After exchanging nods with Porter, Matthew drew the White Fang Bow to its limit once more. His eyes, sharp as an eagle's, locked onto the horse bandits lurking restlessly near the gap in the defensive line.
He knew well that he had to whittle down the enemy's ordinary forces as quickly as possible. Only then could Porter focus entirely on Nathan, creating an opportunity for a final pincer attack.
The arrow left the string, swift as lightning.
The first arrow went straight for the throat of a horse bandit trying to bypass a wooden crate to flank Aidan. The man collapsed instantly.
Almost simultaneously, a second arrow was notched. With a brief aim, Matthew loosed it at another bandit who was swinging a blade at Paxson's head.
The arrow pierced the bandit's chest, sending blood spraying. As the man stumbled backward, Paxson seized the chance to deliver a fatal slash.
Within just a few minutes, Matthew loosed several arrows in quick succession. Every shot found its mark, precisely claiming the lives of two more horse bandits.
One arrow struck the face of a bandit trying to climb a carriage from the side, while another pierced the chest of a minor leader shouting orders to charge from thirty paces away.
With every man that fell, the bandits' charge weakened. Their morale, which Nathan had barely managed to stabilize, wavered once more. Many shrank back, no longer daring to step easily into the range of Matthew's deadly bow.
As the pressure on the defensive line eased slightly, Porter took the opportunity to stabilize his defense. Though his swordplay remained cautious, he was no longer forced backward.
Sensing the rising casualties among his men, a fierce light flared in Nathan's eyes. He suddenly intensified his onslaught, trying to end the fight quickly.
However, Porter fought while retreating strategically, maintaining a tight defense throughout while signaling Matthew with a glance to keep suppressing the ordinary bandits.
Understanding the signal, Matthew did not stop. He loosed two more arrows in rapid succession, forcing back three bandits who were trying to gather for another charge.
The battlefield's situation was gradually becoming clear: Matthew used his long-range archery to clear out the foot soldiers and secure the defensive line, while Porter engaged Nathan in close combat to wear down his strength and patience.
Once the right moment arrived, the two of them would launch a pincer attack and completely turn the tide of battle.
Nathan and Porter fought on, blades clashing furiously. Although Nathan held the upper hand, his peripheral vision remained locked on Matthew's direction.
Seeing Matthew's continuous stream of arrows suppressing his men so thoroughly that they didn't dare to advance, he felt a surge of annoyance, knowing well that if left unchecked, this young archer would become a fatal variable.
I can't let this go on!
Glancing around, he executed a feint that forced Porter back half a step. Seizing the brief opening, he barked out,
“Valentine! Stop that kid!”
“A few of you cover Valentine so he can get close! Twenty gold coins for each of you!”
A cold, calculating light flashed in Nathan's eyes.
He saw the situation clearly: though Matthew's archery was formidable, the boy was young and lacked combat experience. Once an archer was tied down in close quarters, a longbow would become useless.
As a Brass Rank Beast Whisperer, Valentine could do more than just control beasts; his own close-combat capabilities were not to be underestimated either. He was more than capable of stalling or even severely wounding the boy.
As long as Valentine could keep Matthew busy for a moment, Nathan could unleash his full power to crush Porter. Once that happened, the overall situation would remain firmly in his grasp.
At the same time, Nathan's roar was like a spark dropped into boiling oil, instantly igniting the crowd of horse bandits.
“Twenty gold coins!”
The eyes of these outlaws instantly lit up with terrifying intensity.
On the Sunset Grasslands, and indeed across the entire West Wasteland Province, what did twenty gold coins mean?
For an ordinary farming household, a whole year of backbreaking labor—even with all harvests combined and taxes deducted—would rarely yield a savings of three to five silver coins.
One gold coin was worth a hundred silver coins, making twenty gold coins equivalent to two thousand silver coins.
That was enough to instantly lift a family into wealth, buy a decent small house in the county seat, or allow someone to live comfortably for several years.
For these horse bandits who lived on the edge of a blade, it was an astronomical sum—more than enough to make them forget their fear and risk their lives!
Under the lure of a massive reward, brave men would always emerge.
The breathing of several horse bandits, who had just been deterred by Matthew's arrows and were shrinking back, immediately grew heavy.
Greed instantly overpowered their fear.
“Cover Lord Valentine!”
“Charge! For the gold!”
A few hoarse screeches rang out as four or five of the fiercest, most money-hungry bandits suddenly lunged out from the crowd.
They no longer blindly rushed the gap in the carriage circle, but deliberately scattered, brandishing their scimitars and shields.
Some of these shields were merely wooden planks they had picked up on the fly.
Screaming wildly, the bandits pounced toward the flank where Matthew was positioned from various directions. They aimed to draw and disrupt Matthew's arrows, creating an opening for Valentine to close the distance.
At the same time, Valentine's thoughts aligned perfectly with Nathan's, but the killing intent in his heart was far more intense and burning.
The path of a Beast Whisperer was completely different from that of ordinary Class holders.
For other Class holders—whether they were warriors, archers, or elemental mages—as their rank rose and their life energy underwent qualitative changes, they would gradually comprehend or learn more combat techniques, diversifying their offensive and defensive capabilities.
But Beast Whisperers were different. From the moment they stepped onto this unconventional path, they could typically only establish a deep soul connection with a single animal.
If the animal died, they would have to establish a connection anew, a process that required a massive investment of time.
The hawk that had been shot down was named Grey Shadow.
It was not merely his eyes, but a companion he had spent five years of painstaking effort to completely tame, nourishing its soul with his own combat techniques.
The bond between a Beast Whisperer and their controlled animal was far from a simple master-servant relationship; it was a mental connection akin to being halves of a single soul.
The moment Grey Shadow was shot down, an agonizing pain—as if a piece of his soul had been violently torn away—and the resulting backlash had pierced through him. Even now, that pain continued to burn dull and hot deep within Valentine's mind.
This agony, blended with the fury of losing his crucial assistant and his wariness of Matthew's astonishing archery, fermented into the purest form of killing intent.
With these thoughts, Valentine pulled himself together. Utilizing the chaos created by his companions, he closed in on the young man at high speed, moving in a rapid zigzag pattern.
Facing this sudden, surprisingly organized onslaught—especially seeing the horse bandits charging forward with bloodshot eyes for the twenty gold coins while the Beast Whisperer took the opportunity to insidiously close in—Matthew felt something unexpected. The first emotion that surged within him was not panic, but a nearly absurd sense of amusement. He could barely hold back a scoff.
They want to close the distance? Do they think I can only shoot from afar and will be helpless once they get close?
He looked at the horse bandits howling and rushing forward for the gold. In his eyes, they were no different from running targets.
Before the thought even finished, he raised his bow once more.
The bowstring vibrated repeatedly!
Thwack! Thwack!
Two arrows left the string almost back-to-back, precisely sinking into the throat and chest of the two leading bandits who were running nearly side-by-side.
Brief, choked screams rang out as the two stumbled and fell, instantly causing the momentum of this small charge to falter.
At the exact moment the arrows left the string, when his old strength was spent and new strength had yet to gather, the dark figure that had been biding its time suddenly erupted!
“Kid!”
Valentine seized the extremely brief window right after Matthew loosed his arrows. Lunging out from behind a collapsed carriage shaft, his speed surged as he became a bolt of black lightning skimming the ground. A pair of poisoned short daggers in his hands carved cold, eerie blue arcs through the air, thrusting straight toward Matthew's chest and throat!
The distance between them was now less than a breath.
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