Chapter 126: Lying in Wait, Days One and Two

When they retreated, there was no joy and no smiles. The adjutant, covered in mud and grime, led the way on horseback, his horse’s hooves clattering incessantly and with increasing urgency. Even the most dim-witted soul could sense that something was wrong; this pace was less like a triumphant return from victory and more like a desperate flight after a defeat, as if they were terrified that another band of bandits might spring out to block their path, forcing them to flee as quickly as possible.

No one dared to voice this, for to do so would mean acknowledging that the bandits had not been wiped out and that the mission must continue. But this place had become a nightmare for everyone; no one wanted to stay a second longer. To speak the truth would also mean admitting the failure of the Order of the Thunder Knights. As one of the kingdom’s three elite knightly orders, suffering defeat at the hands of mere bandits was absolutely intolerable.

If word of this leaked out, it would not only bring shame upon the legion but upon the nation itself. The common soldiers might receive light punishment, but as the commanding officer, the adjutant would essentially have to pay with his life. At best, the method of his demise might vary—either imprisoned for a few days awaiting trial or, out of a shred of mercy, granted the grace to commit suicide. In times of peace, few soldiers fell in battle; if even one or two died, their superiors would have to apologize and pay reparations, often stalling their careers or leading to demotions. To lose over 180 men, all of whom were elites, meant the officer could not possibly survive the fallout.

Fortunately, there was room for debate. A mass casualty event could be labeled an accident—a sudden mountain collapse. Besides, they had "won" in a sense; they had indeed killed a few bandits. If bandits appeared again after some time, it could be blamed on a new group, not attributed to them. Unless the bandits were captured later and confessed to having crushed the Order of the Thunder Knights, which would be awkward. But the probability of that was slim; for now, staying alive was the priority.

They galloped, and galloped, and galloped again. Tree branches whipped across their faces, but they only brushed them aside reflexively as the fog began to rise once more. A commander's mood easily infects the entire team; the more panicked he was, the more tense the men became. Fear and unease were etched onto every face, as if an invisible devil were chasing them from behind, ready to devour them if they slowed down by even a second.

They could not remember how many hills they had crested, only that suddenly, the surrounding mist vanished, the ground leveled out, and the horizon opened up before them.

The adjutant finally straightened his back and reined in his horse, causing the men behind him to come to a halt. They had finally crossed the boundary out of the depths of the Caludia Hills; from this point on, they were safe.

At the edge of the perimeter, a squad of constables trotted over. They had been patrolling near the border all along, waiting to intercept any bandits who might attempt to flee.

"Officer, is that you?" the constable asked, saluting.

The adjutant calmed himself and returned the salute. "Yes, it is us. The bandits have been wiped out. Our mission is complete."

The constable hesitated, looking back at their rear guard. There were only about twenty riders left, followed by nearly a hundred riderless horses, some still carrying equipment. The adjutant and his men instinctively looked back as well. When the adjutant had led his men into the water to assault the cave, the horses had been left on the bank. These horses were well-trained and only needed a few hand signals to follow along.

Looking at them now, for a fleeting moment, it felt as if the knights were still in the saddles, ready to laugh and fight as they always did. But in the blink of an eye, reality snapped back—there were only horses, while the knights themselves remained forever buried beneath that nameless hill.

Many men, including Lieutenant House, shed tears. The trails of moisture ran down their filthy faces, leaving two distinct tracks through the grime, before they instinctively rubbed their faces, blurring the marks. They were brothers who had eaten and slept together, yet only now did the grief truly take hold.

"Let's go back," the adjutant ordered weakly, and the team moved on in silence. The constable still had many questions, but seeing their state, he decided not to press them. Besides, since the adjutant had explicitly stated the bandits were wiped out, there was nothing left to ask.

While there was sorrow on one side, the bandits were naturally jubilant. They had not been wiped out, of course; they had merely sacrificed a small outpost. They had sent a dozen men as cannon fodder, and when the knights charged in, they used magic to collapse the cave’s support pillars. From the moment they sent out their negotiators, they had set a trap, and from the moment they lured the knights with dogs for tracking, the knights had fallen for their scheme.

This was their territory, and they had fully utilized the geographical advantage to draw the enemy in. They hadn't expected the adjutant to tunnel his way out, but even then, he had been half-dead, and the remaining twenty-odd men were of little threat.

