Chapter 143: Negotiation (Part Two)

The bandits' proposal had been put forward, seeming to offer the best of both worlds with room for maneuver on both sides. Yet upon closer analysis, the proposal itself held no real benefit for the bandits at all.

To take a step back, even if the military agreed to let them integrate into society, what would happen after that integration? Whose hands controlled society? How were such a massive number of people to be settled? As a new mercenary group? They would easily be suppressed; the Mercenary Alliance, the military, and other institutions were all interconnected. Act as a mercenary group on the surface while continuing to rob in secret? That would simply provide a convenient excuse to catch them red-handed and wipe them out in one fell swoop.

To execute a strategy like this, one needed backing from the upper echelons of society—at the very least, someone at the level of a city lord, under whose banner the bandits could transition. Without any connections, to say nothing of the bandit leader's feeble-minded communicative abilities, even if the mastermind acted as a full-time babysitter throughout the process, the ruse could never hold up.

Why had the bandits been able to run so rampant? The mastermind was one aspect, but the fundamental reason lay in their geographical advantage. This area was shrouded in mist year-round, characterized by hilly terrain where crystal balls struggled to detect anything, and a vast network of underground caves and traps had already been excavated. Without this terrain, no matter how formidable the mastermind might be, it would have been impossible to train bandits to the point where they could trade blows head-on with a regular army.

For the bandits to walk out of this region and integrate into society would mean abandoning their own advantages and stepping onto the "enemy's" turf. Having suffered the grief of losing his son, would General Oude spare them?

If they refused to integrate into society, what else could they do? Kevin and the others put themselves in the bandits' shoes to run through the possibilities, but no matter how they deduced it, they found no way out.

While the bandits indeed held a geographical advantage, that advantage was not infinitely effective. When a Saint-tier powerhouse was truly enraged, all those so-called fortifications and caves were nothing more than loose dirt beneath a sword. At worst, they could simply plow through the area plot by plot. It might take a bit of time, but a week or two would suffice. A single sword strike, regardless of who was hiding inside, would collapse the cave directly and bury them alive. Taking it a step back, if even a Sword Saint couldn't handle it, the only option left would be to summon a giant staff and scour the place with magic.

Therefore, if General Oude truly disregarded his captives and forced an attack, the mastermind would be utterly helpless. Even if the mastermind stepped out into the open, they would meet certain death, whoever they might be. The bandits would be left with only one path—madly engaging in debauchery so that they could at least live more brilliantly in their final moments.

This was the interior of the Lubor Kingdom, not a borderland, let alone a foreign country. Even if the mastermind were a spatial mage, without official registration and permission, it was impossible to open space for teleportation here. The nationwide network of teleportation arrays in the Lubor Kingdom served both as a means of transport and as a stabilizing device for the spatial boundaries throughout the country. Without special clearance, teleportation by individual force alone was exceedingly difficult. Moreover, even if a teleportation were successfully executed, its coordinates would be automatically recorded, leaving nowhere to hide.

Strictly speaking, the military would not compromise with bandits, and the captives were soldiers, not civilians or nobles. It was just that the news had not yet spread widely, allowing for a temporary waiting period. But if the General lost his patience, this farce could be brought to an end.

Forward deductions, reverse deductions—no matter how one reasoned it, given the current situation, the bandits were facing certain death. As for the notion of getting the General to promise to spare the bandits, that was an absolute joke. When the time came, the General would simply cast a glance at his subordinates, who would rush forward and hack everyone to pieces. The reply could even be given with complete innocence: "I promised to spare you, but he didn't," or "What is wrong with you? Didn't you say you'd spare them? Why did you attack? I must give you a mild reprimand..."

To be frank, this era was not a time of chaos; people shouldn't be turning into bandits in the first place. Once the authorities began to take the suppression seriously in times like these, they might suffer setbacks due to certain issues at the start, but the ultimate outcome would never change. The strength of the two sides was drastically disproportionate; scale, individual power, follow-up capability, and public opinion were all overwhelmingly tilted in favor of the regular army.

So what was the mastermind's objective? Would he risk his life against the regular army for the sake of these bandits? Would he genuinely consider the future of the bandits? Would he actually secure real benefits for them? How could that possibly be?

Judging from Start's real-time negotiation results, that voice had threatened to kill him several times, yet the bandits had not taken action. The bandit leader seemed somewhat shaken by Start's words and had temporarily detained him. Presumably, the mastermind's authority was not quite absolute yet. But the question remained: why didn't the mastermind take action himself?

This reminded Kevin of a time in the Kingdom of Lebozier, where the person behind the door had also "ordered" his execution, but in the end, no one made a move. The circumstances then had been far more complex, surrounded by people, where showing oneself meant stepping onto the public stage and potentially triggering a serious diplomatic incident. Furthermore, the timeframe was very short; the Lubor Kingdom's ambassador had arrived swiftly and taken him away.

