“You should go now.”

  Clara hoisted the blood-soaked bundle off the ground, pointed toward the eastern mountain path, and prepared to part ways with Elena.

  Elena hurriedly asked, “I still don’t know my benefactor’s name!”

  “There’s no need to know,” Clara replied without looking back. After a pause, she added, “Also, I’m not your benefactor. You gave me information, I got you out—consider us even.”

  “One more thing. You were never at Fishbone Mountain, and you’ve never seen me here. Those bandits will all be dead soon, and no one will ever know.”

  With that, Clara took her spoils of war and headed down the mountain.

  She needed to confirm that these four heads belonged to the real targets before the county soldiers finished off the remaining bandits—no point in missing out on her bounty.

  Elena stood dazed for a moment. Then she dropped to her knees in the direction Clara left and bowed once before forcing herself to stand, steeling her nerves, and heading down the eastern path.

  No one had seen her at Fishbone Mountain—so as far as anyone knew, she’d never been there, and certainly never entered the bandit den.

  She could make up any excuse she wanted to get back home. There was no need to jump into a pond just to prove some nonsense about chastity.

  Besides, Elena had no intention of dying. She’d fought hard to kill a bandit and escape. She was still intact, her innocence preserved—why give up now?

  Even if no one else believed her, she believed in herself.

  Elena walked as she thought, quietly forming excuses and explanations. When the first light of dawn appeared on the horizon, she picked up her pace toward home.

  At the base of Fishbone Mountain, when Clara arrived, she noticed that the county’s forces had grown—over a dozen more men had joined, dressed in the gear of private armed escorts.

  Not only were there more people, but the one in charge was no longer the county deputy. It was now a man in his early thirties, mounted on horseback, dressed in an austere teal robe, with a commanding presence.

  Clara took one look and immediately guessed—this must be the county magistrate, the one she hadn’t seen earlier.

  But that didn’t matter. Who got credit at the Office was none of her concern—she only cared about her bounty.

  She tossed the bloody bundle down before the man, then cupped her fists and bowed. “Clara from Liew Clan Village greets the magistrate, sir.”

  The county magistrate turned his horse to face her and gave a slight nod. His gaze settled on the bundle. “Have you taken King Howler’s head?”

  Clara nodded and explained that she hadn’t meant to alarm them; she just wanted to confirm the identities of the dead before all the small fry were eliminated.

  The magistrate's eyes darkened slightly as he studied her for a long moment. Finally, he waved his hand. “Bring up the captured bandits for identification.”

  Seeing that he wasn’t insisting on waiting until they returned to the Office to confirm identities—and that he acted decisively—Clara felt much more at ease.

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  As the bundle was being untied, Clara kindly reminded, “Would you prefer to look away, sir? All four heads are inside the bundle. The sight may be unpleasant.”

  The magistrate’s expression clearly showed distaste, but seeing that the county deputy remained stoic, he braced himself and declined.

  Since he insisted, Clara said no more. She used her knife to slice the bundle open, then personally arranged the four heads to face the officials.

  Then—

  “Blargh—!”

  The magistrate tumbled off his horse and immediately turned to vomit.

  The surrounding soldiers all frowned and turned away. A few, unable to withstand the sight, joined the magistrate in his retching.

  Clara: “…”

  Thankfully, the bandit assigned to identify the heads finished his task within seconds. Clara calmly rewrapped the bundle with an unchanged expression.

  “You may turn around now, sir,” the Clerk said in a low voice, suppressing his own nausea. “The bundle is covered.”

  The magistrate took a long time to recover before finally turning back. He gave Clara a glance, only to see her utterly unfazed—she regarded the heads like they were nothing more than winter melons. He couldn’t help but suck in a breath.

  —This woman was absolutely ruthless!

  Seeing that the soldiers were preparing to march again, Clara tentatively asked, “About my bounty…”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll get what you’re owed,” the magistrate replied. “We’ll first escort these vicious criminals back to the Office. Your reward will follow shortly.”

  “Alright then.” Clara smiled slightly, mounted the horse she had brought earlier, and joined the returning party.

  A herald had already gone ahead to beat drums and announce the victory. By the time Clara and the others reached the gates of Willowridge County Town, the townsfolk had flooded the roadsides to welcome them in a noisy celebration.

  The four heads of the bandit leaders were hoisted high at the front of the procession. Behind them rode the county magistrate and deputy.

  Next came the soldiers, guarding the captured bandits and makeshift stretchers woven from branches, atop which lay piles of bandit corpses.

  At the very end of the procession rode Clara and the Clerk.

  The people cheered at the sight of the dead bandits—it was deeply satisfying.

  Though the severed heads were gruesome, everyone strained to get a good look, some even spitting on the corpses with a hearty “ptoo!”

  Several wealthy merchants from the city arrived with freshly painted banners that read: “Upright Magistrate, Slayer of Evil, Boundless Merit.”

  The wording was a bit tacky, but the message of gratitude was clear—and the magistrate seemed quite pleased.

  The Clerk kept a close eye on Clara. Seeing her calm demeanor and lack of arrogance, he nodded in approval. She knew how to carry herself.

  When the procession reached the county academy, the students were still in class, but upon hearing the drums and shouts of “Bandit Chief Captured! Bandits Eradicated!” they couldn’t resist.

  Books and teachers forgotten, they rushed to the gates to witness the commotion.

  They mainly wanted to see if the Office had really brought back King Howler’s head.

  The county had been making anti-bandit proclamations for seven straight months without any real progress. The sudden success felt too good to be true.

  Lester Liew had mingled among the scholars, craning his neck to see ahead.

  Thanks to hearty meals at home, his appearance had grown more refined. Standing among a group of sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds, he looked right at home—one might even mistake him for a lad of seventeen or eighteen.

  “Brother Lester, can you see King Howler’s head?!”

  His classmates in the back, who couldn’t squeeze forward, shouted in excitement.

  Lester had just reached the front. The soldiers hadn’t reached their position yet—but they were close.

  Two minutes later, the procession entered view, and the crowd erupted with excitement. Lester had to clench his bladder tightly—he nearly wet himself from being jostled.

  “Stop pushing! Stop pushing!” Lester shouted angrily.

  His classmates called from behind, “Can you see it? Did you see it?!”

  “I see it, I see it—” Lester answered, then finally looked up. Mother of mercy—it really was a severed head!

  He immediately threw a hand over his eyes, leaving just a sliver to peek through—wanting to look, but too scared to.

  “Who killed them? Who was it?!”

  The students clamored excitedly.

  A townsman next to them said, “Someone came to the Office and took the bounty notice yesterday morning—should be that warrior over there. Look, the one on horseback at the end.”

  Everyone turned to look—and let out a collective, “Huh?”

  That warrior… was a woman?

  But seeing the Clerk riding beside her, they figured it had to be her who took the bounty.

  The scholars finally squeezed up to the front and rejoined Lester. Seeing him staring dumbfounded at the female bounty hunter, one of them teased:

  “Brother Lester, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for our heroine?”

  Well… to be honest, don’t say it, but yes—this heroine, riding proudly on horseback, did look quite dashing. And she didn’t seem that old either.

  (End of Chapter)

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