Translator: CinderTL
"Jamal, what's going on?"
Seeing a familiar face from the River Domain Nations—Jamal, with whom he had played dice games earlier—Roland skipped the pleasantries and cut straight to the chase.
"Roland?"
Hearing his name called, the young man turned, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before his expression shifted to indignation as he pointed at the Golden Valley soldiers across from them.
"They're accusing us of being spies!"
"Spies?"
This unexpected accusation raised Roland's eyebrows slightly.
Unlike the diverse, multi-ethnic environment of the River Domain Nations, the Golden Valley Kingdom, though home to a small number of elves and dwarves, remained predominantly human. Non-human races inevitably faced some degree of discrimination here.
Before their departure, to prevent any unnecessary trouble on the road, Roland had specifically requested the files of these traveling scholars from Graham. After confirming that all were human with clean backgrounds, he had finally approved the roster.
He knew better than anyone that these students would never deliberately cause trouble, let alone be spies.
As his thoughts raced, Roland gently patted Jamal's shoulder, nodded to the other students, and stepped forward.
"My apologies..."
Roland spread his hands to show he meant no harm, smiled faintly, and spoke in a calm, measured tone.
"Gentlemen, we are students from the Knight Academy of the River Domain Nations, here on an academic exchange to your esteemed country. I believe... there may have been some misunderstanding."
Roland's appearance shattered the tense atmosphere.
His resolute yet gentle features and composed, courteous demeanor caused the Golden Valley soldiers, who had been gripping their weapons tightly, to relax their stances slightly.
Just as the tension began to ease, a deep voice suddenly cut through the air.
"A misunderstanding?"
A middle-aged man stepped forward from behind the soldiers.
His ornate attire stood in stark contrast to the soldiers' battered armor.
In an instant, Roland recognized his status.
A noble.
And...
Roland's eyes narrowed as he noticed the massive bear crest embroidered in gold thread on the man's robes.
The man's noble rank was undoubtedly high.
The middle-aged noble casually brushed nonexistent dust from his robes, then pointed a gloved hand at Jamal, who stood behind Roland, and sneered.
"After this commoner passed by me, the documents I was carrying vanished. They contained vital military intelligence!"
His words immediately tightened the soldiers' nerves, who had been slightly relaxing. They subtly shifted their positions, forming an implicit encirclement.
Roland narrowed his eyes and retorted coldly, "What proof do you have?"
"Proof?" The middle-aged man's lips curled into a sinister smile, a glint of triumph flashing in his eyes. "Once I throw you in the dungeon, I'll find ways to extract what I want from you."
Roland frowned deeply.
He wasn't afraid of these few dozen soldiers. If it came to a fight, he was confident he could subdue them all in a matter of moments.
But if a conflict erupted, this leisurely educational journey would inevitably escalate into a diplomatic incident—the very outcome he most wished to avoid.
But...
Roland glanced at the arrogant middle-aged man before him, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
It was clear to anyone that the man was deliberately provoking a confrontation. Negotiating their way out of arrest was no longer an option.
At the same time, a flicker of doubt arose in Roland's mind.
He couldn't understand why such a high-ranking noble would fabricate accusations and deliberately cause them trouble.
Could it simply be... the inherent arrogance of the Golden Valley Kingdom's nobility?
After a brief shake of his head, Roland made a swift decision.
It seems we have no choice but to fight. As long as we avoid fatalities, there shouldn't be any serious consequences...
With this thought, he quietly instructed the students behind him while his right hand slowly moved toward the hilt of his sword.
Just as Roland's fingers were about to touch the hilt, the richly dressed man seemed to sense his intent and barked out a command.
"Seize them! Don't let a single one escape!"
The order shattered the tense atmosphere like a thunderclap.
The Golden Valley soldiers roared as they raised their weapons and surged forward like a tidal wave.
Jamal and the other River Domain Students immediately drew their swords to meet the charge, but the disparity became clear the moment they clashed.
These young students from the River Domain Nations, whether in combat experience or raw strength, were no match for the battle-hardened veterans of Golden Valley.
Their parries were met with bone-jarring blows that numbed their arms, and their refined sword techniques were repeatedly stifled by the veterans' simple, brutal, and coordinated attacks.
