The tent fell silent.
Blood pooled around the Third Brother's head, and the small girl whimpered from her corner, sensing the strange quiet all of a sudden.
The four brothers looked at each other in shock.
The First Brother's eyes widened, and for the first time, his cruel grin faltered.
Even though he had committed countless sins, he truly cared about his four brothers as they were his real blood siblings.
They had supported each other until today… and now, one of them was gone just like that.
"…What the hell?" he hissed angrily, gripping his sword tightly as he stormed outside.
Rain poured down, soaking his clothes, but the scene before him made him forget the dampness.
In the middle of the camp stood a tall, cloaked figure. Its face was hidden beneath a dark hood, its body completely still under the rain.
Around it lay the corpses of his subordinates. The surviving bandits clutched their swords with trembling hands.
