"He only uses one arrow at a time, and there are so many of us. Why be afraid? Let’s charge together!"

In every team, there are impulsive people.

Some were swayed.

The man with glasses remained silent, pleased to see someone standing in front.

Archer didn’t retreat, just calmly said, "One arrow at a time can still target one person. There are twenty-one of you. Who do you think I will target first?"

He moved the target of his bow, sweeping over the people in front, "Is it you, you, or you?"

The last one he aimed at was the man who had just spoken.

The man was startled and instinctively stopped in his tracks.

When he realized he had been intimidated by a kid, he felt embarrassed and toughened his neck, "Come on, try if you dare!"

He pointed at his own neck.

Archer stood still in his original spot.

His composure was strong, and he was cool enough; for several minutes, his bow-drawing hand didn’t move, nor did his arm shake.

Stable, like a steadfast pine.

The man was provoking, Archer merely glanced at him, his arm tensed, pulling the bow to its full extent.

The youth’s movements were fast. The arrow just lodged near the man’s foot. The next arrow was already on the bow.

The fierce sound of the arrow slicing through the air seemed still to echo around, startling a cold sweat from the man.

The crowd that had been jesting suddenly fell silent, even the man with glasses couldn’t help but take a few more looks at Archer.

In the shadows.

James’s men looked at each other.

It seemed none had expected the youth to possess such skills.

This was no longer a farce since Archer had made his move.

The atmosphere tensed.

Hannah sat inside the house, unable to see Archer’s expression through the gap in the curtains, but she saw the terror in the eyes of others.

But only a few were scared.

Too troublesome.

She felt Archer was still too kind.

This was Blery, the devil’s haven, a human hell.

Not a place for reasoning.

Every person you mercifully spare will turn into the blade that might claim your life.

...

A chilly breeze blew up, with it fine rain, bone-chilling cold, and a haunting children’s rhyme.

Like music from an old music box.

Lively, vivacious, with a mechanical coldness.

The door to the stone house opened.

A little girl, like a snowball, stood in the doorway, waving at everyone.

She said, "Hello there."

Her smile was sweet, beautiful.

Instantly, it captured everyone’s gaze.

The man with glasses looked over, so did the youth with a scar on his face.

Only those hidden in the darkness concealed their figures.

Archer’s expression shifted slightly. He stepped back next to Hannah and whispered, "Get inside quickly."

Hannah didn’t move.

She continued to smile sweetly at the crowd, "Are you visitors here?"

The little girl looked so easily deceived.

Naturally, everyone assumed she would be easier to handle than Archer.

The man with glasses stepped forward, "Yes, may we come in?"

Archer was about to speak, but Hannah grabbed his hand.

Her expression looked conflicted and worried, "If I let you in, can you promise not to mess up my house?"

The man with glasses said, "Of course."

The little girl’s smile deepened, "Then please, come in."

Long ago, she had invited a poisonous woman into her house in the same manner.

The woman who had been shouting eagerly started to walk inside.

She directly pushed past Hannah, who stood aside.