Guilliman's sudden appearance on the battlefield silenced the atmosphere for a moment.
His tall and burly figure, arrogant and confident demeanor, a high-grade dragon-skin armor that clearly wasn't cheap, and the title of a Witcher, made everyone present look at him with respect, knowing that he was definitely not someone to be trifled with.
Perhaps in the hearts of many northern commoners,
Witchers are dirty freaks, disgusting mutants, and Outliers different from humans.
But anyone with normal intelligence, even a three-year-old child, knew that Witchers were master swordsmen capable of fighting terrifying monsters; at least in terms of strength, no one dared to underestimate a Witcher.
Of course, excluding some mentally deficient fools.
The moment they saw the Witcher Guilliman appear, many people's eyes lit up, and hope rekindled in their hearts.
At least compared to those untrustworthy bandits, Witchers were definitely good people who kept their promises.
Fat merchant Leuvaarden, as the president of the Merchants' Guild, rich enough to rival a nation, actually didn't care about that small amount of money, and as the head of Nilfgaardian spies, lurking in the Kingdom of Temeria, he was by no means a timid or weak person.
However, to maintain his disguise, Leuvaarden took out a silk handkerchief, somewhat troubled, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and tentatively called out to Guilliman:
"Mr. Witcher, six hundred orens is still a bit too much."
"How about this, I'll give you four hundred orens as payment, plus a bottle of Toussaint's fine wine, what do you say?"
"Among the goods I brought this time, there are many bottles of Toussaint's fine wine, mellow and delicious, absolutely worth more than its price."
"If you buy in bulk, there's even a twenty percent discount."
Guilliman chuckled at his words.
Toussaint's fine wine was indeed good; he had heard those drunkards talk about it many times, but he had never tasted it himself.
He was just about to haggle when the group of Fire Lizard Gang bandits couldn't stand it anymore. A bald, bearded bandit leader yelled at Guilliman.
"You son of a bitch Witcher, you think too little of us."
"You want to take on all fifteen of us by yourself."
"Do you think we're stray dogs by the roadside?"
"Damn it, I think you're looking for death. I'm going to cut off your head and use it as a urinal tonight."
After speaking, he charged forward with three or four other bandits. As for the others, they remained in place, guarding against the civilians and the caravan.
Seeing the situation split into two groups suited Guilliman perfectly.
He was too lazy to haggle further, so he drew his Viper steel sword. To avoid accidentally injuring his precious mount, he leaped directly from his horse, while simultaneously rapidly accumulating magic in his left hand, unleashing an Igni Sign directly at them.
Because the fighting style of Witchers was little known, and many people didn't even know Witchers could use Signs, it often achieved unexpected and triumphant results.
This time was no different.
The bandit leader, with a few of his brothers, thought that with their bravery and numerical advantage, they could intimidate the Witcher opposite them.
However, when they charged over, what greeted them was scorching flames.
The flames, covering several meters in front of them, possessed immense destructive power, instantly igniting their clothes and hair, setting them ablaze.
Although Igni's flames did not have the effect of melting steel, the high temperature of several hundred degrees Celsius caused extreme pain to the flesh.
After being set on fire, several bandits quickly lost their combat ability, only able to roll on the ground, clutching their burning bodies, trying to extinguish the intense heat on them.
Unfortunately, these were just fantasies. The Witcher, coming to finish them off, gave them no chance to stand up again, ruthlessly slitting their throats or stabbing his blade into their hearts.
In just a dozen seconds, he had eliminated the four enemies who had tried to attack him.
However, what surprised Guilliman next was that after he quickly dealt with four bandits and then, using his exquisite swordsmanship, easily killed two more bandits amidst the encirclement of seven or eight robbers—
This group of Fire Lizard Gang bandits actually fled with a speed that even he found hard to react to, scattering in all directions and making a swift escape.
What the hell, was it that serious?
Didn't you still have more than half of your men? Why did you run away? Keep fighting!
Guilliman complained inwardly, but his face remained calm and composed. He used an enemy's corpse to wipe the blood from his Viper steel sword, then looked at the crowd with a serene expression.
But thinking about it, it made sense.
In previous battles, he always initiated sneak attacks, eliminating all enemies before they could even react, giving them no chance to escape.
Reality isn't a game; when casualties reach one-third, a complete collapse of the front line usually occurs.
They were just a group of gang members who had transformed from hooligans; expecting them to have the courage to fight to the last man was asking too much of them.
Guilliman chuckled to himself, then looked at the fat merchant Leuvaarden in the crowd, rubbed his fingers together, making a gesture for money, and said:
"The commission is complete, Mr. Leuvaarden, it's time to pay me my reward."
"Just so you know, I've had several precedents of eliminating employers who tried to renege on payments, you know!"
"You should think carefully before making your choice."
Leuvaarden's disguised persona was not that of a brave merchant, and upon hearing the Witcher's threat, all the fat on his body trembled with fear.
He feigned difficulty, glanced left and right at his guards, then reluctantly pulled out four hundred orens in gold coins, and a bottle of what appeared to be a high-end red wine, handing them to Guilliman.
Before leaving, he still made a very insincere self-introduction and invited Guilliman to the dock where he was located, saying he wanted to hire him to clear monsters from the dock.
Vizima hadn't been visited by a Witcher in several years. Although it had an army guarding it, many monsters had bred in places the army couldn't reach, and the help of a Witcher was urgently needed.
Guilliman nodded, promising to go and check it out soon, then watched the caravan depart.
As for the childless commoners, they had already slipped away while he was chatting with the fat merchant Leuvaarden, not even leaving a word of thanks.
They seemed very afraid of getting caught up in the feud between the Fire Lizard Gang and the Witcher.
Now, only the little boy Alvin, his adoptive mother Kalomi, and the young medical student Shani remained here.
They hadn't left simply to express their gratitude to the Witcher.
If Guilliman hadn't appeared, Shani, Alvin, and Kalomi would most likely have had to fight for their lives.
After all, whether it was the beautiful young woman, the young married woman, or the child Alvin, if they had fallen into the hands of the Fire Lizard Gang, who knows what tragic fate awaited them.
Perhaps in their hearts, they were also marveling at their good fortune, the favor of the Goddess of Destiny.
However, similar to their feelings, when Guilliman introduced himself and met the three people in front of him, he couldn't help but feel a touch of emotion.
The gears of destiny might truly have begun to turn, making things unpredictable.
Whether it was the red-haired girl Shani in front of him, or the little boy Alvin, who possessed the Elder Blood by birth.
They were supposed to be important characters who would appear a year later, according to the game's plot.
How did they meet him, a Witcher outside of destiny, so soon?