Chapter 53

"Did you actually dare to let me get in the car? Just two and a half hours ago, I killed fourteen motorcycle thugs."

Dunan sat on the speeding motorcycle, slightly surprised.

Hearing his words, the group of thugs laughed. They were not afraid, nor did they take out their weapons to defend themselves. The oldest driver, after taking a few puffs of his cigarette, said with a smile, "Respected Magic Warrior, you are joking. Our lives are nothing compared to your affairs. If you wish, you can kill us with a single move, and no one will resist."

Dunan was taken aback.

Could the status of a Magic Warrior be more important than your own life?

"Sir, you are still young. Was it some scum robbing and killing that you saw?" the old driver asked.

"Yes," Dunan nodded.

"They deserved to die," the old driver took a few more puffs of his cigarette and continued, "To be honest, we do this kind of thing every day. On Scrap Iron Planet, the motorcycle thugs you see are all scoundrels who deserve to die a hundred times. Including us, we would not be able to atone for our sins even if we died ten thousand times."

The group burst into laughter.

There was no intention of opposition. From their appearance, if Dunan were to take action, they would submit to 'fate' and not resist.

"Is there any special reason?" Dunan asked curiously.

The old driver turned his head, looked at the not fully grown child, and sighed, "Sir, you are still young and there are many things you don't understand. Listen to me, Old Iron Hammer. When you encounter danger, find scoundrels like us, show your Magic Warrior abilities, and someone will risk their life to help you."

Dunan was confused and asked, "If you don't want to be this kind of person, why don't you do something else?"

The group's faces darkened upon hearing this.

The old driver shook his head and said, "Sir, how can we not answer your question? If you are not bothered, listen carefully."

Dunan sat steadily, ready to listen.

"We are a bunch of scoundrels," the old driver began, and the others nodded in agreement. "On Scrap Iron Planet, we rob food, kidnap women, steal valuable minerals and metals. We kill people every few days. Without a large number of guns, even insect beasts dare not be hunted. Small teams can only rob the weak for their survival. With guns, we can sometimes hunt ten to twelve insect beasts."

"I haven't heard about arson," Dunan added. "I haven't seen it on the way."

"That's not what we do," one of the young 'scoundrels' said, his eyes filled with anger.

The old driver laughed, "Sir, are you new here? You don't even know this? We are thugs, not hunters. Arson, blowing up houses, destroying factories and farmland, that's what the hunters do. We thugs help put out fires and repair houses, but we don't set fires."

Dunan was even more confused and asked, "What are hunters?"

"Retired regular soldiers, mercenaries for money, and local mad dogs who want to escape Scrap Iron Planet and believe that the major federations will recognize them and give them benefits. They are the judges of the major powers, specifically targeting us criminals. Whenever they want to build cities, open farmland, or set up factories, they come to judge us, burn, and destroy all production bases. Sir, can you understand? On Scrap Iron Planet, we must live in a state without society, or it's a death sentence."

Dunan was shocked, and in an instant, he felt the roles of officials and bandits had switched. Are these bandits resisters? "Does Scrap Iron Planet have cities?"

"Yes!" the group answered in unison, their faces glowing.

"Yes, yes," the old driver said proudly, "The great Eight Kings and countless Magic Warriors have built many cities on Scrap Iron Planet. I've heard that in the cities, no one goes hungry, everyone has clothes to wear, everyone has a job and a salary, and one person's hard work can support a family."

Dunan looked puzzled.

He thought, is this kind of life in the city already very impressive?

"Since the cities are so good, why don't you go there?"

The group's faces darkened, and the old driver sighed, "We scoundrels, how can we have the right to live in the city? The city doesn't block us, but such a good place cannot be stained by our blood. It's better not to go. Our lives are destined to end at the hands of the hunters. We only hope that the gods will open their eyes and let us take a hunter with us when we die, so we can say we didn't live in vain."

As he spoke, there was a screeching sound.

The convoy stopped.

On the roadside.

A frail old scholar extended his hand to stop the large convoy. Dunan was about to speak to save the old man, but the thugs were faster, as if they had practiced it dozens of times. They respectfully got off the motorcycles, carried the old scholar's luggage, and helped him onto the vehicle. Their demeanor was more respectful than a group of grandchildren serving their grandfather.

Dunan was puzzled and carefully sensed.

He found that the old man indeed had a 'terminal illness'... too much poison in his body, with only four or five years left to live. He was not some hidden strong person.

With this little strength, any one of the convoy could crush him with one hand.

Thump.

As soon as the old scholar got in the car, he saw the young Dunan and immediately hit the convoy leader's helmet with his cane, lightly scolding, "Is this boy a cargo you bought? What a bunch of scoundrels, now you're selling boys too? Release him, release him quickly."

Seeing the old scholar's commotion, Dunan was a bit worried at first.

But...

"No, no, no, sir, don't be angry. This is a Magic Warrior, not our cargo," the convoy leader, who was as tall and strong as a beast, said with a smile, his head lowered, afraid that the old man might not hit him.

"Magic Warrior?" the old man's eyes lit up.

He slightly bent his body and bowed to Dunan. His eyes were moist, but he didn't say anything.

"Sir, you don't need to show me any respect. I'm not a great benefactor. Today, I'm just using their car to find something," Dunan realized that the thugs didn't recognize the old man, but they were respectful because of... books! The younger thugs kept staring at the books. The other gold watches, silver ornaments, copper scrolls, and jade pens, they didn't even glance at.