To the bandits, this was the best possible outcome. Not only had they won the battle, but the enemy was now terrified into hiding the truth, meaning no new army would come to suppress them for a long time. Because, as far as the kingdom was concerned, they had been "wiped out."

Inside the bandit base, everyone was cheering. They had defeated the Order of the Thunder Knights! They had defeated the elite legion of a great power! Although all the tactics had been provided by the "Urinal Mage," it did not matter. The Urinal Mage belonged to the urinal, and the urinal belonged to them; therefore, it was equivalent to them, the protagonists, using the urinal to defeat a powerful enemy. The Order of the Thunder Knights was at least two levels stronger than them on average, and the adjutant’s strength far exceeded their own. How could this be explained?

It could only be explained by "Protagonist Halo"! A group of bandits had found a passage in *The Legend of Rex* where Rex triggered a landslide to kill a main god he could not otherwise defeat. They naturally mapped this plot onto themselves, feeling that their experience was so similar to the protagonist's that they must be the protagonists themselves!

"Hahahaha!" the bandit leader roared with laughter. "I am the protagonist! From today on, I am changing my name. I shall be called Rex! I am invincible! Invincible! A-hahaha!"

"No! I should be the one called Rex! I am the protagonist!" another immediately protested.

"I want to be Rex too! I am the one who is invincible!"

The Urinal Mage stood to the side, shaking his head helplessly. He was one of the bodyguards of Bradley, a retired general of the Lyon Empire. After the general retired, he began traveling to various places, attempting to play a role in perfecting the empire's former strategic goals. He had spent the recent period wandering through the lower-class taverns of the Lobor Kingdom, listening to various versions of these similar "trope-heavy" stories.

He did not feel inspired, nor did he feel disdain; rather, he was observing carefully and utilizing what he saw. What were the characteristics of these trope-heavy stories? There was no need to elaborate; it had been said enough. What would happen if a group of people with little culture and little ability to distinguish right from wrong listened to these stories day in and day out?

Bradley had not known at first, but he felt it was worth a try. Religion could brainwash people through miracles and dry, boring theories. But these stories were not only plentiful but addictive; people wanted to keep reading them, and one could find a pile of them anywhere. If he just tweaked them slightly and added his own brand of deception, couldn't they be used for brainwashing?

Through a truly dilapidated urinal, the general had successfully gained the trust of this generation of bandits, convincing them that he was the protagonist. Seeing that their minds were settled, the general had departed, leaving the matter to his bodyguard, Robes. Robes was the general's most loyal guard; after the general retired, he was the only one who retired with him and continued to serve as his bodyguard. He was himself a top-tier, high-ranking Earth mage, and constructing tunnels and digging through hills was his specialty.

Arriving at the bandit base and accompanying a group of idiots was a tedious chore. Robes loved the days he spent with the general; he felt that by being with a wise man, he too was elevated. But for now, he had to lower his own intelligence just to ensure he didn't subconsciously despise them.

"Everyone, don't argue. You are all protagonists. You can be called 'Rex-Out,' you can be called 'Rex-After,' and you can be called 'Rex-Before.' Even though there is *The Legend of Rex*, aren't there also *The Side Story of Rex*, *The Sequel to Rex*, and *The Prequel to Rex*? Everyone is a protagonist; there is no need to fight," Robes explained casually.

The bandits were stunned for a moment, then many nodded. "That makes a lot of sense."

The bandit leader looked confused. "Why does that feel a bit off? Urinal Mage? This..." Here, Robes did not reveal his real name, continuing to use the title passed down by the general: Urinal Mage.

"Now is not the time to consider that," Robes hurriedly changed the subject. "There is still that trebuchet that hasn't left." In fact, after spending time with them, Robes clearly felt that this bandit nest was held together almost entirely by him. If he were to leave, it would not last long. Because everyone thought of themselves as the protagonist, and no one was afraid of death, if they started fighting, it would be a fight to the death—how could that work? But it didn't matter; it was just a short-term test anyway. If there were any results, it wouldn't have been a waste of time.

"Right, that 'Five-Load-Bearing-Wheels' is still there!" The crowd was bewildered. "What should we do? Should we take him out?"

Robes spoke up: "This 'Five-Load-Bearing-Wheels' is extraordinary. Legend has it that in a military exercise, it took out the strength of two regiments. It is even stronger than the Order of the Thunder Knights."

