The last scene Leona saw was Eric's wrist twitching, and the rope immediately wrapped around the manager's neck like a living creature, tightening fiercely.
The manager's pupils dilated abruptly. Apparently, he hadn't expected to be caught around the neck while riding a horse. He reached out for his gun—
In the next moment, there was a crisp cracking sound.
The manager's neck snapped abruptly, and his head hung down at a terrible angle. His whole body thudded to the ground.
The surrounding guards finally snapped out of it and hurriedly drew their guns to fight back.
Before the first gunshot landed, Caesar was so scared that he turned around and ran.
In her panic, Leona could only hold tightly onto the horse's neck, praying not to fall off.
The gunfire behind didn't stop, mixed with several incredulous curses and screams—the group seemed unable to hit Eric no matter what.
Sometimes, even when they aimed at Eric, they ended up hitting their own people.
Leona felt a chill of horror shoot up her spine.
She had guessed right and also figured it out.
As the protagonist of a horror movie, Eric not only inherited the extraordinary wisdom from the original work but also possessed strength beyond human limits.
—in the history of horror films, many assassins had astonishing regenerative abilities. Even if they were shot multiple times, they could still stand up and continue to pursue their prey unhurriedly.
If she had chosen the manager, probably her head would have been twisted off on the spot.
...She had narrowly escaped again.
It was unknown how much time had passed beforeCaesar finally stopped running wildly.
He panted heavily and walked to the river, starting to drink water.
Leona wanted to slide off the horseback while he was doing this, but seeing how deep and dirty the mud by the river was, almost swallowing the horse's knees, she thought it was better to stay on the horseback.
She didn't want to use her feet to explore what was under the mud.
As the fog dissipated, the gloomy night gradually brightened, revealing a hint of dawn with a mix of red and green.
The last heart-wrenching scream sounded, and this one-sided massacre finally ended.
Leona looked in the direction of the sound and saw Eric walking towards her in the cold light of day and night.
His white mask was soaked with blood, and the gaze behind his eye holes lost its usual emptiness and indifference, appearing unprecedentedly excited, as if he had enjoyed a very satisfying hunt.
No, that's not right.
The moment Leona met his gaze, she felt her hair stand on end, and her brain's alarm bells rang loudly—he wasn't satisfied yet; he wanted to continue.
She gripped the reins tightly, her back cold and sticky.
If she could ride a horse, she would have probably run away instinctively the moment she saw him.
Rationally, she knew there was no need to be afraid of him. If he wanted to kill her, he could have snapped her neck hours ago.
There was no need to let her live until now.
But who can control physiological fear?
Leona could only take a deep breath, dig her nails into her palms, steady herself firmly, and do her best not to fall off the horseback.
Kai Su had been impatiently snorting, its hooves scraping in the mud, seemingly hoping she would get off the horseback to groom it and clean its hooves.
Seeing Eric, it instantly quieted down and pretended to be busy nibbling on grass.
Leona felt this horse was too clever, almost making her want to slap it.
At this moment, Eric walked up to her side.
Leona was tense all over, always feeling that he would drag her off the horse in the next moment and stab her throat to make up for the dissatisfaction of the hunt.
Fortunately, it was just her illusion.
He calmly climbed onto the horse, pulled the reins from behind her, turned the horse's head, and walked towards an unfamiliar direction.
Leona didn't know where he was going and didn't dare to ask.
As the fog cleared and the sky grew brighter.
After making sure Eric wouldn't kill her, Leona felt somewhat drowsy and wanted to close her eyes regardless, never to wake up again.
Suddenly, a hand reached into her pocket.
She woke up abruptly.
It was Eric.
He stuffed a delicate wallet into her pocket.
Leona took it out and turned to ask, "Can I open it and have a look?"
When there was no response, it meant yes.
Leona opened the wallet and found various national currencies inside—it should be the manager's wallet, prepared for different countries during tours, including pounds, dollars, francs, and even several gold coins.
She had no concept of the amount of money, and Eric was unwilling to talk to her.
If she wanted to survive in this era, she estimated she needed to make a few more friends—friends who could tell her basic life knowledge.
Leona eventually fell asleep again.
When she woke up again, the surroundings had become a simple tent—very small, only accommodating one person. She was lying on a wool blanket.
The blanket should have been fromCaesar's saddle, smelling of horse sweat.
Outside the tent was a warm fire.
Eric picked up several stones and built a fire pit that was not easy to extinguish.
He disappeared somewhere, leaving Leona alone facingCaesar.
A few seconds later, Leona stood up and cautiously approached it: "Good horse, sweet horse, you are the best little horse in the world, don't move, let me take my backpack off..."
Kai Su seemed physically and mentally exhausted, no longer having the energy to give her attitude, glanced at her, and lowered its head to continue nibbling on grass.
Leona gritted her teeth and struggled to carry the backpack down.
At that moment, her hands were shaking.
