As night fell again, the wailing from below had not stopped. In the camp at Offshore Cliff, the atmosphere was extremely oppressive.
Brin stood at the camp gate, watching his weeping companions. Colin stood up and slowly walked towards him.
"Brin." Colin lowered his head, not looking at his friend's face, his voice choked with guilt, "Open the gate. My path ends here."
"My mother was knocked down by Knight Terry's horse and whipped to death by his servants. My only living relative in this world is my father. I cannot stand by and watch him be killed by Black Lion."
Brin remained silent, his fingers on the sword hilt turning white from the force, but he still did not move away from the camp gate.
More and more people gathered, and several more bandits whose names had been called stepped forward.
"Open the gate! Please!"
"I want to go home!"
"My family will be killed!"
"Let me go down and kill the bitch and the bastard!!!!"
"I will leave everything I've stolen here! I won't take anything! Let me out!"
"Please!"
The pleas grew more numerous and louder. Brin's face was pale, he could barely stand steady, and his sword-holding hand trembled continuously, yet he remained utterly still.
Stab Head and Bulgremm rushed over upon hearing the news, their faces changing drastically. These people were crucial to their own survival.
Stab Head drew his longsword and shouted sharply: "No!"
"None of you can leave!!!"
He looked at the blacksmith and Bulgremm, roaring:
"Don't let them go!"
"If they leave! What will we negotiate with Black Lion with! We'll all die!"
"He even dared to bury a noble knight alive! How will he treat us!"
Bulgremm also drew his sword, staring fiercely at the kneeling people:
"Whoever dares to take another step, I'll kill him first!"
Some of Bulgremm's and Stab Head's trusted men also drew their swords. The air was now as tense as a string about to snap.
The blacksmith, Brin, looked at the faint lights below the mountain, listening to the intermittent cries carried by the night wind, a trace of painful struggle in his eyes.
Those cries reminded him of many years ago, when he was told by a rushing neighbor that the lord had broken into his cottage and harmed his wife, but when he returned home, he could only hold his heavily wounded, weeping eldest son and watch him slowly die.
He remembered it again: in the once warm and cozy cottage, covered in bloodstains on the walls and floor, listening to his eldest son's sobs slowly fade away,
Life extinguished.
Brin, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke. His voice was low, yet exceptionally clear:
"Let them go."
Stab Head looked at him in disbelief.
"Are you an idiot!!!!" Stab Head's anger, accumulated for two days, completely erupted, as he cursed furiously, "You piece of shit! You're the one who wouldn't let us negotiate! You're the one who said we should resist firmly! And now you're the one who wants to let them go??!"
Brin slowly raised his head, his eyes filled with sorrow, yet possessing an unshakeable will. He finally roared, as if releasing pent-up emotions: "I came up the mountain because the nobles don't treat us as human beings!!!!"
His voice was like a bear's furious roar, shaking the entire scene.
"I will not be like those nobles! Forcing others' husbands and sons to die with a sword! Torturing and killing their family members in front of their husbands and sons!!!!"
"Fuck you!!!!" Bulgremm roared, "Nobody's leaving today!!"
Before he finished speaking, Stab Head had already swung his knife at the bandit closest to him who wanted to leave. The bandit, unprepared, closed his eyes in fright.
A cold light flashed, and Stab Head's sword was parried by a greatsword, making a clang that numbed Stab Head's arm.
Brin stood between Stab Head and the bandit, like an insurmountable wall.
"I said!" Brin said, enunciating each word, "Let them go!"
"Damn you!!!!" Seeing this, Bulgremm completely tore off his pretense and ordered his subordinates, "Kill Brin!!!"
Colin was the first to stand up, drawing the longsword from his waist. Brin's nine loyal companions also immediately drew their weapons and surrounded Brin.
On the top of Offshore Cliff, amidst the cries of families from below the mountain, a fierce internal conflict erupted with a crash.
Sword lights and shadows instantly intertwined.
Stab Head roared and lunged at Brin again, swinging his longsword at Brin's head, but Brin parried it with a backhand and kicked him away.
Brin's greatsword swung wide, forcing back three or four attacking bandits with just a sweep. With a backhand swing, his sword blade struck Stab Head's sword, the immense force making Stab Head stumble back, his arm in severe pain.
Brin was tall and strong, and the greatsword in his hand seemed to come alive, each swing accompanied by the sound of rushing wind.
One bandit was struck in the chest by the sword blade, his ribs shattering, and he cried out as he flew backward.
Another bandit's spear had just been thrust forward when Brin chopped it in half with a single swing, along with several of the fingers holding the spear.
He fought against many, yet he firmly protected the dozen or so bandits behind him who wanted to leave.
The entire camp was in complete chaos. Bandits fought each other, roars, screams, and the clash of weapons echoed through the night sky.
In the confusion, someone, it was unclear who, seized the opportunity to unbolt the camp gate and quickly surrendered down the mountain. The heavy wooden gate, with a creak, opened a crack.
Below the cliff, an arm was raised high!
No words were spoken.
Arthur turned to look at the soldiers, who held torches, their murderous intent already unbearable, trembling with excitement.
The arm swung down!
The soldiers, who had long wanted to rush to the slaughterhouse, surged forward like a tide, running wildly and laughing strangely, towards that gate of slaughter.
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