Chapter 70 Demon Hunting Senses

A perfect ambush location. Clay understood that in this kind of terrain, a hundred people might not be needed. They took advantage of the darkness to attack from high altitude, block the exit, and a massacre began.

This is a carefully chosen battlefield. Someone has already planned to intercept the caravans in White Harbor here, like a hunter lurking in the grass, delivering a fatal blow at the most appropriate time.

"Master, be careful." The guard captain, who was half a horse behind, urged his horse forward, drew his sword and stood in front of Clay.

Raising his hand to the hand that was holding the sword hilt, and pressing it down, Clay shook his head and said very calmly:

"It's okay. Go tell everyone and search the forest yourself to see if you can find anything. Also, look for any footprints left by humans and horses on the ground."

After that, Clay gently pinched the horse's belly and rode towards the scene.

It's not that Cleito is too big. He doesn't think that after his opponent ambushed the caravan in White Harbor, he would dare to attack a cavalry force of nearly 300 people in the same place during the day.

When he just stopped at the entrance of the valley, he had already relied on his powerful demon hunter senses to confirm that there were no traces of magic fluctuations here. Therefore, it would only be steel that killed people, and there would be no other unexpected situations.

As a demon hunter, he has sharp reflexes that are unmatched by ordinary people. Although he cannot miss any clues, at least every time Clay walks through a piece of land, he can roughly restore what happened here that night four days ago. What's going on.

"Someone was hit hard on the ground. The turned up turf here can prove this. It doesn't look like he fell down on his own, but more like... well, yes, he was knocked over by a horse."

On a large piece of mottled grass, Clay stared there closely, rehearsing what happened at that time in his mind. He was sure that someone was knocked away and landed here, but he didn't know that it was someone from White Harbor. It's still that mysterious force.

It is also uncertain whether the horse that knocked people away was a pack horse for the caravan or a war horse used to charge into the battle. These are two completely different concepts. Whether there is a horse or not, the judgment of a force will be different. There are completely different results.

After getting off his horse, Clay stopped the guards following him from dismounting and signaled them to disperse. He squatted on the ground and picked up a few pieces of dark red soil.

"Blood, it seems that the person who was knocked away was seriously injured. A simple impact would not cause obvious trauma. Such a large amount of bleeding, either he was injured before, or... someone came up and wiped his neck. "

After leaving the dirt behind, Clay turned to look at the guards behind him, pointed out the nearest one among them, and ordered:

"You, go and tell your captain, if there are horse hoof prints, count how many horses there are."

"It's my lord!" The soldier straightened his body, agreed, and immediately galloped towards the ridge on the right.

I don't know what Clay saw on the ground. Sir Aenys Frey, who was following him, originally wanted to ask, but looking at Clay's tense face, he finally didn't ask. He always felt that stepping into The Mandalay kid on this battlefield seemed to be a different person.

The corpses had been collected by the knight who had the territory here and commanded his farmers and guards. They were originally piled in a corner of the valley, but the people had been dead for four days. In the south in summer, the stench was already unbearable.

Therefore, the knight only left three corpses with low levels of decay, and the rest were buried in mass graves. I don’t know their names, so I can only find a stone and carve an extremely rough mermaid on it. thing.

Clay could clearly distinguish the new footprints. Obviously, these people had destroyed many valuable clues in the process of moving the bodies, but Clay couldn't blame them.

"Come and tell me, were all the corpses killed by sharp weapons? In other words, were there any weapons such as crossbows or longbows that caused death?"

Clay was asking about the Frey family knight who had been following them, the owner of this land.

The gray-haired middle-aged knight quickly stepped forward, with a flattering smile on his face, and answered Clay's question without thinking:

"No adults, they all died from sword wounds."

"Are you sure?" Clay stared at his bloodshot eyes.

"...I can be sure that when I led people to bury them, I checked everyone. I promise."

Nodding, Clay stopped looking at his face, waved him away, and continued to search for clues in the narrow mouth of the valley.

"Lord Clay, did you find anything?" Inis Frey, who had been following him and had been holding back for a long time, asked the question he wanted to ask the most.

Clay did not answer him, but asked:

"Sir, I originally estimated that a hundred people would be able to annihilate this team, but now, I think this may be a bit of an extreme judgment. In your opinion, Sir, how many people are needed to prevent more than fifty people from running away? "

Aenys Frey's right hand habitually rested on the silver-gray mustache on his chin. Obviously, it was just a habit of his thinking.

After a while, he gave his own judgment:

"Lord Clay, I think if they are bandits, without armor, even if they use the terrain to attack by surprise, there will probably be at least sixty people."

"But if they are not bandits and have enough good equipment or horses, and thirty people are divided into two teams, one charge can kill half of the caravan's defense force. Basically, after three rounds, everyone should be lying on the ground. .”

This is a very pertinent statement. Clay nodded in agreement and said softly:

"Whether there are horses or not, there should be results after they finish surveying the hills on both sides. Sir, let's take a look. Maybe we can find something."

Clay separated from Aenys Frey, rehearsing the battlefield in his mind. The horseshoe prints on the hills were up and down, which could not explain the problem.

Because there were horses in White Harbor's caravan, this greatly interfered with Clay's investigation. Suddenly, he thought of a very critical question.

"Tell me, did you find the carriage at the scene? Also, are the goods pulled by the carriage still there?"

Clay was still asking the Frey family knight, who had a look of helplessness on his face and hurriedly ran over. Hearing Clay's question, he still didn't hesitate and gave an answer quickly:

"I didn't find it, sir. When I came here, there was nothing here except corpses. I think it was the bandits in the mountains who took a fancy to the supplies of the White Harbor caravan, so this happened."

At this moment, Clay's eyes suddenly focused. Looking over the knight's shoulder, Clay found a strange mark on a small dark red mound.

Waving his hand, the very conscious knight left again, but he didn't go too far. He knew that he would be called over for questioning, so he simply stayed nearby.

Clay ignored him at all and walked to the small mound of soil that still smelled of blood four days later. He squatted down there and pushed away the soil with his fingers. His face instantly turned ugly.

A small hole appeared in front of Clay's eyes. With the light, Clay could even see the blood clots solidified inside. This was the mark left by the crossbow arrow on the ground!

He was suddenly startled. He glanced at the knight who was taking a walk in boredom. Clay's heart sank.

He lied!