“Lackeys!”

The one who’d been raising objections was a young man of about eighteen or nineteen — the youngest member of the group, at the age when blood ran hottest.

The moment he saw this outrageous and heartrending scene, fury erupted in him.

He sprinted straight toward the couple being set upon by the construct beasts, intending to pull them free.

In a moment like this, with his blood surging, he had no capacity left for reason — let alone for thinking through the consequences.

A shadow moved faster than he did, tackling him to the ground before he’d covered even half the distance. The young mercenary hit the dirt in astonishment, having never imagined resistance would come from behind him. When he twisted around, his shock deepened — the one who’d stopped him was the captain he’d always admired most.

“Why?” The young mercenary was so worked up the words barely came out, his voice barely a sound.

The captain should have supported him.

No — the captain should have moved even faster than him, should have been the one to step forward and pull that suffering couple free of the constructs.

Instead, not only had the captain failed to do that, he’d stopped his own man from doing it. What possible justification was there? Was this really the captain he’d always respected? Was this really the man whose mother had trusted with her son’s life? If someone could turn coward and flinch away at the moment of life and death, what right did they have to call themselves a mercenary? More importantly — faced with something this universally condemnable, who wouldn’t be moved? Who could stand there and do nothing?

The young mercenary scrambled back to his feet, tears streaming down his face, his voice cracking into a near-shriek as he stared at the captain: “Why? Why?!”

The captain gave no answer. He simply shoved the young man back into the group.

“Don’t touch me!”

The young mercenary suddenly cried out with everything he had: “You’re the captain, you have things to consider that I don’t. But I’m just an ordinary mercenary. I don’t have your obligations. I’m going to save those people right now, and I’m asking no one to stop me. If anyone tries, I’m done with them — I will save those people no matter what. Even if it kills me. I will not stand here and watch those animals tear a family of three to pieces. Watching a human life in danger and doing nothing is the first rule of conduct a mercenary violates — have all of you forgotten that?”

Crack.

The captain’s palm came across the young mercenary’s face hard enough to send him stumbling.

The young mercenary pressed a hand to his cheek, his expression blazing as he faced the captain: “That’s the last time you ever hit me. Don’t concern yourself with me again. We’re not the same kind of people. You do your captaining. I’ll save the people I need to save. We’re done.”

“Think about your blind mother. Think about your little sister. Think about your brother’s infant child, left behind when he died. If you bring this kind of catastrophe down on yourself right now, what happens to them? Who will they have left to lean on? Without someone to provide for them, your sister might be sold into slavery. Your mother can’t raise her grandson alone without sight. In short — if you’re gone, your entire family is gone. Everything your brave father and brother spent years building for that family will be destroyed by one moment of your impulse.” The captain brought his palm across the young mercenary’s face again, and again, and again — hard enough to draw blood from between his teeth, swelling his cheeks into something that looked like bread dough.

“But leaving those people to die — even if I survive, I’ll have dishonored everything my father stood for.” The young mercenary looked toward the family of three, being pressed from all sides by the animal constructs. He could see the bloodied, wounded husband and wife, spending the very last of what they had to hold the child above their heads. Maybe in another second, they’d give out entirely, and all three would be lost to the constructs’ teeth.

Saving them wasn’t an option. Not saving them was worse.

The agony and despair worked at the young mercenary’s heart — so fierce and undisciplined, still untested by real hardship — and nearly broke him. He went pale and hollow, his body trembling without stopping. Several companions took their chance to hold him back, and perhaps sensing that he was truly helpless to do anything, the young mercenary broke down entirely, weeping like a child who’d been beaten too many times: “Why? God in heaven, why? Why?!”

Yue Yang was still standing where he’d been.

Not making a sound.

Watching all of it in quiet, steady observation.

While the mercenaries were in the middle of their argument, the stationed gatekeepers pulled their constructs back and halted the attack.

They sauntered toward the mercenary group, voices dripping with theatrical mockery: “Well, well! I didn’t think there were actual heroes of justice left in this world. You’ve given this old soldier quite a fright. Lucky for us you lot aren’t the noble lords of this domain — otherwise our heads wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you. All right then, you want to save someone? Your Uncle here is giving you the chance today…”

One of the guards turned back and called toward the bloodied couple: “Your saviors have arrived! Give us a nice cry for help!”

The couple looked at the young mercenary being restrained by his companions, and the husband and wife both closed their eyes in pain.

Of course they wanted to be saved.

Nobody wanted to die.

But setting aside whether this group of mercenaries could actually save them — even if they managed it for a moment, how far could they really run? To the mine’s owners, these mercenaries were no more significant than ants. If they dared act, the only result would be more people dragged into danger alongside them — more innocent people. And with that thought, how could they bear to call for help?

“You’d rather die than call out? Well, you haven’t forgotten your daughter, have you? Think about what your daughter is going to look like when they eat her.” One of the gatekeepers reminded them with a grin. The couple’s faces went rigid. The wife struggled to hold back, but then cried out toward the mercenaries with everything she had, the husband trying to stop her and failing: “Brothers — I’m not asking you to fight for us. I’m only asking you to have mercy on this child. She’s innocent. Please — when I throw her, will anyone step forward to catch her? Please — please—”

“Yes, yes — now we’re getting somewhere!” The four guards burst out laughing.

“Though you could make the crying a little more pathetic. If you’re begging people to catch your daughter, you need to put more feeling into it.”

