At this moment, Asa was holding the duke's appointment document in his arms.
He did not understand why the duke would entrust him with the task of saving his daughter as if he was the only savior. With the duke's power and wealth, a gang of big-eared monsters would be no problem at all. Those green-skinned brigands would never dare to kidnap the duke's daughter if they knew who she was. After all, she was a dangerous prize that could draw an army to wipe out their entire village. They usually only attacked passing travelers or small merchant caravans and generally did not dare to hurt anyone. Regardless of who it was, as long as someone brought a ransom, the matter could be resolved.
However, regardless of what the duke thought, this was definitely a good thing. Asa was hoping to resolve the matter discreetly and independently. The duke not only sincerely asked him to rescue his daughter but also specially gifted him an appointment document, stating it would facilitate his actions in the local area, just like the bishop said.
Of course, the duke did not have the direct authority to appoint officials; this document merely served to prove that he was the duke's appointed envoy, indicating that he was the duke's person and could change horses at various relay stations along the way. Furthermore, the duke's reputation and influence had been rising in recent years, so even in remote areas, this document would carry significant deterrent power.
He initially wanted to decline this document, but along with it came ten shining gold coins, which he desperately needed, so he had no choice but to accept it.
The sky was already getting dark, and he returned to Sandru's large house, preparing to set off the next day.
Asa had been thinking about the meditation technique mentioned in that book, and upon entering, he asked Sandru in annoyance, "Why didn't you tell me sooner what the meditation technique in that book was? If I had known, I wouldn't have practiced it."
"Why not practice?" Sandru stared at him.
"Isn't it evil magic? The bishop said those who practiced it have already died. Do you want to kill me?"
Sandru spat on the ground and said, "Those who died were fools who clearly lacked the talent but forced themselves to practice. The technique itself isn't inherently evil or righteous; it just needs to be suitable. Even drinking too much water can bloat you to death. I practiced it before, and when I reached my physical limit, I stopped. I've been fine all these years."
When Sandru heard that the bishop had asked him to destroy that book, he paused and asked, "Did he really say that?" Then he frowned and ran into the back room, coming out to hand Asa something in his hand. "You need to take this."
Asa took a closer look and saw it was two black pills.
"Quick, take them," Sandru urged, patting Asa's back as if comforting a child.
"How can I take something when I don't even know what it is? It wouldn't be poison, would it?"
"This is a good medicine." Sandru put on an innocent angry expression. "I used dozens of precious herbs combined with magic to create this good stuff. Taking it can strengthen your body and boost your energy. I saw that you'll be undertaking a difficult task tomorrow, so I wanted to supplement your strength."
"Really?" Asa sniffed; it didn't smell like anything, so he opened his mouth and swallowed.
"Here, have a glass of water to help with digestion." Sandru handed him a cup of water.
Asa gulped it down, only to realize that Sandru was watching him closely, making him feel uncomfortable. "What are you up to?"
Sandru looked into his mouth to confirm that he had swallowed the pills and that there was no chance of him spitting them out. He then suddenly shouted in panic, "Oh no! I forgot. The potency of this medicine is too strong and must be neutralized with another kind of medicine. Otherwise, it will cause your intestines to rupture, and you'll suffer a painful death."
"You…" Asa stared at him. "What do you mean?"
"I forgot the prescription for the other medicine, but it's recorded in that book. You must find that book and bring it back to me as soon as possible." He patted Asa's shoulder and innocently added, "Why are you looking at me like that? I didn't do it on purpose. But don't worry; the effects of this medicine don't take effect immediately; it takes a long time to activate. I believe you can retrieve the book before the poison takes effect. Just remember not to let anyone else see the book, as only I can understand the prescription written in it…"
Then he seemed to think of something again and, with a caring tone typical of an elder, reminded Asa, "By the way, I have a bad memory. If you mention this to Bishop Ronis, I'll forget everything the moment I get startled."
Asa sighed and nodded, patting Sandru on the shoulder. "Don't worry; I'll get the book for you and tell the bishop that I've destroyed it." He truly did not believe that those who played such tricks would have anything to do with the legendary Necromancer Guild.
