Two horses and two knights are getting faster and faster.

The huge body of the war horse, the heavy vests on its body, the huge weight of the knights and their armor, made a rumbling sound of horse hooves in the middle of the arena, and many viewers felt their hearts beating with the rhythmic sound of horse hooves.

"They put their flat rider spear!"

The two knights in the competition all placed the spear in their hands flat, clamped the tail of the spear handle under their armpits, controlled their close friends under their crotch, slightly adjusting the direction facing the spear head, hoping that they could hit the opponent and escape unstoppable.

Almost everyone held their breath at the same time, staring at the two swift figures intently, for fear of missing the most exciting scene at the climax.

"Click!"

Accompanied by a huge riding spear breaking, gorgeous fireworks made of wood chips bloomed at the intersection of the two men and horses.

"No!" "Oh!" A scream and excited shout rang out almost at the same time.

The figure with a bright rose-patterned handkerchief on his waist seemed to be hit by an irresistible huge force, and his whole body leaned over weakly. Looking at him, a broken spear was inserted on his shoulder.

"O God!"

The current martial arts competition does not pay more attention to viewing and the lives of contestants like the high and late periods of the Middle Ages. This is a simulated war. The weapons used are sharp and sharp bladed weapons used on the battlefield in normal times, rather than blunt-headed weapons specially prepared for martial arts competitions later.

In addition, the technology of forging plate armor has not yet appeared. It is completely fine for knights to defend against conventional sword-cutting attacks and ordinary spear attacks, but it is basically difficult to resist when encountering spear-cracking sprints at such high speed as before.

"Mr. Kyle!"

In the aristocratic wooden audience, a young girl cried and she was wiping the salty tears that kept coming out of her eyes with another rose-patterned handkerchief that was exactly the same as Sir Kyle's waist.

Another knight, who was the winner, was enjoying the cheers of the audience, the honors he received, and the charming eyes thrown by the young noble ladies who admired him.

"Sir Kyle's horse did not run straight, and it was a little deviant from the direction the opponent was riding. He didn't want to pass by his opponent for his own reasons, but he was a little anxious. His shield-holding hand revealed a flaw, which made his opponent penetrate his shoulder instead of his shield." Reger held his chin and looked at the center of the field, saying on his own, wanting to learn some lessons from it.

Sir Kyle's spear was still intact, falling weakly on the grass not far from the intersection, and was being ridiculed and mocked by people.

"Hey, that Knight Kyle is so tall and mighty in the songs of many bards, but today it seems that this is the case. He turned out to be a waste who can't even wipe the corner of his opponent's clothes," an old man with rotten teeth pinched his nose and blew it, rubbing his yellow and green snot on the wooden fence beside the arena. "Is it true that people say that he is a kind protector of the weak?"

"Who knows, everyone is dead anyway," a bearded businessman wearing a linen robe with a strong sweaty smell next to the old man scratched his head indifferently. "Sir About is the final winner, at least his story is undoubtedly true."

In this era of the strong prey on the weak, people admire the strong and despise the weak. Except for the relatives and friends of the losers, no one cares about the outcome of the losers, nor does anyone care about whether they are life or death. Simon couldn't help but think of what his ancestors often said, the winner is the king, and the loser is the bandit.

"Pity." Simon shook his head and sighed, looking at the solemn and sad servants of Sir Kyle coming to soothe the horses, and moved Sir Kyle's warm body away, leaving a terrifying fresh blood.

"It is obvious to everyone. Congratulations to Sir About for winning the final victory! The next one-on-one competition between Sir Gro from the Principal of Swabian and Sir Arger from the Duchy of Normandy!" The chubby royal eunuch said loudly, his fat-stacked chin trembled.

"What, Sir Gro!?" Reger beside Simon's side was blushing, his eyes almost popping out of his eyes, staring at the familiar figure who was playing from the right side of the arena.

"Who? The inner knight of the Duke of Swabian who had a grudge against us in the tavern?" Simon almost forgot about this matter, but when he saw the domineering face in Sir Gro's exquisite open-face helmet, he instantly recalled the scene next to the wooden ladder in the tavern that day.

"snort."

