Chapter 41: Victory or Defeat
Yam did not expect that Andre would be so eager to exact his revenge.
He had thought that even if Andre harbored resentment toward him, considering Lady Monica’s birthday banquet, any act of revenge would wait until after the event, perhaps even after they had left Red River City.
But instead, Andre, upon seeing him tonight, had flung his glove without a word, he had even tried to slap it directly across his face.
Yam, however, tilted his head and avoided the glove that Andre “smashed” at him.
Such a movement couldn’t possibly go unnoticed, especially since Andre made no effort to hide his desire for revenge.
He issued a challenge for a duel to the death in a voice so loud, it was as though he wished the entire world could hear it.
In that instant, Yam knew, he could not avoid it.
Now, standing on the open ground outside the banquet hall, he glanced around at the crowd encircling him. In their eyes, he saw excitement, and on their faces, a mysterious flush of red. Suddenly, he felt like a monkey.
A monkey being watched by a crowd.
He turned his gaze back to Andre.
Particularly, to his hands.
His hands were adorned with metallic gauntlets that extended up to his forearms, etched with striking red patterns.
If it hadn’t been for Lily’s guidance, Yam wouldn’t have recognized the mystery behind those gauntlets.
But now he knew, they were not crude weapons. These were refined rare iron weapons infused with the Fire Element, capable of maximizing one’s strength, commonly referred to by Bloodline Users as “refined-grade” weapons.
Silently, Yam drew his longsword.
This knight's sword wasn’t particularly fine, but it was a weapon Giggs had painstakingly procured for him, just like the Eagle Strike Swordsmanship.
Whether it was the rare iron longsword or the Eagle Strike Swordsmanship, neither was powerful in terms of equipment or battle arts.
But they suited Yam perfectly, and they were evidence of Giggs’s sincerity.
At the thought of Giggs, Yam couldn’t help but also think of Lily, a faint smile appearing on his face.
Andre had no idea what Yam was thinking, but he interpreted Yam’s expression as mockery. His inner rage surged even more fiercely. “Have you decided how you want to die?”
“Come on,” Yam raised his head slightly, “I’ve defeated you once. I can defeat you countless times.”
Andre laughed from sheer fury.
But he said no more. Instead, he tapped his left hand lightly with his right fist, then pointed sharply at Yam.
Pre-battle etiquette.
A knight’s duel was a method for Bloodline Knights to “cleanse disgrace.” No matter what it was used for behind the scenes, publicly, it was governed by the principles of fairness, justice, and transparency. Therefore, no surprise attacks were allowed. The duel could only begin after both sides performed the “pre-duel handshake ceremony.”
Yam, holding his sword in his right hand, naturally used his left for the gesture.
Almost the instant Yam completed the formality, Andre was already charging forward.
For a Second-Tier Bloodline User, fifty meters wasn’t a short distance. Even those adept at explosive sprints would give their opponent ample time to react over that span.
Thus, initiating the attack wasn’t necessarily about surprise, it was about seizing and controlling the tempo of the battle.
Yam raised his right hand.
The longsword moved accordingly, and a liquid-like flame began flowing along the blade.
In an instant, the iron sword in Yam’s hand no longer looked like a mere weapon, it resembled a sword forged of pure flame.
Clear, flowing fire. Radiance bursting forth.
The blaze that erupted across the open ground at that moment eclipsed the light from surrounding luminescent stones, bathing the area in brightness like daylight, allowing all spectators to see the change in the environment clearly.
“Clang—”
The clash of metal rang out, sharp and sudden.
Eagle Strike Swordsmanship – Piercing Peck!
Yam advanced using the Arrow Step technique from the Eagle Strike Swordsmanship, thrusting his sword directly at Andre’s face.
Andre’s reaction was just as swift.
His left hand shot forward. Sparks flew from the metallic gauntlet and, in the blink of an eye, transformed into raging flames, a fiery palm. The burning palm of his gauntlet blocked Yam’s sword tip. A faint explosion accompanied by a mild shockwave followed, and the fiery gust knocked Andre’s left hand back slightly, while also deflecting Yam’s sword.
Andre didn’t try to absorb the shock. Instead, he lowered his body, charging toward Yam with renewed momentum.
Lowering his stance helped him narrowly dodge the flying sparks from the clash between flame fist and fire sword.
Then, he clenched his right hand into a fist, flames, transformed from starfire, burst forth instantly. His entire right arm turned into a blazing fire fist.
A punch struck fiercely at Yam’s chest and abdomen.
Raging Overlord Fist!
Yam’s expression shifted slightly.
It was at this moment he suddenly realized that his easy victory over Andre yesterday had indeed involved some luck, more importantly, it was because Andre had underestimated them.
But today, after Andre had adjusted his mindset, the combat technique he now displayed immediately put immense pressure on Yam.
Without any conscious thought, he reacted entirely on instinct, shifting his body slightly to evade the full force of Andre’s punch, while his right hand swung his sword down with power.
Eagle Strike Swordsmanship – Raking Claw!
The sword whistled.
The longsword slashed at Andre’s right forearm, under normal circumstances, such a strike would have been enough to sever his right hand at the wrist, but now it only produced a deafening clash of metal.
Yam finally understood why Andre’s gauntlets were designed to protect the entire forearm.
But in the next instant, an explosion shockwave even fiercer than during Piercing Peck erupted.
The blast, like a storm, sent raging flames swirling violently with the wind, startling the surrounding onlookers into retreat.
They had no idea what was happening in the duel before them!
