Chapter 4

Just at this moment, a slave trader with a greasy vest and a short, fat figure came rushing over, tumbling and crawling.

He was clearly the owner of this Maonv slave.

When he saw Roko surrounded by guards, especially the Flame Griffin emblem.

Although a sycophantic smile piled up on his face, deep in his eyes hid undisguised nervousness and fear.

"My, My Lord..."

The slave trader's voice carried a tremor, and fine beads of sweat seeped out on his forehead.

He secretly glanced at the iron cage, then quickly looked at Roko, fearing that this big shot was angry because of that "unlucky" Maonv.

People from the Raymond Family.

In Twilight City, this was the sky.

As long as this young master said a word, let alone throwing him into prison, even if he were beaten to death on the spot, no one would dare to ask another question.

In the cage, that little Maonv also seemed to sense the approaching aura.

She lifted her head with difficulty, and through her blurred vision, saw Roko standing outside the cage.

The sunlight happened to fall from behind him, outlining the silhouette of his tall and straight figure.

Gorgeous clothing, a clean face, and that emblem on his chest symbolizing supreme power.

So beautiful.

Like someone who walked out of a painting.

Ripples appeared in the little Maonv's eyes, imperceptible.

But these ripples were quickly drowned out by deeper fear and despair.

She knew what these eyes of hers meant.

Bad luck.

Calamity.

This good-looking noble young master probably came over because of this, right?

Perhaps, the next moment, that fat merchant would rush over and kick her, to show his "apology" and "respect" to this noble person.

After all, who would like something that represented bad luck?

The little Maonv slowly lowered her head, burying her face back into her knees.

Cold tears slid down silently, dripping onto the dirty straw.

Numbness, confusion, sadness.

Finally, only boundless despair remained.

An existence like her didn't even have the qualification to be bought as a slave.

Her final ending would probably be like those dead Orcs, dragged to the mass grave outside the city and discarded casually.

Becoming food for wild dogs and vultures.

Roko felt the weak but clear emotional fluctuations, originating from the dying Maonv in the iron cage in the corner.

A kind of despair, fear, and a hint of... expectation?

He didn't hesitate anymore and stepped forward.

At the same time, the short, fat slave trader saw Roko walking straight toward the corner he had abandoned, and his face instantly turned pale.

He was afraid that the damn Maonv had offended the noble person.

In order to clear his relationship and also to show his "loyalty," a flash of ruthlessness crossed his eyes.

The slave trader suddenly raised the whip in his hand.

It was a rough black leather whip, covered with fine barbs, flashing with a heart-palpitating cold light in the dim light.

One could imagine that with one lash, it would definitely tear the skin and flesh, and could even roll off a small piece of flesh.

He raised the whip and was about to lash down fiercely at the curled-up figure in the cage.

The little Maonv in the cage sensed the familiar sound of wind carrying malice.

She instinctively curled herself tighter, her frail body trembling violently.

She tightly closed her eyes, crystal tears hanging on her long eyelashes.

It hurts...

If the whip lashes on her body, it will hurt so much.

Her small body had already endured too much of such pain.

It doesn't matter, just endure it.

Close your eyes, clench your teeth, and it will pass soon.

She thought desperately, waiting for the tearing pain to descend.

However, the expected pain did not fall.

Time seemed to freeze at this moment.

A clean, slender, extremely good-looking hand steadily grabbed the leather whip that was about to fall, covered in filth and blood.

The tip of the whip was less than a finger's width away from the little Maonv's back.

Roko stood expressionless in front of the slave trader, his hand gripping the barbed whip.

The slave trader was stunned, the expression on his face extremely stiff, and cold sweat instantly soaked his greasy vest.

He hadn't seen how Roko made his move at all.

Roko glanced at him with cold eyes.

There was no anger in those eyes, only a pure indifference, as if looking at a piece of trash.

He pushed casually.

The slave trader's fat body stumbled backward and fell, sitting on the dirty ground with a dull thud.

The surroundings instantly quieted down.

Barton and the other guards all looked at this scene with some surprise.

They didn't expect this young master, who looked gentle and refined, to be so crisp and decisive when making a move.

Roko didn't look at the slave trader sitting on the ground again.

He let go of the whip and let it fall to the ground.

Then, under the gaze of countless surprised, curious, or awe-filled eyes, he slowly squatted down in front of the dilapidated iron cage.

The luxurious fabric on his body formed a sharp contrast with the dirty environment around him.

Sunlight passed through the gaps in the market and happened to fall on him, plating his whole body with a soft halo.

A gentle smile appeared on Roko's face; that smile dispelled the indifference when he made his move just now, appearing exceptionally warm.

His gaze fell on the tiny figure in the cage who was still tightly closing her eyes and shivering.

"Do you want to come home with me?"

His voice was very light, very gentle, carrying a strange soothing power.

The little Maonv trembled, and with all her strength, opened her eyes.

In her blurred vision, she saw the figure squatting outside the cage.

He was bathed in warm sunlight, wearing gorgeous clothes she had never seen before, clean to an unbelievable degree.

His face was handsome, his smile gentle, his eyes clear.

Especially the Flame Griffin emblem on his chest, radiating a faint light, symbolizing supreme power and status.

In the little Maonv's vision, Roko's figure was so dazzling, so warm.

He was like the first, and only, light that suddenly appeared in her dark, cold, and desperate life.

He was her redemption.

The little Maonv looked at him blankly, forgetting the fear, forgetting the pain, forgetting the dirty cage she was in.

Those heterochromatic eyes, one deep blue, one crushed gold, now clearly reflected Roko's figure.

Her eye sockets turned red without warning.

Warm tears could no longer be suppressed.

They rolled down in large drops, washing away the stains on her cheeks, leaving two clear tear stains.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but because of her long-term weakness and excitement, she couldn't make any sound.

She could only nod desperately, again and again.

Willing.

She was willing.

No matter where they went, as long as she could leave this hell, as long as she could follow this person in front of her, she was willing.