Chapter 86: Vigilante Justice of the Majority

Yuxing heard more voices, coming from all directions, different people with different tones plotting their attack. Some had set their sights on Maguna, intending to kill him outright, relying on their superior numbers and weapons. No matter how powerful he was, he couldn’t fend off so many at once; even a master could fall to a flurry of blows—so their hope was considerable.

Others targeted Yuxing’s group, for they all retained the appearance of Earthlings. Earthlings were known throughout the cosmos as a weak race, dependent on Earth’s protection for their place in the universe; otherwise, they would have been exterminated long ago.

Once their plans were set, the attackers lay in wait, watching. But the prey halted, neither scattering nor advancing. As no one dared to act, their gazes unconsciously turned to Maguna, the acknowledged strongest among them—his display in the cave had established his authority. Though Maguna himself likely hadn’t noticed, everyone instinctively gravitated toward him.

Seeing Maguna remain rooted to the spot, the others followed suit, clustering around him. Occasionally, murmurs drifted through the crowd; some wondered aloud what was happening.

“We’re being watched. Someone wants to rob and kill us.”

“Rob us? We’ve lost all our luggage—what’s left to steal...?”

At that, the speaker instinctively tightened their grip on their supply bag.

Even the slow-witted now realized what was happening. The tension they’d felt, once a vague unease, was now clear: a horde of villains had marked them, coveting their supplies—and their lives.

What to do?

Seasoned warriors like Maguna remained calm. In this terrain, enemies couldn’t swarm at once; he was confident he could take them all down.

But most travelers were ordinary folk, average denizens of the cosmos, lacking exceptional combat skills or powers. They were nearly ready to surrender their supplies to save themselves.

“We can’t give up our supplies,” someone murmured from within the crowd.

“If you lose your supplies, you’re left with only one option—to rob others.”

Even the timid understood now, abandoning any thought of trading goods for safety. The way these predators eyed their bags made it clear: supplies were essential, hard to obtain, and the only apparent method was to rob newcomers. Perhaps there were other ways, but robbing newcomers was obviously the quickest and easiest, given how eagerly these people pursued it. The difficulty of alternatives was evident.

“So how do we escape?” someone asked.

The net was already cast; their attackers knew the terrain and streets, while the newly arrived were blind, ignorant of everything. They had neither time nor place nor allies.

Things couldn’t be worse.

To make matters worse, the hunters were patient. Seeing their prey yet to enter the trap, they simply watched, confident none would escape.

“We need to show them we’re not easy targets,” someone suggested.

Intimidating the enemy, making the hunters abandon their pursuit, was an option.

Yuxing lowered his gaze to the assailant whose arm he’d disabled. The man sat clutching his injured limb, drenched in cold sweat. If their group was attacked, others might survive, but this one was doomed—unless, perhaps, he lived because his supply bag had already been stolen.

Perhaps Yuxing's unusual attention drew others; gradually, their gazes settled on the man sitting in their midst.

Travelers recognized him; after all, they'd seen him about the ship. He and his partners often recruited new members, demanding fees, and those who refused were beaten and bullied. Among the crowd were people he’d extorted, forced into joining, even assaulted.

“...Why are you all staring at me?” the thug muttered, a sense of foreboding rising swiftly. He wanted to flee, but couldn’t; he was at the center of the crowd, and since he’d drawn a knife, everyone regarded him as dangerous, keeping their distance and forming a human wall.

On any other day, he might have pushed through and escaped, but now he lacked even the strength to stand, forced to sit under their scrutiny.

“This guy—he suddenly pulled a knife and tried to stab someone. Too frightening,” a traveler said, voice trembling with lingering fear. “If a fight breaks out, what if he ambushes us from behind?”

“He’s lost his supplies. He’ll be forced to rob others,” chimed another, clutching a bottle of water taken from the bag. “He’ll probably wait for chaos, then snatch our supplies.”

“He definitely will,” said a victim of his extortion, hatred thick in his voice; a bruise lingered at the corner of his eye.

“Let’s make an example of him,” someone proposed, suppressing a surge of excitement.

“We should make him scream—loud and miserable. That’ll scare the others off.”

The suggestion opened Pandora’s box; the travelers exchanged glances, then voices rose in agreement.

“Dealing with him early is a good deed,” one said.

“We need to show them we’re not strangers to blood,” another declared, as if to bolster their own courage.

Hearing them condemn him so casually, the thug turned pale, terrified—he no longer cared about his limp arm, struggling to rise and escape, but the human wall pushed him back.

He stumbled and collapsed once more.

Exhausted, his only weapon now in another’s hand, he had no regrets about his attempted attack. He’d meant to ambush the arrogant human from the ship, seize his supply bag, and run.

If he regretted anything, it was only his own weakness—his failure to succeed.