My Dinars

"Invincible is so... so lonely..."

Seeing that everything was going smoothly, Li Ang hummed a tune as he went downstairs. The semifinals were about to begin.

The format for the semifinals was foot combat, with two-handed swords.

On one hand, this would increase the spectacle. On the other hand, the Fat Boss probably considered Foucher's clumsy horsemanship and lack of strength, which were clearly unsuitable for lance duels.

As Li Ang had said, what if he fell off his horse?

But unexpectedly, this semifinal, which everyone thought would be uneventful, encountered a problem.

Foucher initially appeared brave, charging forward with his two-handed sword and slashing wildly. Li Ang, as expected, parried left and right, putting on a show of being steadily pushed back.

However, it so happened that a hole dug by the horse Li Ang had speared in the previous match caused Foucher to misstep and twist his ankle as he fell.

Even more coincidentally, Foucher was in the middle of a full-power swing when he stepped into the hole. Not only Li Ang, but even the spectators sitting closer to the edge of the arena heard a crisp "crack."

Then, Foucher dropped his sword and cried out in pain, clutching his foot...

At this point, it didn't matter how fake Li Ang's loss would have been, because the only weapon allowed in this match was the two-handed sword.

And in any fight or competition, dropping all weapons meant only one thing: surrender.

The entire audience, including the Duke and the Fat Boss in the VIP box, as well as Li Ang himself, remained motionless, staring at the bizarre scene in stunned silence.

It wasn't until the attendants entered the arena and carried away the incapacitated Foucher that the Fat Boss, with a troubled expression, announced Li Ang's advancement.

"My Dinars..."

Li Ang felt no joy of victory. A mournful cry escaped his lips that would chill even a demon. He felt countless small coins sprouting wings and flying away from him, along with Alice, soaring into the distance.

"Alas, you can't be blamed for this... Who could have predicted such a thing..." The Fat Boss was also dejected. As the organizer, he would clearly lose a lot of money and also bear Duke Alma's wrath.

Fortunately, Duke Alma was a Duke of the Lionheart Kingdom and wouldn't decide the fate of a Fieltzwe merchant like him.

"If I win the championship, can I return the Pioneer Baron certificate to Duke Alma?" Li Ang considered how not to anger a powerful Grand Duke.

The Fat Boss shook his head, "This is an award issued by the Noble Council on behalf of the King. How could it be casually given to someone else? Besides, Foucher's leg is broken. A cripple gaining a Pioneer certificate is meaningless, and Duke Alma has already left."

Li Ang shook his head and looked at the Fat Boss, "Forget it. Bet on me to win the championship... Bet as much as you can!"

The Fat Boss stared at Li Ang, "Your opponent in the finals is Lord Rayman of the Lionheart Kingdom, the renowned Furious Lion Knight on the continent! Now that the agreement with Young Master Foucher is gone, Sir Rayman will definitely go all out... and..."

"And what?"

The Fat Boss sighed heavily, "Duke Alma has requested that the finals be changed to an armored duel, using our own equipment. Your skills are undeniable, but the Furious Lion Knight's equipment is far superior to yours... This isn't a competition, it's a battle. You might even be killed."

Li Ang gritted his teeth. He thought about the lost money. If he didn't win this match, all his previous bets – his entire savings – would vanish.

Moreover, given the habits of these nobles, as long as the objective wasn't achieved, he would already be considered a sinner.

Considering the ill temper of that illegitimate son, he had likely already incurred his wrath.

Duke Alma himself probably wouldn't intervene personally, but those sycophants trying to curry favor with the Duke would definitely find ways to kill him!

And Duke Alma's demand for an armored duel was clearly an attempt to take his life...

Therefore, his only option now was to win the championship!

He needed to obtain the Pioneer Baron certificate and then quickly flee to Lion City to complete the registration and gain the status of Pioneer Lord before the danger arrived.

The status of a reserve baron could shield him from overt threats. Nobles wouldn't kill each other openly; they would resort to underhanded tactics.

As for the hidden threats... he would deal with them later. While the path ahead might not be clear, he needed to overcome the immediate obstacle first.

"Do you really want to bet on yourself winning?" The Fat Boss felt he needed to re-evaluate this young man.

Li Ang nodded, "I can still come up with 500 Dinars. My odds should be quite high this time, right?"

The Fat Boss nodded, "Five to one. Not many people are optimistic about you... Li Ang, win or lose, you have to leave here. Be careful on your journey."

Li Ang gave the Fat Boss a deep look and then hugged his plump belly. "Thank you for taking care of me for the past six months, Andrew. In return, I should help you solve some problems... If I win, all the winnings are yours. You give me that group of Meitengheim prisoners and Alice, and I'll consider it a purchase."

"...Those guys are legitimate Meitengheim swordsmen! Their value is far greater than this amount of money!"

The Fat Boss was clearly displeased.

"But you can't control those Meitengheim people, can you? Rather than letting them be idle and waste food, it's better to sell them to me."

Those swordsmen from Meitengheim were quite formidable. When a dozen or so of them gathered together, Boss Andrew had no way to deal with them. These individuals were captured after being attacked by pirates at sea and falling overboard. They didn't fear death, and after being sold to the arena, they refused to do anything.

As a result, Boss Andrew could only watch these strong men lie around and slack off all day. If he didn't feed them, they would cause trouble. The arena couldn't handle these people for the time being, and quite a few people had been lost in the process.

"Alright... I hope you can win."

Andrew thought for a moment, hesitated, and finally agreed.

The horn for the finals sounded, and Li Ang once again donned his chainmail coif.

He was wearing a decent set of light chainmail, which he had acquired a month ago in exchange for a profitable loss.

In his left hand, he held an old knight's longsword – the heirloom of his deceased father. The crest on the hilt was worn smooth.

However, he was not carrying a shield. In his right hand, he held a common, elongated lance.

His mount was an ordinary black travel horse.

His opponent, Sir Rayman, was clad in gleaming plate armor. The Lion Knight Order's full set of equipment was far beyond that of an ordinary warrior, and a long red plume on his helmet marked him as a knight who had never known defeat.

The Furious Lion Steel Shield and heavy lance in his hands exuded immense deterrence, and a silver-plated greatsword was strapped to his back. Just looking at him, one could sense a bloodthirsty aura.

The horse was also heavily armored, covering its entire body. The Furious Lion crests on its barding and caparison seemed to writhe menacingly, inspiring awe.

The difference in equipment was too great. By all appearances, this would be a one-sided match.

But Li Ang didn't feel he had no chance of winning.

Because—beneath the lance, all are equal!