To them, in the span of two to three seconds, all they saw was Andre suddenly vanish from their sight, followed by a blazing tail like a meteor streaking through the air from Yam’s direction, and then a towering flame whirlwind erupting from the center of the clearing.
No grand battle spectacle, no desperate struggle between life and death, they had seen none of it!
But these spectators, being ordinary people without Bloodlines, quickly noticed the tightly furrowed brows of the Bloodline Users around them, and they realized that the duel’s intensity was simply beyond what ordinary eyes could comprehend, beyond even visibility itself.
Some were gripped by envy and longing, yearning to become Bloodline Users themselves.
But more were struck by a sense of helplessness and fear.
Not far off, Atork and Monica, who were also observing, had eyes that gleamed brightly.
Atork let out a sigh. “To be able to hold his own against Andre’s Raging Overlord Fist using only Eagle Strike Swordsmanship, that’s truly remarkable!”
“Yam’s Eagle Strike Swordsmanship is so refined, it’s practically instinctual,” Monica said softly. “What a shame.”
“It really is,” Atork shook his head.
Some among the crowd understood what had just transpired; others did not. But whether they understood or not, none asked what was meant by “what a shame.”
Though Eagle Strike Swordsmanship was a fairly good mid-tier battle art, its three sword techniques, Piercing Peck, Raking Claw, Spreading Wings, were essentially just a thrust, a downward slash, and a horizontal sweep. It was only through the accompanying techniques, Arrow Step Piercing Peck, Glide Step Spreading Wings, and Stride Raking Claw, derived from Eagle Strike Step, that it gained a touch more power.
But the Raging Overlord Fist, passed down by the Billy Family, was already approaching the threshold of high-tier battle arts.
Giggs, due to his family’s lack of heritage, had no understanding of what constituted a high-tier battle art, but such knowledge was not unfamiliar to Atork or Monica.
The superiority of high-tier battle arts over mid-tier ones lay in the presence of “Secret Arts.”
Raging Overlord Fist wasn’t yet a true high-tier battle art only because its Secret Art was still incomplete. It wasn’t fully a Secret Art. But it could still boost the user’s speed and power significantly and even trigger strong explosive shockwaves. This was indeed brushing the edge of a “Secret Art.”
Just like the towering flame whirlwind now raging at the center of the clearing.
It was the “Secret Art Effect” of Raging Overlord Fist stirring the air.
At this moment, the blinding flame whirlwind obscured everyone’s view, none could see what was happening within. They could only hear faint sounds of weapons clashing, signaling that the fight had yet to be decided. And so all eyes remained fixed in eager anticipation.
But at that very moment, two people had already stopped waiting for the result.
Viscount Agley turned his head to glance at Marquis Visen, only to find the other man already staring back, his gaze deep, and tinged with a venomous edge.
A heavy feeling suddenly weighed down Viscount Agley’s heart.
“Ah—”
Just then, a startled cry erupted from the spectators below, once again drawing the eyes of Viscount Agley and Marquis Visen.
……
Flames burst apart with the raging wind, scattering into countless sparks that fell like a fiery rain from the sky.
Yam was flung backward from within the blaze.
Yet his movements were exceptionally agile. Even while still airborne, he adjusted his posture.
At the moment he landed, he immediately drove his longsword into the ground to increase friction and slow his momentum.
Even so, he still slid back nearly twenty meters before finally coming to a stop, whereupon he spat out a mouthful of blood.
His entire demeanor immediately became weakened and sluggish, his body staggering into a half-kneeling position.
On the other side, at the center of the dissipating flames, Andre still stood in place. His posture remained upright, and his left hand was wreathed in flames, making it appear as though he had not sustained any serious injuries, if one ignored the fact that his right hand was clutching the right side of his neck.
"Brother!" Akar rushed out, trying to support Yam.
"Stand down!" But Yam did not allow Akar to reach him. A loud shout halted Akar in his tracks.
Akar stopped unwillingly, but his gaze toward Andre was filled with resentment.
Yam ignored the others around him and forced himself to stand. Slowly, he said, "Let’s end it here."
Andre’s breathing became more rapid, and his eyes reddened.
The flames on his left arm suddenly burned more fiercely. Anyone could tell that he was even angrier now.
But soon, the flames on Andre’s left arm dissipated.
He glared hatefully at Yam, who looked as though a mere gust of wind could topple him. After taking a deep breath, he turned around without hesitation and left.
The crowd erupted in astonishment.
They never expected this outcome!
Yam looked seriously wounded and clearly seemed to have lost. So why was it Andre who turned and left?
Who had won?
Was it Yam?
But wasn’t this supposed to be a duel to the death?
Why was no one dead?
Almost no one could understand what they had just witnessed.
But there are always exceptions.
"That really surprised me," Atork exclaimed without hiding his astonishment. "Andre’s neck was injured, wasn’t it? So Yam held back?"
Monica stared coldly at the retreating figure of Andre, who looked like a defeated dog, then turned to glance at Yam.
Her gaze at Yam now finally shed its earlier cold indifference, no longer treating him like a mere tool, but now tinged with new light. "Only those two know what really happened just now. But judging from the outcome, Yam definitely held back. Andre must’ve nearly died."
"Looks like we all misjudged him."
Misjudged?
A faint, ambiguous smile appeared on Monica’s face. "Yes, we misjudged him."
...
"Seems your luck isn't so good," Marquis Visen said, not bothering to look at the agent beside him, his light tone carrying an unmistakable authority. "Don’t forget our wager."
The agent’s mouth turned bitter.
But what could he say?
He could only bow respectfully. "Yes. It seems I misjudged him."
"Indeed," Marquis Visen nodded. "Everyone misjudged him."