’Who?’ That was her thought after hearing the voice coming from above before the figure dropped down from one of the trees in this secluded area.

The owner of the voice was a dark elf who drew the eye with an effortless confidence that seemed entirely unintentional. Her skin had the deep, dusky hue characteristic of her kind, contrasting sharply with her silver pupils, which gleamed like polished moonlight.

Those eyes were strangely unsettling. They were not cold, nor particularly intimidating, yet they carried the sensation of looking into something ancient. Resting against her shoulder was a black wooden sword, its dark surface devoid of ornamentation. It looked too simple to be remarkable, yet somehow appeared more dangerous than the jeweled weapons carried by renowned cultivators.

The woman observing Eva was no stranger to attention herself. Her own figure was fuller than most, blessed with curves that turned heads wherever she went. Yet even she had to admit the dark elf possessed a silhouette that was difficult to ignore.

Her chest was very modest by comparison, but what she lacked there was more than compensated elsewhere. Her hips curved with a natural elegance, flowing into a shapely backside that lent every step a fluid grace. It was the kind of figure countless artists would spend years trying to capture and still fail to do justice to. There was nothing exaggerated about it; every proportion simply seemed to exist in perfect harmony.

What truly held her attention, however, was the crystal earring dangling from the elf’s left ear. A single purple gem, faceted and translucent, swirled with faint runic patterns beneath its surface. The runes drifted lazily like ink suspended in water, beautiful enough to admire at a glance. Yet every time she tried to focus on them, her concentration slipped away.

The details became strangely difficult to grasp. Moments later, she would realize she could no longer remember what the runes looked like at all. The realization sent a faint chill through her. It was not merely an ornament. It was something designed to be forgotten, and perhaps that was precisely what made it so memorable.

’Damn. I didn’t even notice she was around here. Did she notice me? Should I still step out?’ While she thought about all this, the dark elf, Eva, took her wooden sword from behind her shoulder, holding it with practiced ease.

Over the past few years, with her talent and resonance with the very concept of swords, she has risen in expertise in swordsmanship, placing her firmly at the top of swordsmasters.

"Ah? We mean no harm at all," The three ’thugs’ realized they had been caught and raised their hands in quick surrender. Thug number 1 with a scar waved at Eva, saying, "We just happened to be walking in the same direction as this gentle old man. These streets can be dangerous at night, so we thought we’d escort him safely to his destination."

Normal mortals wisely avoided confronting practitioners. Even a novice like Eva posed a grave threat, so the thugs opted for a less aggressive approach to ensure their survival.

"Hphmm, do you think I will believe such an obvious lie?" Eva said with disapproval. "You trailed an elderly man into an increasingly desolate part of the city. You repeatedly scanned your surroundings for any witnesses. Whenever he slowed, you adjusted your pace accordingly, your movements synchronizing without the necessity of words. Those are the actions I observed so far." Her silver eyes flickered over each of them, piercing as they searched for remorse.

"And now," she continued, her demeanor sharpening, "you expect me to believe you were acting out of kindness?"

"No, no, we meant no harm at all, young warrior." The leader said, while the other two stayed quiet, looking as though they were still reeling from the shock at being caught.

This made Eva frown slightly. ’He is saying the truth? That’s weird, I clearly felt negative intent from them just moments ago as they approached that elderly man.’ She faced the older man.

"Elder, do you recognize any of these men?" Eva asked the calm old man. She felt old age came with a lot of experience for the man to remain this calm, saying nothing even after being surrounded by three men who clearly had some intent.

The man shook his head slowly, "I do not know who they are, young missie, but I have heard there have been a lot of muggings in these parts lately. Sadly, this is the only route to my shop, and I need to go through here every week."

"So that’s how it is." She stepped closer to the three, drawing her wooden sword, making them panic even more. "Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you if you don’t resist. I will just hand your gang over to the city guards. I am sure they can handle any investigations from there."

"Men like you are precisely why honest individuals fear to traverse these streets after sunset. You may not have done anything yet, but your intent was obvious. If I had arrived merely minutes later, would you still be spouting your pitiful excuses? Would this elder have reached his destination without suffering?"

Silence filled the space, thick and suffocating, as none dared to respond. "Look at yourselves," she commanded, her voice powerful and riddled with intent. Her words impacted them far more significantly than any physical blow could. "Three healthy men, towering over an old man who can barely shuffle forward. Is this what you have become? Is this the limit of your courage? You prey on the weak. How pathetic."

This outcome seems to bring a lot of relief to the three of them. Facing the city guards was a lot more desirable than facing an angry practitioner who takes justice a little too far.

Drawing her sword was just to let them know that doing anything foolish would end up with them being bedridden for weeks, so with their surrender without resistance, she quickly got to work.

Initially, she was expecting a certain level of resistance from those three, but everything worked out so smoothly that she couldn’t help but suspect they had something planned. Thankfully, she got the guards involved without any further problem. Satisfied to see them taken away, she accompanied the elderly man to his destination before heading back.

She noticed an observer throughout the entire process, but she didn’t bother with them, as they held no malice towards her or the old man; in fact, she felt kindness towards them. It was a weird feeling, hard to describe with words. Without putting much thought into it, she decided to let it be; she was running out of time anyway. She has to go back to the merchant she bought the items from, pick them up, and meet up with Alaric.

The woman watched the dark elf depart before stepping out from behind the trees. ’How weird. I did not see that happening. Anyway, it isn’t the only opportunity in this city, and she seems to be a genuinely good person. Most would still have failed to get any reward from this encounter even if they had intervened. After all, this isn’t just about saving the old man, but also about how you decide to help the old man.

Cultivators don’t really care much about the lives in this city; some will choose not to bother helping the man, while others would outright kill those thugs without a second thought. But that elf did great; she took them to the city guards without physically harming them, while also reprimanding their behavior.

For most cultivators, harming such ’lowlives’ is hardly considered a moral dilemma; the city’s rules accept that defending oneself against criminals is justified, even expected. However, to go so far as to kill them, especially in a city where one is merely a visitor, and without respect for the local laws and customs, crosses a line. Such an act can be seen as an open challenge to the city’s authority, a statement of disregard that borders on rebellion and invites consequences far beyond a simple act of self-defense.

She shook her head, pushing aside these thoughts. There were more pressing matters to attend to, and dwelling on the choices of others served little purpose now.

With a final glance at the now-empty place, she turned and melted into the city’s winding paths, her mind already shifting to the countless possibilities the night could offer. There would be other tests, other encounters, and she intended to be ready for all of them.

Any candidate with keen perception would realize that this city was no ordinary place; it had been meticulously arranged, almost as though it were a stage set for their arrival. The encounter with the thugs had been more than mere happenstance; it was an orchestrated scenario, a test designed to gauge the responses of those who wished to prove themselves worthy.

This city’s wealth was evident everywhere, from the immaculate streets to the abundance of work and resources for its citizens. There were no beggars, and hunger was a foreign concept within its walls. Poverty and desperation simply had no foothold here. With such prosperity, the very idea of common thugs preying on passersby seemed absurd, making it clear that the mugging was never about crime, but about observation and judgment.