After speaking, she then pushed against the man’s chest with her hand.

The look in her eyes said, "You understand."

The bespectacled man was tempted, his mind running wild, but as the leader of the group, he managed to maintain his composure.

"Kid, it’s not that the uncle is unreasonable," he said, "I just want to borrow your house to rest for one night. After tonight, the house will definitely be returned to you."

The bespectacled man looked somewhat genteel when he smiled.

If it had been an ordinary child, that statement would have been quite persuasive.

But Archer was no ordinary child.

Neither was Hannah.

Even though the door was locked from the inside, she could still hear the conversation outside.

She thought Archer was being too well-behaved.

His words were not frightening at all.

Indeed, in the eyes of others, Archer seemed more like a well-mannered little gentleman, a prince locked in a castle.

The thing that set Hannah and her environment most at odds was her clean eyeglasses and the innocence in her smile.

But with Archer, it was the feeling he gave off.

If one had to describe it, Archer was like a prince in distress, lured to their place by the little witch Hannah.

The group outside thought Archer was just blustering but cowardly at heart.

Only the boy in the group with a fierce look and a scar under his eye took a couple of extra glances at Archer.

His instinct sparked a caution toward Archer.

Like a wolf encountering a lion.

Not natural enemies, yet still with a sense of oppression.

In the shadows, James’s people were discussing.

"Is that little witch too scared to come out?"

"She’s chickened out, I bet. The rumors about her by the others made her sound too legendary. She’s just a seven-year-old girl, how could she possibly defy the heavens?"

"It’s no joke, you know how vicious the old hag can be, right? But up against this little witch, you wouldn’t even find scraps left of her."

"Without witnessing it personally, who can tell if it’s true? Perhaps the old hag got marked by people from the refugee sector."

In Bree, if the refugee area was called purgatory on earth, then the area where escapees lived was the real hell.

In other words, if the people over there get the whim one day to hunt in the refugee area as if it were a game reserve, not one of this group would escape.

There had been incidents like this in the past.

"Alright, shut up everyone!" James commanded, and everyone fell silent.

...

Although Archer appeared amenable, his attitude was quite firm.

He wouldn’t budge.

The bespectacled man also completely lost his patience and casually singled out a few people to take action.

That’s when Archer also picked up his bow and arrows.

Nocking an arrow, drawing the bow, pushing it forward.

The bow split the air from top to bottom, tracing out an arc.

Targeting the man standing at the very front.

Even without the strong sunlight, the arrowhead still glinted with a cold light.

This wasn’t a toy.

It was a real weapon.

The man at the forefront halted instantly in his steps.

The boy’s pitch-black eyes were unfeeling and emotionless, calm like a windless surface of water, only darkness below.

The bespectacled man’s arm around the woman tightened instantly, causing her pain, but she didn’t dare make a sound.

"Kid, what are you doing?" the man asked.

Archer looked at him, his bow-holding posture unchanged, "I said, no one is allowed to approach this place."

This was a warning.

The man’s gaze behind his glasses shifted slightly, but the friendly expression remained on his face, "Okay, we’ll leave immediately. Just put down the bow and arrows first."

The kind of lie you tell to a child.

Archer made no concessions.

Someone couldn’t stand being threatened by a nine-year-old child and spoke up directly.