Sir Gro, who was originally smiling, instantly looked stern when he saw his opponent, Sir Alger. His face was as smelly as if someone owed him 100,000 Transnier silver coins.

"It seems that they have a holiday, it's interesting." Simon stroked his chin and looked at Sir Alger, who also looked unhappy.

Both knights are still a little famous. The audience on the sidelines cheered for the knights they supported, while the girls in the front row of the noble stands waved the scarfs in their hands at the knight they liked, trying to attract attention.

According to the past practice, when the two knights rode slowly by, the elegant Sir Alger, although he looked reluctant, still stretched out his hand. However, Sir Gro, who was disgusted with his face, still held the reins tightly and had no intention of reaching out to shake hands with Sir Alger.

"Well!"

There was a booing sound in the noisy audience, and Sir Alger's hand stiffened in the air and rubbed Sir Gro's shoulder armor, which was extremely embarrassing.

Sir Alger couldn't help but feel a little angry.

"Dear Sir Gro, we have only had a small experience that made us unhappy, but you don't have to make such a big deal or even lose the most basic etiquette, right?" Sir Alger turned around and shouted at Sir Gro.

"I have nothing else to say, bastard, you are not worthy of shaking hands with me. Instead of shaking hands with you, I might as well shake hands with Satan." Sir Gro's head did not even turn, and his arrogant voice came into Sir Alger's ears.

"Okay, let's see, bah!" Sir Alger completely turned his face, spit thick phlegm at Sir Gro's back to express disdain. Then he rode his horse and quickly returned to his entrance seat. He took off the shield with his family's seal from his back, and took a brand new green riding spear in the hand of the attendant.

"It's beginning! Come on, Sir Alger, try to stab Grobe, this dog god!" Reger stood up completely regardless of his image and shouted loudly like a civilian audience in the wooden stands. It can be seen how much he hated the proud knight who once humiliated him.

"Donglongdonglong..."

There was another familiar sound of horse hooves, and the distance between the two knights was getting closer and closer. Almost everyone's hearts were hanging. Whoever wins and loses will be revealed in the next second.

"Bang!" "Crack!"

The sound of the huge shield being hit, the loud breaking of the rifle, the splashing of wood chips, and the knights falling on the horse's back all strongly impacting the vision and hearing of every audience.

Still firm on the horse, the knight who raised a broken spear in his hand rushed out, but the emblem on his shield was the one that Regel wanted to see the least.

"Damn it!" Rejel sighed regretfully, and sat down like a deflated ball.

“Wow!”

A warm cheer broke out in the audience on the sidelines, and many townspeople holding Sir Aegro's victory rag certificate even jumped up excitedly.

But this is not the end, and the next scene was beyond everyone's expectations.

Sir Gros threw away his broken spear, clamped his horse's belly hard, and rushed toward Sir Alger, who was lying on the grass and was thrown to death.

"O God!" Some timid people couldn't help but cover their eyes and didn't want to see this cruel scene.

"puff!"

The combined weight of the war horse wearing a vest and the knights carrying it was very heavy. The thick horse hoof, nailed to the iron, kicked hard at Sir Alger's chest. The strong but soft chain mail could not stop the heavy blow.

Sir Alger's eyes, which had been closed tightly, suddenly opened, staring at the boss, full of indescribable surprise and anger.

"Ahem!"

Sir Alger's mouth was covered with blood, covering his chest with one hand and pointing at Sir Gro, who looked proud and relieved with the other hand, but was so angry that he couldn't say a word.

After a while, the weak Sir Alger seemed to have been drained of all his strength and vitality and never moved again.

"If you do it beautifully, you should do it like this! Step on him to death, step on him to death!" The rude townspeople who had been suppressed for a long time enjoyed the violent visual feast in front of them. This wonderful scene that they would never see during boring days was crying heart-wrenchingly.

"My God, it's so cruel. You have already won the game, why do you still do this?" Many of the townspeople with neutral positions were puzzled, but Sir Alger's failure was already a certain fact and had little to do with them, so they just watched all this numbly.

"You damn bloodthirsty demon, a vengeful ghoul, should go to hell!" Some townsmen who felt strongly discomfort swear loudly, and spit out saliva at Sir Gro, who was riding with a relaxed face in the audience at this time.
Chapter completed!