Chapter 157 Chapter 156 Who is the Champion
Suddenly, a gasp rang out from the crowd, jolting Jima out of her thoughts.
A dozen flying horses soared through the sky, their snow-white wings flapping as they carried their knights, majestically flying over the audience, instantly capturing everyone’s attention.
Majestic, what? I can fly too.
Jima looked up at them, feeling a bit jealous inside.
“What’s wrong? Is your crush up there?”
“No, he’s not. He doesn’t like wasting money on useless things.”
Only wealthy or courageous knights could have a flying warhorse.
“Oh? What a pity,” said the golden beauty, “I’m interested in a flying horse knight. Sir Tongde, do you see him? That knight in silver armor.”
No one could ignore Sir Tongde riding his flying horse. Dressed in Milanese plate armor, polished to a mirror finish, it shimmered in the sunlight. As he flew over the audience, everyone could see the intricate acid-etched patterns on his armor.
Coupled with his flying horse, which was completely snow-white, even whiter than the White Horse Prince.
At that moment, Sir Tongde turned back on his flying horse and waved towards Jima in the audience, holding his knight’s sword. Everyone could see that the hilt was bare, lacking any lady’s ribbon.
The noblewomen in the audience momentarily forgot decorum and upbringing, with several women fanning their faces and screaming, the shrieks creating a contagious wave throughout the crowd.
A noble lady sitting three seats away from Jima nearly slumped to the ground, her wide sleeves brushing the ground as she shouted, “He’s looking at me, looking at me.”
Jima covered her ears and said, “It’s like a chicken crowing in a village, waking up all the chickens in the area.”
The golden beauty’s voice dripped with disdain: “You know a lot about villages?”
Nobles generally looked down on farmers.
Jima replied, “I know about many places: the Empire, the Wretched Lands, the Kingdom of Mountains, the Enchanted Forest, even the island of High Qing that resembles a toilet seat. I’ve been everywhere.”
The golden beauty raised an eyebrow, curiously asking Jima a few questions, and they started chatting back and forth.
As the colorful knights satisfied their desire to show off, the competition officially began.
The knights held easily breakable applewood lances, pairing off to charge at each other, and the arena echoed with sharp, thunder-like sounds of splintering lances.
The winners, riding high on their horses, raised their broken lances to enjoy the cheers of the crowd. The defeated fell from their horses, covered in dirt and could only watch helplessly as the victors reveled on their majestic steeds.
Fortunately, no knights had fought yet.
Jima watched with rapt attention, her hands clenched tightly, her eyes fixed on the knights below as they charged.
In contrast, the golden beauty appeared disinterested, yawning and lazily tapping her lips as she said, “They haven’t even started fighting yet, how boring.”
Jima glanced sideways at the arena and said, “It’s because some clever guy suggested bringing women to watch the knights duel; with women around, the knights will behave more civilly.”
“This lance fighting looks like two kids poking each other with sticks,” said the golden beauty. “There’s no skill to it, just poking with lances.”
“Ha,” Jima couldn’t help but retort, “By your reasoning, all martial arts are merely people waving weapons around, and outsiders wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m just making an example. Timing is crucial when lowering the lance; because the lance is so long and the center of gravity is forward, with only one hand holding it and the horse constantly jostling, if you lower the lance too early, you’ll find it shakes and won’t hit the city gate.”
The golden beauty, feeling sleepier, said casually, “Just lower it when you’re about to get close, right?”
“From your perspective as an outsider, it’s simple. From the first-person view, it’s quite hard to judge distance, especially with the tension of battle. Do you know what a thrust is? On the battlefield, both sides’ spearmen feel tense and forget to lower their long spears when approaching the enemy. With a thud, their chests collide, and neither can drop their spear…”
As Jima spoke passionately, her heart brimmed with the joy of teaching, while the golden beauty found it dull to an extreme, yawning and propping her chin up.
“…Moreover, it’s actually quite rare for cavalry to charge directly because both horse and rider are afraid. During a charge, they can’t help but slow down, eventually stopping to gaze at each other until someone takes the lead.”
“Oh…”
“Look quickly,” Jima pointed at a knight wearing a bucket helmet with a bird on top, who was about to clash with his opponent. “He’s definitely going to win.”
No sooner had the words left her mouth than the knight with the bucket helmet struck the opponent on the head with his lance, breaking it. The other knight fell back from his horse, rolling a few times before getting up dazedly.
“Oh.”
Jima snapped her fingers, “I told you, a sharp eye is essential for a warrior.”
The golden beauty looked at Jima’s toned arms and slim figure with curiosity.
Jima smiled at her, saying, “Though I’m not a warrior, I’ve seen much and have good judgement.”
The golden beauty politely nodded at her.
Ha, I knew my vast knowledge would impress her; my inner charm is bound to attract her deeply.
Jima was not planning to rely too heavily on “charm,” a skill deemed unsportsmanlike. On one hand, she wanted to prove her allure. On the other hand, the golden beauty was no ordinary person; using charm could backfire.
At this moment, a loud horn sounded below.
“Sir Tongde…”
The rest was drowned out by the cheers from the crowd.
