lovenovelstory Chapter 55 Night Raid on the Bandit Camp
Chapter 55 Night Raid on the Bandit Camp
"Ugh—!"
A short, muffled groan, choked deep in the throat, vanished instantly into the thick darkness of the night.
The bandit on night duty stiffened and collapsed limply to the ground.
Without a single unnecessary movement, Tom's figure was already pressed against the canvas of the nearest tent.
The cold blade silently parted the gap in the curtain, and he slipped into the murky air inside the tent like a formless darkness.
"Pfft!"
A barely audible sound of a sharp blade piercing flesh.
The bandit, fast asleep, suddenly shuddered, his head tilting to one side at an unnatural angle, and dark liquid silently seeped from his throat, soaking through his rough bedding.
He couldn't even utter a complete murmur in his sleep.
Tom didn't pause for a moment, rushing towards another patch of darkness a few steps away.
Inside the tent, loud snoring and heavy breathing indicated a sound sleep without any warning.
The hand rises! The knife falls!
The cold glint seemed to exist only for a fleeting moment in the absolute darkness, so fast that even the air didn't have time to hiss as it was being torn apart.
The heavy snoring stopped abruptly, like a rope being severed by scissors.
A deathly silence descended, heavier than the darkness of night.
In just a few breaths, the five people who were still dreaming had turned into three rapidly cooling corpses.
The last two bandits were dealt with even more easily.
As the blade sliced through, the breath of life was extinguished like a candle flame, without even a ripple of struggle.
Tom stood in the middle of the valley, his gaze slowly sweeping over the shadows of every rock and the outlines of every tent, confirming that there was no longer a trace of life.
Then, his figure disappeared into the darkness, leaving no trace.
The wind swept by, carrying with it an intense, nauseating stench of blood—the mark of death's imminent arrival.
The ground was covered in large swaths of deep, dark red, which spread and spread silently under the cover of night!
He mounted his horse and headed toward his second goal.
The second target is nine people.
The night was thick and dark, pressing heavily over the desolate camp.
The only thing tearing through this darkness was the dying campfire in the center of the camp, its dying embers flickering with a few dark red tongues, trembling in the cold air and stretching and swaying the distorted shadows of the surrounding tents.
At the edge of the camp, two bandits on night watch surrounded the faint embers.
The flasks were passed from hand to hand, the smell of cheap ale mingling with the smoke from the campfire, filling the deathly still air.
They mumbled incoherently, their voices slurred and drunken, their heads bobbing as they struggled to stay awake.
Their vigilance had long been diluted to almost nothing by alcohol and the weariness of the late night.
Tom is part of this deep darkness itself.
He clung to the cold tent canvas, like a shadow without substance, even his breath blending into the faint sobs of the night wind.
His vision clearly outlined the two crooked figures with their backs to him, and the blurry silhouettes of their sleeping companions in the tent behind them.
The opportunity arrived the moment the drunkard raised his wine bag once more and drank it down in one gulp.
Just then, the campfire burst into a few tiny sparks, making a soft "crackling" sound.
Moved.
He was like the Grim Reaper emerging from the earth, his first step silently approaching the bandit on the outermost edge who was drinking with his head tilted back.
With his left hand, he covered the other person's mouth and nose like an iron clamp, instantly silencing any gasps of alarm.
The short knife, held in reverse in his right hand, traced an extremely brief, almost non-existent dark arc in the afterglow of the campfire, precisely slicing into the unsuspecting side of his neck.
Warm liquid gushed out, splashing onto the cold ground, and was instantly swallowed by darkness, leaving only a strong smell of rust.
The bandit's body didn't even have time to twitch before he collapsed, the wine bag slipping from his grasp. Tom's toe lightly cushioned the fall, silencing the sound.
Another bandit seemed to sense his companion's unease, and with his eyes glazed with drunkenness, he turned his head and mumbled, "Better...uh..." Before he could finish the indistinct words, Tom had already appeared in front of him like a ghost.
The cold blade magnified instantly in the bandit's drunken, hazy eyes, and without the slightest hesitation, it pierced his throat until the hilt was gone.
All the shock and pain were trapped in his broken throat, leaving only a faint "hoarse" sound and the dull thud of his body falling to the ground—a sound that was exceptionally clear in the silent night, but no one by the campfire could hear it anymore.
Tom didn't even glance down at the corpse at his feet.
His movements were fluid and without the slightest hesitation.
After eliminating his spies, he moved silently like a flowing shadow toward the nearest tent.
The dagger was gently flicked through the gap in the curtain.
Inside the tent, a strong smell of sweat and body odor filled the air.
With a swift stroke of the knife, life was mercilessly reaped.
Each time he bent over, each time his arm rose and fell, it was accompanied by an extremely faint, muffled sound, like the blade cutting through flesh and bone.
And a chilling gurgling sound of liquid flowing.
There was no struggle, no screams, only the body's instinctive, final, unconscious twitching as life was instantly taken away.
Next, one, the throat was slit; two, the heart was precisely pierced.
The whole process was incredibly fast; only the pervasive, increasingly strong smell of blood indicated what had just happened.
He stepped out of the tent and turned around abruptly.
A bandit in a tent was getting up and staggering as he tried to come out.
Tom rushed over suddenly.
The moment the bandit lifted the curtain, a sharp blade plunged into his stomach.
His mouth was covered tightly by a large hand.
"Ugh—!"
Finally, it turned into a "hoho" sound!
Tom gently placed the person on the ground.
He turned and disappeared into the night.
The last tent was occupied by two people. The process was the same, the efficiency was the same, and the coldness was the same.
Only when the breathing in the last tent had completely ceased did Tom quietly retreat back into the darkness at the edge of the camp.
The campfire not far away flickered and shone for a moment.
It reflected the dark marks on his face and his calm, unfathomable eyes.
There was no excitement, no pity, not even anger in those eyes, only a complete indifference of having accomplished a mission!
The thick, pungent smell of blood slowly rose and spread in the cold night wind, mixing with the lingering smoke from the campfire and the faint scent of cheap liquor, creating a suffocatingly sweet and pungent aroma that felt like the entrance to hell!
He mounted his horse and headed toward his third goal.
The third target is twelve people.
The valley was deathly silent; even the embers of the campfire had been extinguished, leaving only thick darkness.
Tom's gaze was like lightning, instantly sweeping across the entire valley.
"Nobody here?!"
This discovery stirred something within him, and a strange interest quietly arose within him.
Where did they go?
His vision, like an invisible tide, suddenly expanded outwards!
Good guy!
In a secluded, narrow mountain hollow not far away, a small campfire flickered, and in its light, a dense crowd of people gathered around it.
"So they were all hiding here!"
Tom's eyes narrowed, quite surprised—not only were these people awake, but what chilled him even more was that they were all holding long spears!
The gun barrels were pointed warily in different directions, and his eyes constantly scanned the surrounding darkness.
Approaching silently, suppressed conversations drifted on the wind:
"Kanter, I told you it was time to go!" A gray-haired, bearded old cowboy said in a low voice, his tone revealing anxiety and unease.