"Turns out you're so smart; I never noticed before." Sandru nodded, a little embarrassed, and then said with a serious expression, "But that really is a powerful poison. You need to feel pressure to focus; otherwise, you'll be dazed when you see a woman. If that woman rolls into your arms and sweetly asks you to destroy that book, wouldn't you be risking your life?"
Asa impatiently nodded, saying, "Alright, I understand. I'll get the book for you."
With a loud crash, the two wooden doors were kicked open violently. A group of people rushed in, almost all were burly men armed with weapons.
Only at the front was a thin man with a sharp nose and chin, who looked Asa up and down before telling the others, "This is the guy. The young master instructed us to take him alive. But it's okay to break a few arms and legs; whoever knocks him down first gets five gold coins."
As soon as he finished speaking, everyone lunged toward Asa, their eyes fixed on the five gold coins.
"Looks like they're looking for you. Take your time," Sandru turned and walked away.
Asa did not understand how these strangers were looking for him, but when faced with armed people rushing at him, he knew exactly what to do. Instead of retreating, he charged forward, unleashing a fireball at the first person who came at him, using almost all his strength.
Asa understood the trick of fighting fewer enemies. The side with more people often feels overconfident, and their mindset tends to be loose; as long as you display unexpected strength and take down a few, their morale will collapse, making it easier to deal with them.
Although this fireball did not have the exaggerated power it had in the Whispering Woods, it had noticeably improved compared to before. It hit the person in the chest and sent him flying. The nearby men were also knocked down by the explosive shockwave.
"Oh?" Sandru, who had come to watch, widened his eyes in surprise at the power of the fireball.
The others did not pause; instead, they rushed at him even more fiercely, taking advantage of the interval after his spell. Asa could tell that this group were seasoned veterans. He drew his dagger from his back.
He blocked the two swords coming straight at him and then pulled out another fireball to blow away the two who were trying to flank him. He now felt that his magical power flowed smoothly and continuously within him.
This was his first time fighting after escaping from the Whispering Woods, and it felt as if he had made significant progress. The power of meditation and the Sun Well was gradually merging in his body, showing remarkable effects not only in his magic but also in his physical abilities.
Asa swung the back of his blade to knock down two opponents. He didn't want to kill anyone, so he only used the flat side of the blade, making his strikes lighter, but there was still the sound of breaking bones each time. However, he didn't expect these men to be so fierce. Just as he turned around, one of the large men who had fallen down endured the pain and got up, lunging at him from behind with a sword. It only grazed his robe before bouncing off.
Asa didn't look back; he stepped back and elbowed him. The sound of a shattered face and a muffled scream echoed simultaneously. He would not be getting up again.
A man with a longsword came charging from the side, and Asa simply met him head-on, blocking the sword with his arm and then smashing the hilt of his dagger into the man's jaw, crushing it. He retaliated with another fireball, sending a guy who attempted to sneak up from behind crashing into a shelf filled with glass jars containing various organs, spilling intestines and potions all over the ground. Sandru cursed beside him.
Seeing Asa's fighting style, the remaining few finally felt afraid, standing there with their weapons raised but no longer advancing.
"Stop!" a loud shout rang out. The thin man at the front had secretly run over and pressed a knife against Sandru's neck.
"Don't move, or I'll slice this old man's head off." The thin man shouted with authority, clearly feeling that he had gained the upper hand.
The thin man felt very pleased with himself. He wasn't much of a fighter, mainly playing the role of a strategist under a master who preferred watching fights and killings. This time, since the master had been called away by the lord before departing, and he was the only one who had seen the person who had injured his master, he was called to lead the men. He saw this as a great opportunity from heaven and intended to seize it and perform well.
"Don't move! If you do, this old man's throat will be cut open, and blood will gush out. Just think about what that would look like. Have you ever heard the sound of someone's throat being slit? It's not pretty, especially when it's someone close to you. Look at this old gentleman; at his age, he probably doesn't have much blood left," the thin man described forcefully, trying to strengthen his intimidation.
