Half a mile north of the Giant Stone Town Garrison Camp, a dozen remaining bandits, relying on the pitch-black night, dared to confront the black-robed Soldiers on outer patrol from several hundred paces away, knowing Art's army would not easily pursue them.
Art, protected by Tuba and a few others, walked out of the camp to the place where the two forces were confronting each other.
A bowshot away, a middle-aged man holding a torch kept glancing at the Boulder Town Camp nearby to observe the movements of the defenders, then turning back to check if his bandit brothers behind him had abandoned him, appearing very anxious.
Art looked at Tuba with a questioning gaze; Tuba shook his head, indicating there was nothing unusual around, then Art took a few steps forward and loudly asked, "I hear you want to ransom someone from me?"
The middle-aged man heard someone speak from the opposite side, quickly stood on tiptoes to look, and replied with a trembling voice, "Patrol Officer, it is I who wish to ransom someone. I beg you, please do not kill my son; he was only a minor accomplice, and besides, he is still just a half-grown boy. If you could mercifully spare our Big Boss, I would be willing to pay any price to redeem him."
Art could tell that the bandit leader on the other side was genuinely anxious; this feeling could not be faked. "Your Big Boss has already gone to hell. As for your little Bastard, I haven't killed him yet, but that little Bastard is very fierce; I'm afraid he's already shed quite a bit of blood. It's not so easy to ransom a bandit who has committed many evil deeds."
When the Second Leader heard that the Big Boss had been killed, he felt a sense of relief. Ransoming a minor bandit was always slightly simpler than ransoming a bandit leader.
"Master, my son hasn't been a bandit for long, and he has no sins on his hands. We are all unfortunate farmers forced into banditry. As long as Master spares my son's life, I will agree to anything you ask."
After the middle-aged man finished speaking, there was a long silence from the other side. After waiting for a while, the middle-aged man quickly continued to plead, "Master, whether you want money or my life, I am willing, I only ask that you release my son."
There was still no response from the other side, and the middle-aged man truly grew anxious. He plopped down on his knees, kowtowing towards the other side, and pleaded bitterly again.
After a long while, a voice finally came from the other side, "Are you the leader of these remaining bandits?"
The middle-aged man kneeling on the ground didn't understand the question at first. After thinking for a moment, he replied with a face full of suspicion, "Yes... yes, Master, I am their Second Leader."
After answering this strange question, the other side fell silent for a moment, and then a puzzling sentence finally came, "Five days from now, you alone will bring three thousand fenny to this spot to ransom your son. Remember, only you, or I will kill that little Bastard."
The middle-aged man quickly replied, "Master, no need for five days, I will go back immediately to raise the money, and I can send the ransom over tomorrow."
"I said five days, so it's five days. If you come early, I will kill your little Bastard too." Art roared at the other side and said no more, heading straight back into the camp.
The dozen remaining bandits north of the camp stood their ground for a while longer before finally disappearing into the boundless night.
Until the latter half of the night, Art was busy directing people to treat the Soldiers who were seriously or lightly wounded in the daytime battle. Because the quartermaster Soldiers with certain medical skills also suffered heavy casualties and there were no specialized herbs or first-aid tools here, Art could only order people to take out the cotton cloth stored in the camp, boil it thoroughly in an iron pot, dry it over a bonfire, and use it to clean and bandage the wounds of the injured Soldiers who had knife wounds, arrow wounds, missing arms, or broken legs, as a temporary emergency treatment. Then, he tried his best to keep them alive, waiting for the two Medical Officers, Thomas and Farnaz, to arrive for treatment.
"Ron, bear with it, this powder stings a bit." Art unbandaged the cotton cloth on Ron's leg that was used for stopping bleeding, then applied the herbal powder prepared by the Valley Medical Workshop, which he carried with him, into Ron's wound.
"Ah~~~ That f***ing hurts!!!" Ron screamed.
"Knowing it hurts is a good thing, at least your leg can still be saved." Art said, glancing at a Soldier lying unconscious on the ground mat in the tent, whose leg below the knee had been cut off, and thick cotton cloth was still seeping blood.
"Master, can my leg really be saved? I won't become a cripple, will I?" Ron recovered from the pain and quietly asked Art.
"If it were anywhere else, your leg would probably be useless, but you are very lucky, because we have two white-clad angels."
"Angels? White-clad?" Ron didn't understand a word.
"I mean we have Thomas and Farnaz, two very skilled Medical Officers."
"Ms. Farnaz could barely be considered an angel~ That guy Thomas~ I don't think his clothes are white at all~" Ron joked.
"Ah~~~~~~~!! It hurts!!!" Art took advantage of Ron's inattention and applied another handful of medicinal powder into another wound.
"Alright, get some good rest. Tomorrow, you'll go back to Wood Fort with Thomas and the others to recuperate with the wounded Soldiers. In half a month at most, you'll be able to run like a wild horse."
Art, enduring his exhausted body, toured the camp's defenses again, ordered the Soldiers repairing the stockade walls to speed up, and then returned to his military tent to summon Kazak, who was responsible for interrogating the bandit captives, to report on the interrogation.
"Sir, this is all the information we got from the captives. I killed two minor leaders during the interrogation, so this information should be reliable." Kazak rubbed his hands, which were red and swollen from hitting the captives out of anger during the interrogation.
Several valuable pieces of information were extracted from the captives.
Firstly, the bandits who attacked the Garrison Camp today were the largest faction in the entire Tinietz County. The bandit leader, Jiali, did not sit idly by in the face of the aggressive black-robed bandit-suppression army, but instead allied with two other strong groups of bandits to proactively attack and blunt their edge. According to the captives' confessions, the bandit leader Jiali intended to capture the camp, plunder weapons and supplies, then attack a remote village near the mountains west of Tinietz, and then establish himself as king and expand his power.
Secondly, they revealed the location of this bandit group's lair, as well as a group of old, weak, women, and children left behind in the bandit lair. However, although they were numerous, there was not much money or supplies left in the bandit lair, because the bandit leader Jiali, in order to achieve his ambition, had continuously recruited Soldiers and expanded his forces, and the money and supplies plundered by the bandit lair in the past two years had been almost completely squandered.
Thirdly, they disclosed the locations and strengths of several other larger bandit groups in the county. Some time ago, in order to unite the bandits to attack the black-robed bandit-suppression army, they had traveled to all the bandit lairs, large and small, in the county, so they were very clear about the distribution of bandits.
The last important piece of news: several months ago, the fat steward of Laine Manor brought a person claiming to be from the Dean Family to contact the bandit leader Jiali. They wanted to secretly pay this group of bandits to harass and plunder a southern merchant caravan, but the bandit leader Jiali was unwilling to associate with those hypocritical yet ruthless Bastards, so he refused at the time.
Art listened to the report, pondered for a moment, then instructed Kazak, who was waiting nearby, "That's enough for today. You can rest for a while after arranging the sentries."
"Also, I retract my previous order to execute all captives. Tomorrow morning, you will take people and carefully screen the captured bandits again. Keep a few usable subordinates. All the other bandit leaders, fierce bandits, and Bastards who have committed many evil deeds or killed our brothers, pick them out. Tomorrow, I will use their heads to pay tribute to our fallen heroes!" Art's eyes, red and swollen from physical and mental exhaustion, were filled with murderous intent.
