My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!
Episode : 35

Chapter : 69

"Strongest?" Lloyd repeated the word softly, letting a faint, humorless smile touch his lips. "An interesting theory." He subtly shifted his weight again, ensuring his footing was solid on the uneven ground. "Are you quite sure you want to test that theory today? Over some cursed wool you probably don't even know how to handle safely?"

The leader’s smirk faltered slightly at the mention of the curse, replaced by a flicker of annoyance. "Cursed? Bah! Old wives' tales! Wool is wool, and wool fetches coin! Or maybe," his eyes narrowed speculatively, "you're just tryin' to scare us off, lordling? Protect your prize?"

"He's bluffing, Boss!" the lanky one insisted, though his eyes darted nervously towards the nearest carcass. "He looks knackered! And that mutt's barely standin'!"

Fang chose that moment to lift his head fully, letting out another low, resonant growl. The air around him crackled faintly, the golden eyes fixing on the lanky man with an intensity that made him involuntarily take a step back.

"Mutt?" Lloyd murmured, still smiling faintly. "Fang takes offense to that. He prefers 'Elemental Harbinger of Your Impending Doom'. Bit wordy, I know, but more accurate."

The leader scowled, unnerved by the wolf's reaction but unwilling to back down, especially now that his authority was implicitly challenged. "Enough yap! Hand over the pelts, lad! And maybe toss in that fancy knife and coin pouch for our trouble. Do it nice and easy, and maybe, just maybe, we let you and your overgrown dog walk away."

"Walk away?" Lloyd tilted his head, feigning contemplation. "An intriguing offer. Let me consider the terms." His internal monologue raced. Okay, options. One: Unleash Fang fully. Thousand Chirp Strikes until they're twitching piles of ash. Fast, effective, but drains Fang completely, leaving us vulnerable if there is a hidden leader or another wave. Plus, overkill attracts attention. Two: Use the Steel Wires again. Less draining for Fang, more draining for me. Still effective, still potentially overkill. Three: Try something… less flashy? More subtle? Something that conserves energy but still delivers a decisive message?

He thought of the hidden leader again. If someone was watching, they wanted to gauge his capabilities, his limits. A flashy display might scare them off temporarily, but it also revealed his hand. A swift, brutal, low-energy takedown, however… that might be more unsettling. More unpredictable.

Right, he decided. Minimal expenditure. Maximum psychological impact. Let them wonder.

He looked back at the scavengers, his smile fading, replaced by a chillingly calm indifference. "My counter-offer," he said softly, his voice suddenly devoid of warmth, "is this: Turn around. Walk away. Forget you ever saw these sheep or me. Do that now, and you might keep the skin you're currently standing in."

The leader bristled, mistaking the quiet tone for weakness. "Threats? From a pampered pup hiding behind his beast?" He hefted his axe again, taking a step forward. "Lads! Looks like we gotta teach him some respect! Take the wolf down first!"

The three men surged forward, clumsy but determined, weapons raised, faces contorted with greed and aggression.

Lloyd sighed internally. So much for the diplomatic approach. He didn't reach for his knife. He didn't command Fang to attack.

He simply focused his will.

Not on searing heat this time. Not on slicing edges.

He drew on the Ferrum power, shaping it differently. Fine threads, yes, but cool now, imbued not with fire, but with a different aspect of his control – kinetic force, manipulated with pinpoint precision.

As the leader swung his axe in a wild, downward arc, aiming to cleave Fang's skull, Lloyd acted. An invisible filament of force, finer than a hair but carrying immense tensile strength, snapped taut between the axe head and the ground directly in front of the leader’s leading foot.

The axe head hit the invisible barrier with jarring solidity. The abrupt stop, combined with the leader's forward momentum, sent him stumbling violently, roaring in surprise and pain as his wrist twisted awkwardly.

Simultaneously, two more filaments whipped out. One wrapped around the lanky man's ankle as he lunged, yanking his foot out from under him, sending him crashing face-first into the dirt with a startled yelp. The other flicked whip-like against the stocky man's sword hand, not cutting, but delivering a sharp, shocking impact that numbed his fingers and sent his weapon flying from his grasp.

It was over in less than two seconds. No lightning. No fire. No blood, beyond perhaps a scraped nose from the face-plant. Just three grown men suddenly, inexplicably, finding themselves tripped, disarmed, and sprawled humiliatingly on the ground by forces they couldn't see or comprehend.

They stared, stunned, confused, pain mixing with dawning fear. What just happened?