This wasn't just a backpack; it contained clean underwear, clean clothes, a clean blanket, clean shoes, and clean water.
...and the beef hot pot canned food that sustained her until now.
Leona took a deep breath, dragged the backpack into the tent, and quickly opened it to find clean underwear.
In the circus, she could only bathe once a week, and it was still shared by everyone—a person would bathe after the previous one finished.
Although she wiped her body frequently with a sponge, due to the dirty environment and lack of clean clothes, she couldn't avoid having a sweaty smell.
Especially the bustier, which had become somewhat sour.
Now, she could finally change into clean and comfortable underwear.
Leona took off her bustier, wiped the sticky sweat off her body with a wet wipe, and put on the light and breathable sports bra. At that moment, she was almost in tears.
If she could go back, she would write a thousand-word review, praising how this bra saved her precarious mental state in the 19th century.
Besides underwear, the backpack also contained T-shirts, long pants, and a pair of thin and lightweight sports shoes, all from pretty expensive brands.
Leona planned to wait until she reached a place without horse manure or mud before reverently changing into them.
After admiring her clothes, she closed her eyes to rest for a moment, then took out the three-pound hot pot canned food with almost reverent attitude.
The expiration date was exciting—36 months, meaning she could live here for three years with great anticipation.
The ingredient list was clean, topped with beef, bone broth, and beef fat.
The moment she smelled the familiar aroma, Leona felt a lump in her throat and was almost in tears.
She missed home.
Until now, she hadn't taken out her phone, fearing the despair of being unable to connect to the internet.
She didn't want to experience the despair of having a phone and contacts but being unable to contact family and friends.
Leona wiped her tears, picked up some sticks, and placed the canned food on the fire.
Soon, the hot pot began to boil, emitting a strong spicy aroma that made one's mouth water.
Leona broke apart disposable chopsticks, picked up a piece of beef, checked its doneness, and couldn't wait to eat it.
It was hot, but the meat was thick and tender, soaked in the rich and spicy beef fat sauce.
With one bite, she almost cried again.
This time it was out of greed.
At this moment, footsteps sounded, getting closer.
Leona looked up.
Eric came back.
The blood on his mask had been washed away, and the gaze behind his eye holes was cold and calm, the restless excitement seemed to have completely settled down. He held a skinned rabbit in his hand, exposing its fresh red and slippery cavity, blood dripping down continuously.
He stopped and looked at the hot pot in front of her, wondering what to think.
The canned hot pot was quite substantial, enough for two or three people.
Seeing him come back, Leona immediately threw down her chopsticks and called him over to eat together.
Eric slowly walked to her side and sat down.
Leona introduced, "This is hot pot, a bit like cheese fondue, but the difference is that hot pot uses beef fat, bone broth, chili peppers... and a bunch of spices. The way to eat is to put raw meat and vegetables in, and it's ready to eat once cooked. It might be a bit spicy, spicier than Mexican salsa... Have you ever had chili peppers?"
After a while, he nodded.
"Then it should be fine," Leona tore off a new pair of chopsticks for him, demonstrated how to use the chopsticks in front of him, and looked at him eagerly, "Try it, it's really delicious."
Eric looked at her, imitated her movements, picked up a piece of beef and put it in his mouth.
His taste buds weren't strong; bitterness, sourness, sweetness, and saltiness made no difference to him.
He had eaten raw chili peppers in Persia, but that was to stay alert, not to satisfy his appetite—The king locked him and several death row inmates together, letting him publicly demonstrate how to kill with a rope.
The death row inmates held spears and machetes, while he only had a rope in his hand. ⑴
But for some reason, his appetite was somewhat satisfied at this moment.
Perhaps it was because of her eyes.
Her eyes seemed to have been crying; they were bright and clear, full of vigorous vitality, like the rapidly pulsating blood vessels on the neck of prey, making one suddenly want to destroy.
—to press her down, slowly bring the blade closer to her eyes, until she couldn't help but cry.
She would cry.
She was a timid and lazy girl, afraid of dirt and tiredness, without backbone, always looking at him with a heavy fear in her eyes, like a frightened little animal.
She was so weak, so ignorant, not even knowing how to approachCaesar. WhenCaesar snorted and bared its teeth, she would retreat in fear.
He had to finish it for her.
Sometimes he would ask himself why he hadn't killed her yet.
Maybe because he liked the game of hunting her—blocking her, scaring her, then being soothed by her.
Or perhaps it was because her closeness had set a bad precedent.
He began to get used to her touch, sometimes even using scare tactics to get her touch.
He wasn't worried about becoming addicted to such interactions.
Although she hadn't left him until now, always enduring fear to approach him, embrace him, kiss his mask, and steadfastly choose him in front of everyone.
But one day, she would abandon him.
Just like his mother, who screamed, fainted, and almost went mad at the sight of his face, tremblingly putting a mask on him.
It won't be too late for him to kill her then.