy who was holding back tears and the child's foster mother, who was pretending to be strong, and said softly:
"Lady Caroline, Alvin."
"After I throw the vial, you two run quickly toward the inn."
"There are mercenaries guarding it. Once you run inside, these bandits shouldn't dare to chase you anymore."
"Remember to run fast. If you get caught by them, it will be truly dangerous."
The little boy named Alvin was quite a strong child; he didn't cry even in such a scene.
He nodded and looked at the medical student who had been protecting him with worry, saying solemnly:
"Thank you, Big Sister Shani. You must stay safe too."
A strained smile appeared on Shani's face, but she pushed through her fear and said to the boy:
"Don't worry, Alvin."
"I participated in the Battle of Brenna last year. I survived such a massive event; why would I be afraid of these bandits?"
Merchant Leuvaarden ignored Shani's insults and continued to discuss the terms of surrender loudly with the Salamandra bandits.
While the medical girl and the boy Alvin finished their conversation and were preparing for a desperate struggle...
A knight wearing Dark Brown Dragon-skin Armor, riding a tall horse, handsome and stalwart but with a somewhat flippant voice, suddenly rode into the battlefield, chuckled, and said:
"Hey, hey, hey! Mr. Leuvaarden over there, since you like solving problems with money so much..."
"How about this: if you just give me six hundred orens, I'll help you take out these bandits. What do you think?"
"Better to trust me than those bandits."
"I am a Witcher, after all. My reputation is guaranteed."