The men in black looked at each other, but seeing the sword at Miss Hilveld's throat, they could only comply and one by one relinquish their weapons.

Once they were disarmed, Jiefulite Red Cloak Team members came from behind, forcing them with swords and firearms to move to one side, demanding they hold their heads with both hands, and kneel on the ground. The men in black clenched their teeth, but with Miss Hilveld remaining silent, they had no choice but to obey.

After all weapons were taken, the leader with the sword at Miss Hilveld's neck lifted his chin, signaling to a Blood Oath Alliance member beside him to bring over the other side's leather case.

The man seemed infatuated as he gazed at Miss Hilveld and even spaced out for a moment, stopping right in front of her, but was scolded, "What are you dazing off for, haven't seen a woman before? Be careful and don't get close to her!"

Perhaps feeling a hit to his pride, the man then picked up the case, kicked the body of a Rat Person on the ground with annoyance, and returned to his predecessor. Miss Hilveld watched this action with narrowed eyes but remained silent.

"Open the case, take the stuff out," the predecessor finally spoke.

Following orders, the man was dumbfounded; he rummaged through the case for a while but found nothing, and in desperation, tore open the lining of the case, only to find it still empty. He looked up anxiously and yelled, "There's nothing in here."

"How is that possible?" The predecessor was momentarily taken aback.

"Really," the man said as he dumped out the contents of the case—all that fell out were bits and pieces of women's clothing, a mirror, cosmetics, and some other odds and ends. Apart from these things, the case was completely empty.

Only then did the predecessor raise his head, his voice growing colder, "Miss Hilveld, it seems you're betting on us not daring to lay a finger on you?"

Miss Hilveld gave a slight smile, "I don't think that at all; in fact, you very well could do so."

But before she could finish, she couldn't help but let out a muffled grunt as the man increased the pressure in his hand, causing the sword blade to leave a blood mark on her pale neck.

Simultaneously, the man stepped forward, reached out to grab her hair, and violently threw her to the ground. Caught off guard, Miss Hilveld cried out in pain, but the man seemed to have no intention of sparing her charm and delicacy, stepping on her wounded shoulder, and she could not suppress a low, pained moan as tears involuntarily fell.

The men in black roared in anger and struggled to resist upon seeing this, but a gunshot rang out, and someone fell into a pool of blood.

"Don't move!" Miss Hilveld commanded through clenched teeth, withstanding the pain.

The man, without looking away, watched her coldly and then asked, "Be sensible, Miss Hilveld. I don't want to be rough with you. Hand over the items."

Miss Hilveld fell silent for a moment, her face already smeared with blood. She carefully tightened her grip on the item pressed under her, and responded softly, "Then you'll have to let me get up."

But the man clearly didn't trust her.

He shook his head, "I know too well about you, Miss Hilveld. You can get up, but I must teach you a lesson." With that, he raised his hand and a sword shot towards the noble girl's other hand.

But his stroke met empty air.

He thought he heard a cry of surprise.

Then he noticed a dazzling blade reflected in his field of vision, the sword long and luxurious, as if it was forged from a single piece of Cold Steel, its reflective surface even mirrored his startled eyes.

The blade moved slowly forward, crossing paths with his own.

He instinctively withdrew his hand, but with a flash of cold light, he felt his arm go limp—not just limp, but his entire right forearm cleanly severed at the elbow, the cut so smooth, he could faintly feel his blood vessels retracting as countless beads of blood seeped out, then joined to form a stream.

He screamed in agony, staggering backward, watching as his severed hand flew far away, finally rolling to a halt. Then another sword blade appeared from the void, and at last, he realized what it was—an Invisibility ability.

In front of him was clearly a light and elegant Construct.

He pushed himself back with all his might, his poor imagination still pondering what sort of Construct had the power of invisibility, but before him now was a fist the size of a bowl.

"Get lost!"

Fang Hong roared as he smashed his fist into the man's nose. The close-range blast of the Flying Fist sent the man, with his contorted face and all, flying against a nearby wall, before rebounding and falling back to the ground.

Lying on the ground, Miss Hilveld was momentarily stunned, thinking she might have experienced an auditory hallucination.

But suddenly, she felt lighter as she was hauled up from the ground—the strength of the grip showed no tenderness or grace. The noble girl couldn't help but cough violently, yet her face showed a trace of relief and even surprise.

"Miss Hilveld, you owe me an explanation,"

came the aggrieved voice of Fang Hong from above.

Miss Hilveld felt herself being turned around before she finally saw that somewhat naive face.

Youthful and not exactly mature.

But at least it was resolute, reassuring.

She smiled weakly, "What do you want to hear, Lord Captain...?"

"A lot of things, you've gone too far this time, Miss Hilveld."

Fang Hong replied with a dark expression.

He gestured and two Energy Angels positioned themselves one in front and one behind the pair.

Amidst the roar of Magic Guided Guns, but before flames and bullets could get close, they were blocked by an invisible Force Field Shield.

Miss Hilveld closed her eyes slightly while in his arms, and whispered softly,

"Alright."

"My Lord Captain—"

...

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