Yet the situation now was entirely different. Following their discussion, the consensus was that there was no such issue as insufficient strength preventing a murder. Although the mastermind had previously been heavily wounded by Kevin using a catapult, he was still an expert with a myriad of methods at his disposal, while Start was merely a prisoner. Ample time had passed—an entire night had already gone by, and the place was pitch black. Given the capabilities the mastermind had displayed, taking down someone trapped inside a cage should have been effortless.

Why hadn't he made a move? The only logical analysis was that the mastermind was no longer in the bandit lair. They were merely carrying out a remote verbal sparring match through some sort of sound-transmission magic.

In fact, this was quite easy to understand. If General Oude truly lost his temper, charged in, and hacked wildly, causing the mountain to collapse, wouldn't the mastermind end up buried along with them? Even if the mastermind possessed the strength of a Sword Saint, he would still have to escape. That carried a high probability of being discovered by this side, and a three-on-one fight heavily favored their side. Moreover, if the delay was stretched out even a little longer, subsequent Archmages of the Lubor Kingdom would teleport in one after another.

Looked at this way, any mastermind with the slightest bit of foresight would not remain there. For Start, this was genuinely comforting; at least for now, it was a battle of wits and bluffing against the mastermind, rather than a contest of battle qi and brute strength.

So the question circled back: what was the mastermind's objective? Reviewing their conditions carefully, the General's guarantee was hard to verify, integration into society was impossible, but there was also a "one-month" buffer period. What would they do during this month? Unknown. But it was very likely to be unfavorable to the military, such as through public propaganda or the like. The reputation of the Thunder Knights was already beginning to hang by a thread; dragging things out any further would inevitably lead to serious trouble.

Consequently, a message was sent back from the General's side instructing Start to negotiate concerning this "one-month" deadline, ordering him to find every possible way to shorten it—ideally wrapping up the negotiations by tomorrow so the bandits could emerge and "integrate into society."

The negotiation lasted an entire day. Start and that voice exhausted every conceivable means to argue back and forth. Start repeatedly brought up the bandits' plight and attempted to drive a wedge into their relationship. It felt as though some progress had been made, yet simultaneously felt as though nothing had changed. As for the topic of how long they should actually wait, the opponent stubbornly clung to the one-month period and refused to budge.

During the process, the bandits grew bored and began engaging in homosexual acts on the side. The cave echoed with passionate moans and eloquent arguments, presenting a bizarre spectacle.

By the second day, the bickering continued, but both sides gradually ran out of things to say. The exact same lines began to repeat themselves, punctuated by increasingly long periods of silence. Even so, the negotiations were forcibly pushed forward. For Start, if the negotiations failed, he would lose any reason to live. For the mastermind, dragging things out like this was also beneficial. For the bandits, it simply meant living a few days longer.

The only ones feeling frustrated were undoubtedly the military. As the day wore on, not only did General Oude wear a look of impatience, but the two accompanying Sword Saints also appeared somewhat distracted.

A lingering premonition flickered in Kevin's mind: if Start failed to resolve the issue, would it ultimately fall upon his own shoulders? Judging from the reports sent back, the bandits had clearly seen through Kevin's special-effects trickery, meaning Kevin no longer had any excuse not to go.

Another day passed. On this day, the General began glancing at Kevin from time to time, making no effort to conceal his gaze and not caring what Kevin happened to be doing. Sometimes it lasted a few dozen seconds, other times a minute or two. When Kevin raised his head to meet the General's gaze, the General did not look away, forcing Kevin to lower his head to avoid it.

Kevin understood that this was the General's way of hinting that it was his turn to step up. The General didn't state it outright—perhaps due to certain considerations—but the implication was glaringly obvious. If Kevin continued to play dumb, there would likely be two possible outcomes: first, the General would be forced to give a direct order commanding Kevin to go; second, the General would take matters into his own hands. But if the General intervened personally, everyone over there—friend and foe alike—would die, though Kevin himself might survive.

Yet if Kevin went, would it actually solve the problem? Perhaps it would simply mean delivering one more head to the chopping block. This might also be why the General refrained from giving a direct order, because no one knew whether this move would truly be effective. Sometimes rashness and bravery were judged solely by the outcome; success meant bravery, while failure meant rashness. Combat was a gamble, and sometimes no matter how brilliant one's gambling skills were, the result could never be accurately predicted.

This was yet another agonizing choice. Kevin would have preferred the General to simply issue a direct command telling him what to do, leaving him with no way out so he could throw himself into it wholeheartedly, rather than feeling torn and hesitant like this. When Kevin had previously made excuses to shirk the duty, it ultimately stemmed from a fear of death. Yet he didn't wish to see over two hundred captives perish either, which was why he had attempted to suggest sending someone else to negotiate. That way, Kevin could maintain the detachment of a bystander, watching the whole affair unfold as if reading a book; he could admire and praise the person sent to negotiate while suffering no personal loss himself.

