CHAPTER 142: CHAPTER 142: COWARDICE_1

With only five or six children left after the others were sent down—children no one wanted—the Slave Owner silently did his calculations. He could only agree, a pained expression on his face.

"Fine, but you must pay first."

"No problem, open the door."

"No, Guest, you see, it’s too dangerous. I’ll arrange for someone to take her to you," the Slave Owner said, surprised at Lance’s reckless action.

He wasn’t worried about Lance’s safety at all; he was only concerned that if something happened to Lance, the remaining payment wouldn’t be settled!

Lance pulled out a stack of Gold Coins from his pocket and placed them in the Slave Owner’s hand—twenty, no more, no less. These little darlings immediately dazzled his eyes.

"Quickly, quickly, open the door."

The Slave Owner, ignoring everything else, immediately called the guards to open the cell.

Lance was about to enter when Tiffany reached out and stopped him. Though she didn’t speak, her expression clearly showed her concern; she didn’t want him to go in.

"It’s fine." Lance pushed her hand aside and walked in.

The Slave Owner had seen plenty of arrogant individuals who believed they were special. They would attempt to tame the mad Slaves, treating those crazed and brutal beings as if they were domesticated servants.

If it were so easy, what would they need him for?

He didn’t mind letting this guest, who had bested him in bargaining twice, suffer a bit. Besides, he wasn’t afraid of an incident. After all, with the chains restraining her, he could still rescue the man even if a problem arose.

The Slave Owner was even somewhat impatient, eagerly anticipating Lance making a fool of himself. Will he flee in disarray, or perhaps...

Lance didn’t know, nor did he care, what the Slave Owner was thinking. Aided by the light filtering in, he observed the Barbarian warrior.

The negative effects of three days without food or water were undeniable. Her loud shouts moments ago were merely a transient effect of an adrenaline surge. When that stimulation faded, the woman became listless. Her head drooped, and her body sagged against the taut chains that kept her from collapsing. Even raising a hand had become difficult.

Lance slowly approached. As he took a step, the woman’s head snapped up, revealing her cruel visage.

But when their eyes met, she saw no panic or fear in his. On the contrary, he was smiling—his eyes held a look that seemed to mock his prey.

Lance’s reaction deeply stung her pride. She would no longer allow anyone to look at her this way.

Rage erupted. The woman extended her dirty, blood-caked hand towards Lance.

She wanted to tear this man to pieces!

But just as she was about to touch him, a hand grasped her wrist firmly, rendering her almost immobile.

The strength from that grip was almost enough to break her hand. Pain constantly assaulted her nerves, making her want to shriek uncontrollably.

It wasn’t the rank of Brave that endowed Lance with such strength. Rather, his continuously Strengthened body had elevated him to the level of a Brave, despite his lack of refined combat techniques.

One could say his physicality was extremely exaggerated. In terms of sheer strength, not even Reynard and Balistan in their heavy armor could compare. This could only be attributed to a divine Blessing.

Only this could explain how Lance, a common man who couldn’t even truss a chicken, had rapidly grown into a powerful warrior in just a month.

Lance could feel her hand trembling, her fingers shaking uncontrollably. Yet, this woman gritted her teeth, enduring the pain without a sound, her bloodshot eyes glaring daggers at him.

Just as Lance was about to marvel at her resilience, the rattling of chains accompanied her desperate lunge with her other hand, still attempting to attack.

But Lance was never one to be passive. He wouldn’t allow a Slave to dare challenge his authority. He flicked his wrist, and the arm he held obeyed his will, colliding directly with the woman’s other hand.

This unexpected, heavy blow forced a pained grunt from her. But she didn’t cry out. Instead, she growled and charged at him.

But in the next second, her movements halted abruptly. Lance had seized her throat, lifting her like a large goose caught by the neck, her body below the neck momentarily seeming to dislocate.

The woman still refused to submit, raising her hand to attack Lance’s eyes. He applied slightly more pressure. The nerves and blood vessels in her neck, squeezed by his brute force, caused her to briefly lose consciousness, and her outstretched hands went limp.

Lance pulled her towards him, their gazes locking.

There was no verbal communication between them. However, Lance could feel the surging rage in her heart, as well as the exhaustion and guilt she hid beneath. These complex and intense emotions sustained her, not allowing her to harbor any fear or shrink from death.

She’s seeking death.

"So, you still choose to die like a coward?" Lance murmured, his voice strangely compelling.

His words, as if magical, directly ignited her rebellious spirit. The woman, who had stopped struggling, suddenly grasped his fingers to pull them away and shook her legs with all her might.

Lance had no intention of losing twenty Gold Coins. He slightly loosened his grip, just enough to restrain her. In that moment, the woman gasped for air, saliva and coughs bursting from her mouth.

COUGH! COUGH!

But the next second, she relentlessly tried to attack again, though it was futile. Instead, Lance pressed her against the wall.

"Why insist on this? You should know it wouldn’t take me a single move to kill you," Lance leaned in, whispering in her ear,

"I am not your enemy. I didn’t cast you out, nor did I imprison and torture you. The suffering you’ve endured has nothing to do with me.

On the contrary, I am your benefactor, one who can take you out of here and grant you the honor of a warrior."

Lance met her gaze and said solemnly, "So, will you choose to come with me and die honorably as a warrior? Or will you die here like a coward, forgoing your chance to wash away this disgrace?"

Her struggles ceased. Lance slowly let go. Seeing no sign of attack from her, it seemed she had made her choice.

"Remember today. This will be the starting point of your journey to wash away disgrace and embark on a path of honor."

With that, Lance called out to the Slave Owner outside.

"Remove her chains."

The Slave Owner outside was also stunned. He had watched the flurry of action between the two. Several times he thought Lance would be in dire straits, yet Lance was completely unharmed and had suppressed the Barbarian with simple, brutal force.

However, neither the Slave Owner nor his guards believed her current state. They had seen Barbarians feign death only to strike and kill before.

"Be careful, Guest. Her chains cannot be removed; she’s deceiving you."

"How can I take her if her chains aren’t removed? Bring me the keys," Lance said, walking out.

"Give them to him." The Slave Owner, seeing Lance’s confident demeanor, said no more. He only hoped he would see Lance alive again.