He saw that his opponent truly didn't move, as if he was really being held hostage, making him feel even prouder. He was confident in the effectiveness of his usual methods. He had always looked down on those who relied on brute strength and directly confronted their opponents, feeling proud of his superior intellect.
As long as someone is human, they have family and friends they care about. Instead of wasting effort fighting and killing, it's much easier to exploit their weaknesses, compelling them to yield without a fight.
He chuckled in satisfaction. This was a typical example of how his intelligence triumphed over brute force; he controlled the situation with his wits in this collapse of the battlefield. He could already imagine how his master would look at him with new eyes, assigning him important tasks, and eventually, he would become the top subordinate, a strategist in his own right.
With a sense of authority, he commanded the few men who were standing there, "You guys go up and chop off his hands and feet a few times. Remember, make sure to cut the tendons so he can't move anymore, but don't hit any major blood vessels. The young master said he needs him alive." He looked at Asa and said, "You better not move; my knife is very sharp."
Two burly men stepped forward, swinging their weapons down toward Asa's feet. They were experienced fighters, aiming directly for his heels.
A scream erupted, but it was the two burly men who fell. Asa not only moved but moved very skillfully. He suddenly jumped aside, grabbed the two men, and their weapons struck each other. Then he forcefully smashed their heads together, and with a muffled thud, they collapsed to the ground, unmoving.
The thin man was both surprised and furious. He decided to demonstrate his power and show the one who had ignored his threat that he was not just blustering; he raised his knife and swung it toward the old man's face. He had encountered similar situations before; usually, a quick cut off a hostage's ear or a few slashes on their body would instantly deter the opponent from further resistance upon seeing their friend or family in pain.
Just as he raised his hand, he suddenly found himself unable to move. The old man's wrinkled, white hand merely reached out and touched his other hand, and his body felt as stiff as wood.
The old man turned around, nostalgically commenting, "It's been a long time since someone pressed a knife against me." He looked at the knife in his hand and said, "A knife shouldn't be held like this…" Then he reached out and one by one, pried the thin man's fingers open, changing his grip on the knife and then resetting his fingers back, seizing his wrist and bringing the knife back toward his own face.
The thin man's body felt normal and clear in every part, his joints were flexible, yet all his muscles were rigid. He watched helplessly as the knife sliced into his left cheek, cutting through the flesh with excruciating pain. Blood gushed from the cut, pooling into a small river that flowed down his chin. He couldn't even blink; tears streamed from his wide-open eyes, mixing with the blood as they dripped down.
The knife cut out from the thin man's ear, nearly slicing half his face off. His pants were soaked, yet he remained in the position of raising his hand with the knife, still wearing that fierce expression on the half of his face that remained intact. Sandru continued to instruct him as if teaching a child, "See how well the cutting lines are? The knife should be held like this… Oh, I forgot, you can't see… Next time you take a knife to kill someone, make sure to hold it this way. Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot. It seems you won't have a next time…"
Meanwhile, the remaining burly men began to retreat toward the door. Sandru sighed dramatically, addressing the thin man, "Why are your companions ignoring you and trying to escape? This won't do; you should go stop them." That pale, wrinkled hand easily reached into the thin man's body, as if it were merely mud instead of skin and muscle.
The thin man immediately felt a strange sensation rapidly spreading through his body. To be precise, it wasn't a feeling, but rather the feeling of losing sensation. All the sensations in his body were swiftly disappearing, centered around that hand. He didn't even have time to ponder what was happening before he lost the ability to think.
Sandru casually tossed the thin man's hundred-plus-pound body, which flew out and crashed into the retreating men, bursting apart with a sound akin to a fart. Such a small explosion wouldn't cause any harm; it merely splattered the thin man's insides everywhere.
What splattered out wasn't red blood or organs, but a foul, gooey substance that smelled as if it had been rotting in a sewage ditch for decades. This living person had decayed from the inside out in just a few blinks.