Dunan also noticed that the convoy leader had already slipped a silver bracelet into the old man's luggage while moving things.

"You can call me sir..." the old scholar's eyes welled up, "That's good, you're a good child. It's fine, they can't do much, they can't do anything in their lives. You are different, it's good that you are here, it's good that you are here."

The old scholar mumbled and nodded repeatedly.

At this moment.

Dunan was about to speak when his face suddenly changed. His figure moved, and his right hand, like a punch, extended in front of the old scholar.

Everyone was shocked.

They were about to protect the old scholar, their hero in their hearts. But when they focused, they saw a poisoned crossbow bolt firmly held in Dunan's hand, only two or three centimeters from the old scholar's forehead. Seeing this, everyone immediately shouted, "Be careful, protect the teacher, protect the sir."

Thump, thump, thump.

The convoy stopped and turned, rushing to protect the old scholar's vehicle. At this moment, bullets were flying. The bullet marks, like fire snakes, all concentrated on the old scholar. The thugs with weapons seemed to ignore the situation.

"I, I, I..."

One of the thugs reacted very quickly, quickly grabbed a pile of books, jumped out of the car, and ran, shouting, "I, I have books, shoot me."

This situation, this reaction.

Dunan was shocked.

The thug holding the books seemed to have taken something important. The enemy divided three or four lines of fire to shoot at the 'stupid book thief.'

The strongest fire still focused on the old scholar.

"Boring." Seeing the thugs risking their lives to protect the old scholar, Dunan was speechless. A Magic Energy Field spread, turning into a pure blue water curtain, blocking all bullets. With a wave of his hand, he also brought back the 'stupid book thief' for protection.

Boom!

Several hundred meters away, a sniper rifle fired.

Hmph! Dunan's right hand slapped, as if swatting a fly, deflecting the heavy sniper bullet. The sniper, weakened by the water curtain, was nothing to him. Now, the enemy's target was the old scholar, ignoring the greatest threat, himself. Dunan understood.

The enemy must be hunters.

What puzzled Dunan now was why the hunters didn't kill the thugs but only targeted the old scholar. What could this old man do, with only a few years left to live?

Several missiles shot over.

The thugs' convoy exploded repeatedly, and Dunan could only protect one vehicle.

"Sir, please..." the old driver rushed to the old scholar, as if he were his father, and pleaded to Dunan.

"Alright, I'll do something, just as a ride fee," Dunan interrupted his words, waved his hand, and picked up more than ten scattered coins. His fingers snapped, and the air buzzed, causing ear pain. In less than two seconds, the enemy's fire stopped, and no one was left alive. Even the strongest sniper was killed.

Everyone calmed down, grateful and shocked.

The power of this 'sir' far exceeded their imagination.

The old scholar, seeing the matter resolved, quickly got out of the car. He walked to the heavily injured thugs, tears streaming down his face, unable to speak. At this moment, the heavily injured thugs spoke, "Teacher, don't cry, cough... We are dirty thugs, we should die on the roadside, to feed wild beasts. This is our fate, cough... Unfortunately, we didn't take a hunter with us when we died. But it's good that the teacher is safe... We didn't die in vain."

Dunan listened to the conversation, feeling a bit heavy-hearted.

These people didn't recognize the old man, but they called him teacher, probably out of habit.

"I'm called Iron Nail, teacher, cough... If possible, I hope, I hope to die with my brothers. Carve our names on the same stone... This life, I didn't live in vain," Iron Nail said with a smile, then passed away.

His face still carried a slight sense of happiness.

Half a moment later.

The convoy leader buried his brothers' bodies and found a large stone. Under the old scholar's guidance, he wrote names like 'Iron Nail, Iron Wire, Iron Knife, Iron Rod,' etc. Perhaps they had never read books or recognized words, and it was strange that they could even name themselves. No one in the convoy could read.

After bidding farewell.

Another stretch of the journey, the old scholar got off the car.

He was greeted by a group of children hiding in a cave. Looking at the children, it seemed they hadn't seen the sun for a long time.

They were pale and frightening.

Dunan, sitting in the car, was speechless, but the old driver wasn't too sad, "Sir, thank you for your great kindness. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have survived. Sir, don't be upset, we are thugs, and our lives are already over. As long as the teacher is safe, everything is unimportant. The Eight Kings have said: we are all trash, and no one will help us. To live a life without regret, teach your son to recognize more words and learn more skills. If you want Scrap Iron Planet to have a future, killing all the hunters is not enough; protecting those who bring light is more important. Sir, can you understand? I, Iron Hammer, don't understand. But from the moment we understood, from the moment we became thugs, we have to protect those who hold books."

"The dead old man said, they hold the light, they hold the future of our children," a young thug continued, completely believing this.

"They know how to repair cars and make guns, we know nothing, we can't even write our names," another young thug said.

"They know how to grow food and treat diseases, we only know how to rob and kill," the convoy leader also spoke, "So we are dirty thugs, we should die on the roadside, die at the hands of the hunters. The teacher cannot die, we must take him to our children. To survive, we can do bad things to anyone. For the teacher, we can risk our lives, and only then will there be a future for our children on Scrap Iron Planet."

Hearing these words, Dunan suddenly felt these people's figures were particularly tall.

At this moment, Dunan felt he was missing something.

He was still lacking something.

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