Within moments, two students had their weapons knocked from their hands and staggered backward, only narrowly avoiding capture thanks to their comrades' desperate cover.
Forced into a fragile circular formation, they struggled to hold their ground, their situation growing increasingly precarious.
In stark contrast to the students' plight stood Roland.
Just as the first soldier's battle-axe was about to cleave into a student's shoulder, a figure silently interposed itself between them.
Roland moved.
His movements were effortless yet breathtakingly precise.
With a seemingly casual sidestep and advance, his left hand shot out like lightning, not to parry, but to strike the soldier's wrist with the inner edge of his forearm.
The soldier's entire arm suddenly went numb, and his battleaxe clattered to the ground. As if anticipating this, Roland's right elbow gently pressed against the soldier's breastplate.
Thud!
With a muffled impact, the burly soldier was sent flying backward as if struck by a siege ram. He crashed into two of his comrades, sending all three tumbling into a tangled heap, unable to rise.
The entire exchange happened in the blink of an eye.
Another soldier lunged from the side, his longsword aimed at Roland's ribs.
But Roland didn't even fully turn. With a flick of his wrist, the longsword at his waist finally slid from its sheath.
Instead of a slashing strike, he precisely struck the weak point of the enemy's blade with the spine of his own sword.
Clang!
The soldier felt a strange force surge through his sword, forcing it aside and leaving his defenses wide open.
Roland's left leg shot out like a scorpion's tail, silently striking the side of the soldier's knee.
The soldier screamed, dropping to one knee and clutching his dislocated knee, unable to stand.
The third and fourth soldiers charged simultaneously from the front.
Instead of retreating, Roland advanced, his figure weaving through the gap between their weapons like a phantom.
In that fleeting moment of crossing paths, the pommel of his sword slammed into the back of one soldier's head, while the heel of his other hand precisely struck the side of the other soldier's neck.
Without a sound, the two soldiers collapsed limply to the ground.
Clean, efficient, and effective.
Not a single wasted movement; every action was perfectly timed and executed. It resembled less a life-or-death struggle and more a meticulously choreographed martial arts performance.
He always appeared at the most critical moment in the most lethal position, dismantling attacks with minimal effort and instantly incapacitating his opponents.
The soldiers, who seemed invincible to the River Domain Students, appeared clumsy as puppets before Roland, often defeated the moment they crossed paths.
He didn't even kill them; the fallen soldiers suffered at most dislocated joints or brief unconsciousness, yet none could rise again.
The soldiers who had been besieging the students froze in shock at this sudden turn of events, their attention involuntarily drawn to Roland.
Several tried to regroup and surround this new, overwhelming threat, but they couldn't even catch a glimpse of Roland's shadow.
He moved through the crowd like a whirlwind, soldiers falling like stalks of wheat in his wake.
In less than a dozen breaths, only a handful of soldiers remained standing on the field.
The middle-aged noble's smugness and coldness had vanished, replaced by incredulous shock and a thinly veiled fear.
His mouth gaped open, as if he wanted to speak, but no sound came out.
Roland lightly flicked his longsword, sheathing it with a smooth motion.
He surveyed the surroundings, his calm gaze sweeping over the groaning soldiers on the ground before settling on the pale-faced, richly dressed man.
"Now," Roland's voice remained gentle, "can we discuss this so-called 'misunderstanding' calmly and rationally?"
Behind him, Jamal and the other River Domain Students stared wide-eyed, their faces a mixture of shock and awe.
Only now did they truly grasp the terrifying power hidden beneath the approachable demeanor of their leader, the man who had even played dice games with them along the road.
"Everyone, cease fighting!"
As the fallen soldiers struggled to rise, a thunderous command suddenly rang out.
All eyes turned to see an exceptionally burly man striding slowly toward them.
Thump... thump... thump...
The heavy footsteps struck the hearts of every River Domain Student like the beat of a war drum.
As the mountain-like figure loomed closer, the already injured students paled visibly.
Roland's reaction, however, was the complete opposite.
"Hmm?"
As he recognized the newcomer's face, he couldn't help but let out a low hum, his brow furrowing slowly, a peculiar expression spreading across his face.
(End of the Chapter)
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