The black goo exploded from the thin man's body onto the retreating burly men, who immediately screamed as if they were splashed with molten iron, collapsing to the ground and rolling around. But after a few cries, they fell silent, lying there motionless, their skin taking on a grayish hue as if it had been left out for days like spoiled pork.
Asa stared in shock at the scene before him. He had known all along that Sandru wouldn't need his help, but he never expected it to turn out like this.
Sandru clapped his hands easily. His hands remained pale, showing no signs of the deaths that had just occurred. He looked as casual as if he had just gone to the restroom for a drink of water, turning to Asa and saying, "Did you know you should have died a few times just now?"
Sandru's tone was unusually serious. "I know that killing someone isn't a simple matter; it's much harder than those fools in taverns bragging about it. After my first kill, I vomited for a day and couldn't eat anything for three days." He spoke earnestly, as if he were a responsible teacher instructing his student. "But if you want to avoid being killed, you have to get used to the feeling of killing. When someone wants your life, why would you be lenient and use the back of your knife to strike? Are you looking to live long? Let me ask you, if I really had no way to resist just now, would you really have held back?"
"...Probably... I would," Asa admitted honestly.
"And then you would wait for others to chop off your hands and feet and drag you away like a dead pig? If you pose no threat, how do you think others will treat those who threaten them?" Asa realized then that when Sandru was serious, he actually had a commanding presence and an aura of intimidation.
Asa remained silent. These matters became clear upon reflection.
Sandru shook his head, as if he wanted to say something but held back, leaving only one sentence: "You'll have to understand that slowly yourself." He then walked over to one of the burly men lying on the ground. This man had his collarbone shattered by Asa and was curled up, groaning. Sandru bent down and touched his face, and after letting out a sigh that sounded almost relieved, the man stopped groaning, his previously curled-up hands and feet going limp. Anyone could see he was completely at ease now.
Sandru moved to another burly man on the ground, and Asa hurriedly stepped forward to stop him. "Enough, they can't resist anymore…"
"Do you remember that braggart from the butcher's shop?" Sandru asked. Asa was stunned; he didn't know why Sandru brought this up.
"One of his daughters was raped last month. He went to seek justice but got slashed in the face, and now he's lying at home half-dead." Sandru gestured to his own face, exactly where he had cut the thin man earlier, and pointed at the large puddle of black goo. Inside it, pieces of bone could still be seen dissolving, completely unrecognizable from when it was once a person. "He did it. These guys are probably house slaves raised by some high-ranking official. I'll tell you, they all frequently do such things. Very few people on the street don't know or fear them. Do you think they are more pitiful, or are those they bully more pitiful?"
Asa silently watched as Sandru moved to touch each of the groaning burly men on the ground. These strong men seemed less than ants in the presence of this frail old man, almost dying without a sound.
Sandru returned, speaking in a tone of reprimand. "Let me tell you again, even if they don't deserve to die, I would still do this."
"If I let them go, they will return to tell their master, and then more people will come, even the royal guards or the church's clergy. Should I kill them all? And if word gets out that there's someone at the Magic Academy using necromantic magic from the Dark Guild, and that the bishop is associated with this person, what kind of trouble would that bring? How do you suggest we handle this?"
Asa silently nodded; it was indeed a difficult situation. He asked, "Then what should we do about it now?"
"What do you mean by 'now'? What's the situation now? I don't know anything. I've been discussing matters with the bishop this evening; he can vouch for me. I have no idea how these people died here. They broke my things, and I still don't know who to ask for compensation," Sandru replied.
Asa was taken aback and then nodded, at a loss for words.
"Don't be swayed by simple emotions. Think more about the consequences of what will happen next, and then move in the direction and do whatever should be done. Remember, that thing on your neck isn't just for growing hair. You're setting off to get that book tomorrow, and in your current state, I don't even know if you can make it back alive." Sandru's lecturing tone gradually became calm and indifferent. "Many things can make you feel uncomfortable at the beginning, but to survive in this world, you must practice to get used to them. This world doesn't revolve around your feelings."
Asa sighed, wanting to nod in agreement but also wanting to shake his head.