Warriors will die if they charge.

Upon returning to town and disembarking from the boat, Jenny hurriedly said goodbye and immediately headed to the Mage Association.

Marcus wanted to go to Granny Keshach's hut immediately to ask about Navatl; she must know something, and might even be a survivor who escaped the Bloodline of Doom.

But Bardin suddenly pointed to the street on one side of the dock:

"Hard man, your Baron is back again? Looks like things aren't going to be easy for you from now on."

Marcus looked toward the street on one side of the dock and saw a man in silver armor riding a tall horse, gleaming in the golden glow of the setting sun.

The knight led two squads of soldiers with distinctly different temperaments. Some soldiers had branding scars on their faces, symbolizing deserters, and carried longswords and maces at an angle. Their postures seemed casual and undisciplined, but their formations were orderly.

Other soldiers were much more formal; they were significantly fewer in number than the former, and carried spears and shields, with insignia bearing ivy patterns on their breastplates.

This strange group quickly attracted everyone's attention. Neighbors flocked out of their houses, carrying bowls and chopsticks, eager to catch a glimpse of a species never before seen in Linhe Town—the knights.

"How much did you say that armor cost? It looks shiny, it's not silver, is it?"

"Fool, if it's silver armor, it's worthless and offers no protection whatsoever."

"You're the fool. Only the silver armor is valuable."

With a sense of excitement, Marcus, whose adventure had just ended, followed the crowd of onlookers to the town square where the ceremony and activities were being held.

The knight pulled on the reins under the chestnut tree in the center of the square, turning his horse around. The setting sun slowly sank, its rays filtering through the dense foliage and illuminating the ornate helmet. Through the slit in the helmet, he saw a pair of firm and powerful eyes.

The villagers thought he was about to speak, so they stopped fiddling with the bowls and chopsticks, wiped their hands on their trousers, and waited for the unknown knight to bestow some gold and silver, and then assign a wife to each bachelor. He took off his helmet, revealing his handsome face, so that the women would dream of him.

But the knight stood motionless under the chestnut tree like a statue, and even his horse seemed to freeze in place under its master's influence.

A burly man with a smooth head covered in tattoos walked up to the knight. He wore old leather armor and a tattered linen coat, but spoke like a king, shouting in a strange accent in Common:

"Standing before you is Baron Moraka Vissi, whose father is Baron Morgan Vissi, whom you deeply admire and who led Riverside Town to prosperity in the rainforest. His grandfather is Sir Pilos Vissi, the master of this rainforest. Now, kneel before your lord and show your loyalty!"

People looked at each other, puzzled as to what the bald man was up to.

Baron? Didn't he run off to Silver Mountain City forty years ago? He lived a good life in the city on the silver he had previously squeezed out. The people who were abandoned in the mines began to live around the river docks and also lived a good life without paying taxes.

"Then let our Baron say something. Where did you come from, you idiot?" The militiaman Kuran, carrying a long spear, picked his nose and sized up the burly bald man who was speaking. He had never seen a Baron since he was born, let alone knew anything about nobles.

Linhe Town is not a lawless place; if you try to take advantage of the locals, you'll pay the price.

"I am Moraz, the Baron's younger brother!"

"But you look more like a beggar."

The laughter of boys coming from the crowd angered Moraz. He raised his hand to stop the mercenaries behind him from drawing their weapons, and his eyes swept over the villagers who were watching the show.

"Who said that? Step forward! How dare you offend the Visi family! According to the law, a commoner who insults a noble should have their tongue pulled out!"

Marcus shielded the witty young York behind him and raised his right hand:

"I said it, I said your head is bald, like a hairless goblin."

A young man standing next to Marcus also raised his right hand: "And he's a castrated goblin, so loose-skinned that you could stuff a palm tree inside."

"Even a water ghost is better looking than this idiot. So having a lot of tattoos makes you a nobleman? I'm going to get my little brother covered in tattoos later. Maybe even that eunuch from Japas will fall in love with him."

"It must have been so hard for Mrs. Vichy to give birth to such an ugly child. Life must have been very tiring," the woman carrying the wicker basket sighed.

Hey, you've already said everything, what am I supposed to say?

Marcus was puzzled. Looking at Moraz, whose face had turned ashen amidst the mockery, he loudly echoed, "Hey, Moraz."

Moraz had his eye on the man who had stepped forward. His face flushed, he gritted his teeth and growled, "Kneel down, you lowly commoner!"

"You know what, I'm in a great mood today, and seeing you... makes it even better, hahaha."

The loudest voice in the crowd was naturally Marcus, who believed that as a fellow countryman, he should definitely protect the interests of his fellow countrymen.

The bald goblin must be made aware that Riverside Town is not a lawless place, and that there is no need for a baron riding on someone's head here.

He led little York to Tracy's side, gesturing for her to keep an eye on the witty, boisterous child, put down the burlap sack full of cassava from his shoulder, and walked to the front of the crowd.

Moraz's angry expression turned somewhat serious after seeing Marcus in person.

The warrior was a professional, with long, deep breaths and strong, powerful limbs. His thick neck indicated that the young man in front of him was extremely resilient to blows, completely different from the farmers and laborers who were just there to watch.

And the tattoo on his right arm... Is he a rainforest barbarian?

"Who are you?"

"Marcus Norfitz is currently an adventurer looking for work everywhere he goes."

The dry humor made Moraz place his hand on the hilt of his sword: "Adventurer? Then get out of here and don't delay Baron Moraka's important business."

"He's a local, you fool." Kuran stepped forward as well, spear in hand, his sharp eyes meeting the menacing mercenary leader's.

"I mean, compared to the Baron who disappeared for forty years ago, even a rat in the town looks more like a local than him."

Moraz was far more cautious than his outwardly violent nature suggested; he kept subtly gesturing to the soldiers behind him to prevent further conflict.

But he wasn't a real baron after all; a real baron naturally doesn't have to take orders from anyone.

Baron Moraka, who had remained silent until now, kicked his horse's flanks and steadily walked up to the two young men who had instigated the disturbance. He lowered his head, and a cold voice came from beneath his helmet:

"Kneel down."

"In Linhe Town, we don't kneel before anyone." Kuran smacked his lips and spat on the knight's beautiful saddle.

Since the silver mines were exhausted, the southern desert kingdom has fallen into internal strife, and Linhe Town, which was established less than a hundred years ago, has become a forgotten corner of the rainforest.

The towering Saddle Mountains isolated the city from the northern Silver Mountain City. Timber merchants would only sail here in their ships after the Nileka River had passed its flood season, exchanging rare items and the people's cherished gold and silver for expensive ebony and mahogany.

Nobility, rule, kingdoms—these are simply unbelievable in the world of most young people. We're doing alright, why should we let a bunch of fat pigs ride on our heads and exploit us?

A water ghost queen is already a headache enough, and now a king has appeared. They must get along very well.

Both sides get what they want: the queen only wants your body and blood, while the king demands your soul and loyalty.

Saliva turned a deep yellow in the sunlight. A long, pure silver sword easily brushed away the saliva that was about to fall onto the saddle. The knight, blade in hand, aimed at Kuran.

"You deserve to die."