However, things did not go smoothly, and after circling around, he was right back at the starting point. Kevin had read countless heroic epics and occasionally fantasized about becoming a hero himself. But when the moment truly arrived, he felt only a numbness in his hands and feet. Sometimes playing the hero was a matter of momentary impulse, but when one actually calmed down, hesitation and second-guessing were inevitable. In fact, the calmer a person was, the more conflicted they became; the less someone believed in gods, the harder it was to march off to a heroic death.

"Sigh!" That night, facing the boundless river of stars, Kevin lay flat on his grass-covered bed, staring up at the sky. Unable to sleep, he could only wander outside to space out.

Suddenly, a crow flew in from the air and landed not far away. In the pitch-black night, Kevin couldn't see clearly, but he guessed it must be him.

The crow stepped closer, moving cautiously and making no sound. Kevin remained lying down, simply turning his head to look at it. The leg ring the crow had previously worn had been replaced with a thicker iron band adorning both of its claws. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen it since returning from the Cardia Hills. Seeing it again now felt like a lifetime ago.

Extending his hand, the crow understood the gesture, gave a light hop, and landed on Kevin's arm. Kevin smiled. "You've gotten fat."

The crow turned its head to look at him without saying a word.

"Looks like you've been doing well for yourself," Kevin continued, followed by a hint of sorrow. "Indeed, much better off than in my hands."

The crow remained silent, merely gazing quietly at Kevin. Kevin looked back at it, man and bird locked in place as if freezing the space around them for a long moment.

"Let's forge a contract," Kevin suddenly said. "An equal one."

The crow showed no reaction, still watching Kevin quietly. Unfortunately, birds possessed no readable expressions, and Kevin suspected the three Sword Saints residing nearby might be observing as well. The crow couldn't speak, nor was it convenient to reply with gestures.

"I'm sorry for dragging my feet and never signing it before," Kevin said, looking up at the sky. "Now that you're in a place far better than mine, I suppose I'm just shamelessly taking advantage. Come on, it's only an equal contract anyway."

The crow remained silent. Kevin nodded, closed his eyes, released his mental energy, and silently chanted the incantation in his heart. Sensing the crow's spiritual energy in the air, they intertwined after a brief moment, and the contract was completed.

This contract formation took significantly less time than the one with Big Sis previously. Part of the reason was that Kevin's mental energy had grown considerably after experiencing major battles, while the crow's formidable spiritual energy had also provided substantial help. Only after the contract was sealed did Kevin truly perceive the "strength" of the crow's spiritual energy; although slightly inferior to his own, for an ordinary bird, this was already of top-tier, genius-level caliber.

"Old pal, you've finally bound yourself to me," the crow's voice echoed through the mental link.

Kevin remained silent.

"Hahaha," the crow even let out a laugh through the contract. "From now on, whenever I do something bad, I can pin the blame on my master. I've finally got someone to take the fall for me,哈哈哈!"

Kevin: "..."

"What on earth are you planning to do?" Kevin finally couldn't help asking, knowing that mental transmissions weren't easily detected by others.

"If that day comes, I'll tell you then," the crow flapped its wings, hopped from Kevin's left side to his right, and back again.

Kevin didn't have much spare energy at the moment to worry about the crow's schemes and steered the conversation back: "I plan to make a trip to the bandit lair tomorrow."

The crow quieted down. "Then what do I need to do?"

"Follow me inside and linger around the area to scout out the entrance of the bandit lair. Your identity is special; as a crow, people might not suspect you. But once suspicion arises, the mastermind might dispatch two owls to ambush you. All you have to do is run—just escape," Kevin instructed.

"No need to blast those two stupid birds to pieces?" The crow was as bellicose as ever.

"Don't. If you blow those two up, I'll be suspected the moment I'm inside the lair. My life will be in danger, so just run away," Kevin replied. "Unless you can use a reverse-summoning technique to pull me out."

The crow fell silent.

"After finding the entrance, don't casually leak it to the generals either. As strong as those Sword Saints are, I can never quite set my mind at ease; they're always destroying heaven and earth, leaving weaklings like me to suffer the collateral damage. Wait for my word; tell them only when I can no longer hold on. As for how to deliver the message, you probably have your own methods, so I won't pry," Kevin added.

"No problem, old pal," the crow answered.

"Thank you," Kevin expressed sincere gratitude. With it around, he felt as though he had no worries left behind.

"Don't mention it," the crow flew off, its mental voice still echoing, "just make sure to take the blame for me whenever I do bad things, ahahaha..."

Kevin: "..." (To be continued.)