CHAPTER 211: CHAPTER 161: DIRECT ARREST (PART 2)

Frank had no surprises.

This is how villages that robbers visit are.

Soon, the scout sent ahead ran up to Frank,

"Sir Frank, more than half the people in this village have been taken away, many houses have been emptied, only a few elderly remain."

"The robbers have long withdrawn, there are no traces of enemies in the village."

In fact, before the team set out, Frank had already sent out scouts.

And the scout hadn’t returned to report, which meant there were no traces of robbers found, so Frank wasn’t worried.

Frank didn’t like being ordered around by the messenger Honier, so he didn’t explain to him.

As a Knight, Frank had no need to explain to Honier.

Frank nodded slightly and pointed ahead, asking,

"What is that place? I see smoke coming out of the chimney."

"The village’s broken tavern, no one else inside except the tavern owner," the scout reported.

"Alright, we’ll rest there tonight."

"Yes, sir."

The scout led the way ahead.

Soon, Frank saw the wooden sign of the "Desolate Hill Tavern."

The sign swayed in the cold wind, making a creaking sound, almost falling off.

It was indeed very broken.

The attendant stepped forward and pushed open the wooden door.

The tavern was also cold and deserted, dim yellow light illuminating a few empty tables.

The sound of the wooden door startled the tavern owner who was lying on a table.

The owner was an old man of similar age to Frank, and sat up straight with a jolt upon hearing the sound.

Seeing Frank, his eyes instantly showed terror,

"We, we have nothing left, everything’s robbed!"

"I’m Frank Wood Hammer, a knight under Count Hawk’s command, here to eliminate robbers."

Frank introduced himself calmly.

"Oh, it’s the esteemed knight!"

The old man breathed a sigh of relief, his face turning from terror to obsequiousness,

"Welcome to Desolate Hill Tavern, esteemed knight."

The old man bowed, rubbing his hands with a look of apology, his voice trembling slightly from nervousness.

"Delighted to meet you; unfortunately, we’ve just been robbed, so we can’t offer you food. Even the drinks are down to half a barrel of poor-quality ale the robbers didn’t want..."

"Are clean rooms and fire pits still available?"

Frank asked.

The old man nodded hurriedly, bowing, "Yes, yes, we have those!"

"That’s good then."

Frank waved slightly, and the soldiers immediately brought a bag of food, filled with baked dry cakes, gently placing it on the table.

Then Frank instructed, "We have food, prepare ten fire pits, then cook a pot of hot soup and boil some water."

"If you’re hungry, you can eat with us."

"You’re the most generous knight I’ve ever seen!"

The old man was overjoyed, "Rest assured, I’ll prepare the fire pits and hot soup for you right away!"

The old man immediately ran out, soon returning with two fire pits in his hands.

Frank found a place to sit, took off his heavy gloves, and rubbed his frozen red fingers.

He watched the old man running back and forth and asked, "Why are you alone? Where are the others?"

"Alas—"

The old man sighed, "They were taken by the robbers. Only useless folks like me were left."

Frank nodded slightly, the old man’s words matched the scout’s.

"Have you seen the robbers? How many were there, and what did they look like?"

Frank pressed on.

"A lot, I couldn’t count."

The old man recalled, with a hint of fear in his eyes, "The leader was a man as stout as a bear, with a fierce face, looking very scary..."

The old man paused: "Sir, let me first prepare the hot soup and fire pits, then I’ll tell you in detail, okay?"

"Hm, go ahead."

Frank waved his hand, and said to the attendant beside him: "Ilan, take two people to help out."

"Yes, sir."

Ilan immediately got up, called two soldiers, and followed the old man to the kitchen and wood shed.

The soldiers had traveled for most of the day, very tired, leaning against chairs in pairs, half asleep.

However, Frank was strict; their helmets were set aside, and weapons tightly held, ready to handle potential dangers.

Fire pits and hot soup were gradually brought out.

The soldiers gathered around the fire pits, warming their hands and feet, breaking dry cakes to dip in hot soup, enjoying a nice meal.

This warm bite immediately dispelled the cold from their journey.

...

...

Night fell.

The icy moonlight sprinkled over the snow, reflecting a cold glow.

Frank personally arranged the night guards, dividing them into three shifts, leaving no corner unchecked.

"Remember, don’t just watch the front door, also keep an eye on the back door and the village."

Frank advised, "The situation here is very unusual, no one can slack off."

"Yes, Sir Frank."

The soldiers on guard duty responded.

After instructing everyone else to rest well, Frank returned to his room, locking the door latch from the inside.

He kept his heavy armor on, placing his sword within reach by the bed, and adopted a strange posture to start cultivating the Breathing Technique.

Though Frank now no longer had hope of advancing to Advanced Knight, he never stopped cultivating.

This practice had been carried out for more than thirty years, already ingrained in his bones, truly like breathing.

Frank’s chest slowly rose and fell, his breaths gradually becoming even and deep.

His face, under the oil lamp, appeared steady and resolute, the usual tense lines gradually relaxing.