Chapter : 70

Lloyd stood exactly where he had been, hands loosely at his sides, expression utterly calm. Fang hadn't even moved, just watched the proceedings with those unnervingly intelligent golden eyes.

"My apologies," Lloyd said conversationally to the groaning figures on the ground. "Sometimes the local gravity can be… temperamental." He took a deliberate step towards them, the invisible Void threads dissipating back into nothingness. "Now, about my counter-offer. Does walking away sound more appealing now?"

He let the implied threat hang in the air, the silence broken only by the wind and the pained groans of the would-be robbers. He hadn't seriously injured them. He hadn't expended significant energy. But he had demonstrated effortless, inexplicable control. He had sown fear and confusion. And somewhere, perhaps hidden just over the next ridge, a potential hidden leader now had a very confusing, very worrying data point to consider. The 'knackered lordling' wasn't quite as helpless as he appeared.

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The wind sighed through the tall grass, carrying the scent of cursed wool and the low groans of the three scavengers sprawled ignominiously on the ground. Lloyd Ferrum stood over them, calm and composed, his counter-offer hanging heavy in the suddenly still air. Walk away. Forget this happened. Live. Simple terms, delivered with the chilling quiet of someone holding all the cards.

He expected fear. He expected compliance. Perhaps a hasty scramble to their feet, followed by a stumbling retreat, casting terrified glances over their shoulders.

Instead, the leader, propped up on one elbow, clutching his bruised wrist, looked at his equally disheveled companions. A flicker of communication passed between them – disbelief warring with bruised pride, stupidity battling self-preservation. Then, improbably, the leader started to chuckle. A low, guttural sound that quickly escalated into a harsh, barking laugh. His companions joined in, raggedly at first, then with growing, defiant bravado.

Lloyd stared, genuinely bewildered for a moment. Laughter? Now? After being effortlessly tripped, disarmed, and humiliated by forces they couldn't even see? Why, his internal eighty-year-old sighed with weary exasperation, is it always a three-man team? And why are they invariably composed of idiots? Is there some cosmic law dictating that incompetent villainy must travel in threes?

"Funny?" Lloyd asked mildly, the faint smile returning to his lips, but this time it held no amusement, only a chilling curiosity. "You find your current predicament amusing?"

The leader pushed himself painfully to his feet, spitting dirt. The earlier avarice was gone, replaced by a furious, cornered-rat desperation. The brief, inexplicable display of control hadn't cowed them; it had enraged them, pushing them past the point of rational calculation. They felt mocked, played with.

"Amusin'?" the leader snarled, wiping grime from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yeah! Amusin' that you thought a cheap trick like that would scare us off, lordling!" He drew himself up, puffing out his chest, trying to reclaim some semblance of dominance. "You caught us by surprise, that's all! Won't happen again!"

"He's right, Boss!" the lanky one chimed in, scrambling to retrieve his dropped sword, his face contorted with a mixture of fear and fury. "He ain't so tough! Just tricky!"

The stocky one nodded vigorously, retrieving his own weapon. "Time for a real fight! Show 'im what happens when you mess with the Ridge Runners!"

Ridge Runners? Seriously? Lloyd almost laughed again, this time genuinely. They sound like a troupe of badly dressed folk dancers.

But their intent was clear. Diplomacy had failed. Reason had failed. The only language left was force. Lloyd sighed internally. Fine. Plan B it is. Minimal expenditure is clearly not an option with these morons.

He didn't draw his knife. He didn't need to. He simply let the power within him stir, responding to his will. The air around him seemed to thicken, shimmer. Not with heat this time, not with invisible force, but with something tangible, visible.

Strands of impossibly fine, metallic wire began to extrude from the air around his hands, his shoulders, even seeming to weave themselves through his dark hair like living tinsel. They weren't glowing red-hot now, but gleamed with the cold, hard lustre of polished steel, catching the afternoon sun like deadly filaments of captured light. Dozens, then hundreds, of threads materialized, swirling slowly around him, extending outwards several feet, creating a shifting, whispering nimbus of razor-sharp potential. It looked less like overgrown hair and more like a sentient cage of shimmering blades, waiting to contract.

The three scavengers stumbled back instinctively, their defiant bravado faltering again as they confronted this new, far more visceral display of power. This wasn't a subtle tripwire; this was blatant, terrifying menace.

"W-what the hell is that?" the lanky one stammered, his grip tightening on his sword hilt.

"Magic?" the stocky one breathed, eyes wide.