“Don’t worry — we’ll give you your chance. But make sure you throw her hard enough. Don’t let her drop to the ground, because if your little one’s head gets stomped into pulp by my construct, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Ahahaha!”

“Hey, you righteous mercenaries — not one of you going to respond? You’re all cowards without the guts to back it up?”

“If no one cooperates, this stops being fun.”

“And when it stops being fun, we end the game immediately. Constructs — get ready to move!”

The young mercenary was a complete wreck of tears. He hated who he was — why wasn’t he a noble lord’s son? Why didn’t he have an army of a hundred thousand? Why was he the son of an old, impoverished mercenary, born low, powerless as a pitiful ant when facing those with authority? Why was his life worth less than others? Why couldn’t all his effort change his fate?

Every mercenary had lowered their head.

Every one of them had a family that depended on them as its pillar.

None dared think about what would happen if that pillar collapsed. Perhaps a wife would be taken by others, beloved children sold off one by one into slavery. Or perhaps a wife would hold the family together, but without income, the whole household would huddle together starving in destitution until they died, and then their remains would be torn apart by stray dogs.

Everyone wanted to help.

Everyone understood the devastating consequences of helping.

And even setting consequences aside, the odds of actually succeeding were nearly zero. Their constructs were nowhere near a match for the powerful ones on the other side. The charge of “attacking noble domain property” needed no further elaboration. And stepping back ten thousand paces further — even if they somehow pulled the couple free, how could they escape the pursuing forces that would be sent after them?

Faced with something as universally condemnable as this.

Save them, or don’t?

Only heaven could give them an answer. But heaven wasn’t opening its eyes, no sign was coming, no miracle descended. Not a single person knew what to do.

“Disappointing. A group of cowards. Even those wretched slaves’ eyes have more defiance in them than yours.” The gatekeepers sneered.

“The slaves from the back are closing in — trying to use their numbers to protect these wretches again. Constructs, move out — bite them to death…”

The dark mass of figures drew closer — slaves in heavy leg irons and chains.

Slave mine workers.

Many had been bitten, their wounds open and bleeding, raw and ugly.

At the sight of them, the woman couldn’t hold back her tears.

But the man’s eyes went more hollow with despair, because he saw what was coming behind the crowd — the mine garrison captain strolling unhurriedly forward with his escort, and behind him, the man who truly held all power here, the man who considered human lives worthless: General Leihou.

Every one of those men had a powerful battle construct beneath them.

“Is there really no one willing to step forward and be a hero? Even for one minute?” One of the guards spat a thick glob on the ground with contempt. “Useless garbage.”

“I’m not a hero. But I’m not garbage either.”

A voice spoke.

The captain — who had been standing at the front of the mercenary group — suddenly stepped forward. Under the young mercenary’s disbelieving stare, he walked toward the bloodied couple at an unhurried pace, ignoring the ring of animal constructs surrounding them, and slowly extended one hand. “If you trust me, I’ll take her. I have five children at home. One more is nothing. I won’t promise much — just enough to keep her fed.”

The bloodied man found he had no more words left.

He dropped straight down to his knees.

Head pressed to the ground in a deep bow.

A man’s knees were worth their weight in gold — this man had been bitten and torn by a circle of beasts, blood and flesh scattered, and hadn’t kneeled to beg for mercy once. He was iron-boned through and through.

But the captain’s act of grace was something his iron bones couldn’t carry. Because this kindness was heavier than mountains, deeper than oceans. He couldn’t think of any better way to express his gratitude than to bow his head to the ground.

The woman broke into quiet sobs. Her heart was moved — and breaking.

Her daughter would be safe soon.

But her daughter was about to leave her. And this separation would be permanent.

She pulled the small dark bundle in close against her chest, holding on as hard as she could, kissing that tiny dirty face again and again, kissing those thin, blackened little hands, unable to stop.

“Don’t!” The man saw and went rigid with urgency. If they didn’t send her away now, by the time General Leihou reached them, what chance did their daughter have? He tore the child from his wife’s arms with trembling hands. He looked at his daughter’s thin, dark little face for one long moment. And then, as the construct beasts surged forward, he hurled her high in the captain’s direction with everything he had left: “Brother — good luck to you. I’ll repay this kindness in the next life!”

“Hah!” The captain, himself being closed in on from multiple sides, leaped upward with everything he had. He didn’t try to avoid the bites closing in on him. He stretched both arms as far as they would go, reaching for the small girl who’d been thrown toward him by parents whose only remaining prayer was that she would live.

Over at General Leihou’s side.

A three-meter humanoid battle construct wound up and launched a spear in a single lightning movement.

A sharp whistle of air.

The spear moved ten times faster than an arrow, trailing a streak of black, and drove straight through the captain’s chest in an instant. The spear’s force and sharpness were enough to pin him clean through, burying itself in the ground beneath him. By the time he registered being nailed in place, his eyes were still looking at the spear in his chest in disbelief.

He looked at the small girl, tumbling head-first through open air, falling in freefall.

General Leihou stroked his bristling beard with one hand, apparently finding the angle of that fall tremendously satisfying.

He laughed without stopping. “Not everyone can be a hero! Ah—?”

Something strange had happened.

The small girl falling from the sky.

Did not fall into the waiting jaws of the construct beasts.

She dropped, inexplicably, into the arms of a young man standing some dozen or so meters away.

The young man gently touched the small girl’s filthy little face, and said something rather unusual: “In front of someone who has a weakness for little ones, could you please be a little gentler with children?”

(End of Chapter)