"Really? That strong?" "Can't tell just by looking at it, can you?" The crowd erupted in discussion.

"You'll know if you watch its actions," Robes tried to explain. "Since it came in, it has never run around blindly, but instead found a hole to hide in. This..."

"Hahahaha!" The bandits were already roaring with laughter. "Isn't that just playing the coward? Hahaha!"

Robes’ face darkened. When it came down to it, weren't they the ones playing the cowards? If they truly had the ability, they would have gone out and fought the Order of the Thunder Knights head-on.

"Just tell us what to do now?" the bandit leader grew impatient.

"I have said that the 'Five-Load-Bearing-Wheels' has high points; getting it will allow you to exchange for more things," Robes replied. "But there is no need to rush. It has set up many fortifications and traps there; a direct assault would result in heavy casualties. Let's wait. Their main force has already retreated; sooner or later, it will have to leave."

"I understand," the bandit leader nodded. "We'll mess him up on the road after he comes out."

"Mess him up! Mess him up!" The group below suddenly grew excited.

Robes just smiled. "After this battle ends, there should be a period of rest. You can arrange things yourselves by then." After saying this, the air distorted, and after the dust settled, Robes disappeared from the spot. As the Urinal Mage, he naturally had to "return" to the urinal from time to time. In reality, it was just a burrowing spell—an intermediate Earth magic. Of course, to keep up appearances, he created a screen of dust. The bandits only saw a cloud of smoke, and then the man was gone, so they naturally assumed he had returned to the urinal. Idiots were certainly easy to fool.

Meanwhile, over on Kevin's side, they were still building fortifications. As for the parrot that should have flown back, Kevin had ordered it to hide in place and move slowly, emphasizing that they must be cautious.

"How much longer do we have to stay here?" Grey couldn't help but complain.

"Uh... three or five days, maybe," Kevin said with a dry laugh.

"Our dried meat is about to run out," Start said, spreading his hands. "We can only last until tomorrow at most. Do we really have to stay here for another three or five days?"

Grey also shook his head. "I'm sick of eating this dried meat."

"Then we'll just have to catch whatever we can eat," Kevin said, shrugging. "In the wild, don't be too picky."

Grey picked up his bow and arrows. "How about we go out and hunt some game?"

"You can go out," Kevin warned, "but absolutely do not go more than 50 meters away from here, unless you want to die."

Grey shrugged, lay down on the cart, and decided to rest. Start looked at Kevin with a complex expression, but Kevin just waved his hand, signaling him not to ask. Another day passed this way. That night, the three of them took turns standing guard again, their physical exhaustion increasing with each passing day.

When morning came, they drank some dew, took the last of the dried meat, divided it into three portions, and began rationing it. Grey frowned and chewed twice. "Cough, cough! Ugh! I can't swallow it! Why is fighting these bandits so tiring? How much longer?"

"Soon," Kevin replied. "Once they've wiped out the bandits, we'll leave."

"But how long is that exactly?" Grey was impatient.

"Uh... three or five days, maybe."

"Why is that the same answer as yesterday?" Grey was very unsatisfied.

"Start, you go talk to him; don't be so emotional," Kevin had to kick the can to Start.

Start wasn't happy either, but he said, "Forget it. Being a soldier, there's nothing we can do. That's just how it is."

Grey tossed the dried meat back. "I'm not eating it. I'll just throw it up anyway."

"Just endure it a little longer," Kevin urged.

"Why?" Grey couldn't help but question. "It's so quiet out there; it doesn't feel like there's any danger! Let's go, shall we?"

"You think so?" Kevin sneered. "Do you think I don't want to leave? Do you think I like eating dried meat? If you don't want to live, then go ahead."

Grey remained silent for a moment before sitting back down.

Start spoke up: "This bit of meat isn't enough to go around. What are we going to do for the next three or five days? You might not die from hunger for three days, but if your hands are weak, how are you going to fight? Catch whatever we can eat? Our range of activity is so limited; what could we possibly catch without going out?"

Kevin turned to look at the donkey pulling his cart. "If it comes to it, we'll have to slaughter one."

Start's face turned pale; he suddenly realized the severity of the situation had far exceeded his imagination.

Kevin simply signaled him once more not to ask any further questions.