Sir Tongde rode his flying horse, which trotted along the ground as he took the lance handed to him by his attendant.
His opponent was a knight clad in black armor, hardly worthy of praise, resembling a bear whose face had been shoved into a brazier, looking fierce and intimidating, perfect for a villain’s role in a theater.
No one cheered for the black knight, and he also had no lady’s ribbon tied to his sword hilt. His face, surrounded by dark hair, shot a furious glare at Sir Tongde, flaring his nostrils angrily. Then he forcefully donned his frog-faced helmet and mounted his black horse.
Jima asked, “Did Sir Tongde steal this black giant’s lover?”
The golden beauty retorted, “Do I look like an omniscient person?”
“…the finals…”
Amidst the cheers and clamor, the two could vaguely hear the word “finals.”
Unknowingly, they had reached the finals. Jima checked the time and realized it was around noon.
The golden beauty spoke playfully, “What about your knight, the black-haired lady?”
“He…”
Jima spotted George, who was reading in public, his helmet and gauntlets lying at his feet, and wearing a new cloak that covered his shoulders, hiding the asymmetrical shoulder armor.
Jima’s gaze lingered on his sword. This guy had no ribbon from Eve Frostleaf tied to the hilt; nothing was tied at all.
“He didn’t participate,” Jima said. “Because he’s too strong; entering the competition would make it predictable.”
The golden beauty burst out laughing, “You two have a good relationship. Even with your hair down, unbound, you still defend him.”
Jima replied earnestly, “I’m speaking the truth.”
“Okay, black-haired lady,” said the golden beauty, “You’re quite interesting.”
“I’ve always been interesting, golden lady.”
As Jima spoke, she looked towards George.
Why wasn’t he joining the competition? What was the reason?
During their conversation, the black and white knights charged at each other. The black knight appeared a head taller than the silvery Sir Tongde, his black horse thundering like lightning.
As they approached, the black knight was about to lower his long, heavy lance, but his black horse suddenly lost control, causing the lance tip to veer just slightly.
In skilled combat, this slight error was enough.
Sir Tongde leaned forward, and his lance struck the black knight’s bucket helmet with speed and precision. The latter’s head snapped back, his helmet spinning off into the air, while he tightly clamped his legs around the mount.
As long as he didn’t fall, there was still hope.
But the horse neighed in panic, collapsing to the ground, throwing the heavy black knight down.
A wave of cheers erupted from the audience, with many women clapping in celebration, disregarding decorum.
Sir Tongde raised his visor, a proud smile on his face, waving to the noble girls in the audience.
He rode his flying horse around, enjoying the glory of being the champion. His flying horse strode gracefully, while the white feathers on his helmet bobbed up and down like a proud little rooster.
“A clean and swift strike,” Jima evaluated. “It’s a pity the black knight’s mount wasn’t good enough, dragging down its master. It could be considered a glorious defeat.”
The black knight raised his head from the dirt, blood and mud streaming down his face as he glared at the triumphant Sir Tongde.
A servant approached to help the black knight up, but he pushed them away with one hand, heading straight for his black horse. He drew the double-handed sword hanging from it, raised it high, and swung down heavily towards the horse’s neck.
“Um!”
Amidst the gasps, the horse’s head fell, bloodied, onto the ground.
Jima felt pained to watch; a horse capable of carrying one clad in thick steel armor was no ordinary creature and was quite expensive.
With the bloody sword in hand, the black knight strode towards the white knight.
However, the white knight, donned in his helmet, was unaware of what had transpired, still smiling at Jima.
Ladies shouted, “Watch out from behind!”
“What?”
Just as the white knight finished speaking, the black knight suddenly charged forward, his heavy armored body leaping through the air and landing forcefully on the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
He closed the range in an instant, gripping the sword blade and reversing his grip on the longsword, swinging both arms with great force, bringing the hilt crashing down towards the white knight’s head.
This attack was meant to kill the white knight, exerting no restraint and showing no regard for chivalry.
“Thud!”
A dull thud sounded.
The weighted end of the sword crashed heavily against the white knight’s helmet.
This reverse grip technique was akin to using the longsword as a blunt weapon; the white knight was essentially struck in the head from behind by a two-handed blunt object.
Without a doubt, the white knight’s helmet strap snapped with a crack, spiraling off towards a lady in the audience, seemingly on the verge of hitting her.
Jima hadn’t noticed; she was fixated on the scene below.
The white knight fell from his flying horse, one hand clutching his head, dazedly staring at the black knight, sword drawn and lunging at his face.
Women reacted, realizing the white knight was in mortal danger, and the screams intensified.
At this moment, Jima was thankful that the golden beauty beside her wasn’t screaming.
As the black knight’s sword tip drew closer to the white knight, a concave helmet soared through the air, deflecting the black knight’s sword harmlessly to the ground, rolling to a stop with a white feather stuck atop it—indeed, the white knight’s helmet.
The black knight looked up in surprise.
George Hammer, dressed in mismatched armor, stepped in front of the lady nearly struck by the helmet and pointed his sword at the black knight, saying, “You have broken the law.”
