"All right, all right, I'll go ask him."
President Ross was nervous. He had never encountered so many bandits at once.
But before he could reach Locke's carriage, he saw Locke already stepping out.
"Lord Locke."
Ross ran a few steps forward, wiping sweat from his forehead with his silk scarf as he asked, "Lord Locke, roughly a thousand bandits are blocking the caravan ahead. Should we fall back?"
Although Ross didn't want to lose fifty percent of the goods, he couldn't question Locke's abilities in front of him.
All he could do was cautiously voice his concern.
Of course, if Locke said to retreat, Ross would have no choice but to accept the bitter outcome.
After all, it was his massive caravan that had attracted so many bandits.
If it were just his own small caravan, a bandit gang of one or two hundred could hardly make a difference in front of Lord Locke.
"No need, President Ross."
Locke didn't know all the thoughts swirling in Ross's mind, but he had no respect for bandits.
The strong strike at the stronger.
The weak strike at the weaker.
In Locke's eyes, the bandits' power meant they would fare well in life regardless.
But they were used to taking without working, plundering from the weak. Such people, if encountered, Locke would deal with them casually.
Three years of battlefield experience had long taught Locke the harsh truths of this world.
Nodding at Ross, Locke, accompanied by four Level-6 warrior guards, moved to the front of the caravan.
"This caravan has a mage!"
The Red Silk Bandit leader's heart skipped a beat as Locke appeared.
Why did a mage hold so much more power than a warrior?
It was simple: power.
One area-of-effect spell could wipe out a large group of warriors.
If it were just a mid-level mage, it would be tolerable—their magic limited, and mid-level spells could only harm a few high-level warriors.
But a high-level mage? They were in serious danger!
High-level spells were several times stronger in both power and range than mid-level ones.
On the battlefield, to minimize casualties, the first priority was always to eliminate enemy mages.
"Everyone, this caravan has a mage. All Level-6 warriors, charge with me!"
"Kill their mage first, then deal with the rest."
The Red Silk leader drew his greatsword, stomping the ground to create a large crater, then leapt forward ten meters toward Locke.
The other bandit leaders drew their weapons and followed in formation.
To avoid being wiped out by a single spell, they spread out.
"Protect Lord Locke!"
Seeing the bandits charge, the caravan's guards shouted and moved to Locke's side, ready to defend him.
The bandits, seeing their leaders charge, naturally followed, shouting and rushing toward the caravan.
The sheer scale of the assault made the guards' faces pale.
Yet the guards' professionalism shone through.
Even against ten times their number, the caravan's defensive formation held.
Locke felt not the slightest worry.
As a Level-6 mage, he had never feared anything.
Now, having broken through his limits, he was a Level-7 Grand Mage.
The difference between Level-7 and Level-6 wasn't just liquefied magic—it was nearly ten times more spiritual power.
Furthermore, Locke's understanding of the "Mist Illusion" law had tripled in depth.
Facing the charging bandits, Locke extended his left hand, enveloping all nine hundred bandits before him with his immense spiritual power.
With spiritual power breaking through and greater law comprehension, Locke no longer needed mist as a conduit for magic.
He then clenched his left hand into a fist, shouting:
"Celestial Dance Wheel!"
"Sight—Revoked!"
"Hearing—Revoked!"
Nearly a thousand bandits instantly felt their vision and hearing vanish. Darkness and silence enveloped them.
"Ah! Wh-what's happening?"
"My eyes! My ears!"
The once orderly charge collapsed into chaos.
Without sight, everyone veered off course.
Cautious bandits who stopped were trampled by those behind them.
Some warriors, for safety, swung their weapons wildly at anyone nearby.
Even the eighteen lead bandit leaders felt fear grip them.
When had they ever seen such strange magic?
Mages didn't chant spells using water or light elements? What devilish magic was this?
Now, the bandits could do nothing.
Chaos reigned. Some cried, begged, or cursed, yet still swung their weapons, fearing being struck.
Fall to the ground, and you'd be trampled to death.
Get hit, and you might die instantly.
With the bandits' charge disrupted, Locke's staff glowed blue. Ten ice blades appeared around him.
As a Level-6 mage, he could only fully control three ice blades.
But now, as a Level-7 Grand Mage, ten or more ice blades were far from his limit.
Locke waved his staff forward. Guided by his spiritual power, the blades cut through the bandits with deadly precision.
In just three minutes, nearly a thousand bandits lay dead.
(End of Chapter 11)