Chapter 213: Chapter 212 Swordsmanship Tournament
Hours had passed in the blink of an eye.
The sun hung high, its bright rays warming the earth, and the enthusiasm amongst the audience in the Duel Arena of Kairo City was also rising.
The Duel Arena in Kairo City wasn’t particularly large but wasn’t small either, holding nearly ten thousand people. It was an oval-shaped structure, as tall as three-story buildings, with a multitude of spectator seats surrounding a central open space almost a hundred meters in diameter.
At that moment, in the open space, two young swordsmen were embroiled in a tense fight. One of them, approximately twenty years old with a stern face, wielded a Two-Handed Greatsword, swinging it widely. The other was Raymond, armed with a One-Handed Sword, somewhat overwhelmed and continuously dodging.
The swords collided from time to time, producing a metallic clang.
The numerous spectators kept shouting, “Kill him, kill him!”
Hearing the crowd’s cries, the man with the Two-Handed Greatsword revealed a ferocious smile, looked at Raymond menacingly, increased the intensity of his attacks, and forced Raymond to keep retreating as he said, “Kid, either surrender quickly or I’ll kill you! I’m telling you, I can’t be defeated, I’m going to be the champion of this swordsmanship tournament.”
Raymond, looking terrible, continued to retreat as he gasped for breath, slightly regretting his actions from yesterday, which had left him too exhausted to exert any strength or move quickly today. Otherwise, he would have already taken down this clumsy “bear” who relied solely on brute force.
As Raymond thought this, the man with the Two-Handed Heavy Sword launched another powerful attack, first raising the heavy sword high above, then slashing it down fiercely, aiming to split Raymond into two.
But Raymond saw a sharp opportunity. “Good chance!”
The next moment, Raymond burst forth with all his strength, rushed forward as the heavy sword came down, and slammed into the chest of the man with the Two-Handed Heavy Sword, causing him to lose his balance.
With a loud “thump,” the man with the Two-Handed Heavy Sword fell to the ground, and Raymond quickly placed his sword on the man’s neck, panting heavily, “Huff… huff… surrender or want to die?”
“Uh,” the man with the Two-Handed Heavy Sword was still in shock, only stiffening when he felt the cold blade against him, his ferocity having vanished, he stammered, “Su… surrender.”
While speaking, he fumbled inside his jacket, and surprisingly pulled out a white handkerchief, raising and waving it high, apparently well-prepared; of course, this was met with long jeers from the spectators.
Raymond did not want to entangle with him further. As the man had surrendered, he met his goal, took a long breath, and staggered towards the entrance as he now desperately needed to rest.
At one of the entrance points, Richard and Nancy were standing together, watching Raymond walk back, and conversed quietly.
“Who should go first next, you or me?” Richard asked.
“I’ll go first,” Nancy responded with a bit of competitiveness.
“Alright,” Richard replied indifferently.
Meanwhile, the arena’s announcer exclaimed loudly, “Next, we invite two other young swordsmen to the stage. One is… uh, number 17, from Band City, Cristana; and the other is… uh, number 32, from Pompeitz City, Nancy.
Both are Female Swordsmen, hoping that their swordsmanship will be no lesser than the Male Swordsmen. Alright, let’s watch and see who can go further.”
Amidst the announcer’s call, a white handkerchief fell to the ground, and Nancy and her opponent, Cristana, walked to the center of the open space, facing each other.
Nancy observed her opponent and saw a girl slightly shorter than herself, with a face full of freckles, looking icy.
The other girl likewise looked her way, and her first words were, “Bitch!”
Nancy’s eyebrows shot up, the next moment decided not to waste words; she drew her sword and slashed at her opponent.
The opponent blocked it, though slightly rushed, clearly not expecting Nancy to attack without banter.
Nancy didn’t give her any chance to readjust, launched a continuous series of attacks after her initial strike, pressing her opponent into a confused defense, her movements growing more and more disorderly.
The Longsword clashes continued until Nancy suddenly lunged.
The opponent managed to block it hastily; Nancy then swept her blade to slash across her opponent’s wrist.
Blood spurted from the wrist, as the opponent screamed, throwing her Longsword away.
Nancy quickly moved forward, kicked her opponent in the chest, knocking her to the ground then stepping on her.
Swinging her sword, the blade grazed the opponent’s face, drawing a bloody line and causing a mix of shock and fear, with the sword point stopping just above her eye.
Nancy declared, “Dare you repeat what you just said, believe me or not, I can blind you?”
“I…” the freckled girl named Cristana trembled slightly, “I… was wrong, I… I surrender…”
As she spoke, she quickly raised her hands, shaking them to signal the announcer.
The announcer consequently announced the result, which also meant Nancy couldn’t inflict harm on Cristana any further.
Nancy snorted coldly, sheathed her Longsword, and walked towards the entrance where Raymond and Richard were.
“You’re a bit fiery,” Richard said as he saw Nancy walking back, “You fought so fiercely.”
“She insulted me,” Nancy explained.
“Ah, no wonder then,” Richard shrugged, showing understanding.
“It’s actually better this way,” Nancy said with narrowed eyes. “Didn’t Lord Macbeth say that the faster you can win, the better? Next, it’s your turn. I hope you can end the fight even quicker.”
“I’ll try,” Richard replied, stepping towards the center of the arena.
Leaving the entrance, the sunlight shone down, and Richard felt a warmth as he squinted at the dazzling sun overhead and quickly moved forward.
Across from him, another figure also walked quickly, a broad-shouldered man with his upper body bare, holding a broadsword that was four fingers wide. His gaze fell on Richard, who was holding a slender longsword, and he expressed a slightly disdainful look.
Richard’s face remained calm.
The two soon met in the middle of the clearing, and the presenter, slightly delayed, announced, “Hmm, the two swordsmen competing next are number 26—Dela from Nock City, and number 33—Richard from Pompeitz City. Alright, let’s see how they perform.”
As he spoke, the presenter threw a white handkerchief toward the ground.
The handkerchief slowly descended, and both Richard and his opponent, Dela, watched it fall.
“While watching, Dela spoke, “Kid, when I dismember you later, don’t scream too much.”
Richard kept his face expressionless and did not respond, though he thought about certain things: before this swordsmanship competition began, Macbeth had made it clear that he, Nancy, and Raymond had a simple task—to continuously defeat their opponents and keep winning.
Since this was a youth-level swordsmanship competition, it wouldn’t last long, just three days, to be precise, two and a half:
The first day was the preliminary round, where the top eight swordsmen would be selected;
The morning of the second day was the quarterfinals, deciding the top four from the selected eight;
The afternoon of the second day were the semifinals, determining the top three;
The morning of the third day, the finals would take place, and a champion would be crowned.
After the contest ended, the Duel Arena would undergo half a day of maintenance, followed by a seven-day adult-level swordsmanship competition. That would be the highlight, the peak of the festivities, when the whole arena would be packed and tickets hard to come by.
However, during the youth finals, King Hu Fu from Pu Aiji would certainly attend, and that would be the opportunity to eliminate the adversary and complete their mission.
While Richard was thinking this, Dela continued to provoke softly, “Kid, when I beat you into calling me ‘daddy,’ I’m going to…”
Richard, without warning, drew his sword swiftly, then stopped.
A gust of wind passed, stirring up a large amount of dust in the arena. Swordsman Dela blinked, slightly stunned, looking at the blade rested against his neck. It took him a moment to realize what had happened—he had lost.
This… this was too quick, wasn’t it? How could this be possible?
The match hadn’t even started, how could he have already lost!
Dela widened his eyes, shouting at Richard, “You cheated! You struck before the time!”
“I didn’t,” Richard said. “I struck the moment the handkerchief touched the ground, which is within the rules.”
“No way, how could you be that fast!” Dela protested, turning to the presenter, trying to call for fairness, “Sir… sir, he cheated, he…”
The presenter was also somewhat stunned, not expecting such a dramatic end to a match, but he was indeed still fair. Glancing at the fallen handkerchief and then at Dela, he declared, “No, he didn’t cheat. He struck after the handkerchief touched the ground, so… you’ve lost.”
“I…” Dela was on the verge of breaking down, looking at Richard. “How… how could you do that?”
“See you another time.” Richard sheathed his sword and turned toward the entrance.
Dela watched Richard’s back, his eyes flashing and teeth gritting, his grip on the broadsword tightening…
At this moment, Dela was filled with unbearable resentment and raging anger, truly wanting to rush up and strike Richard with his sword…
“Uh, goodbye,” Dela said to Richard’s retreating figure, turning to walk to another entrance.