Not Wanting the Championship at All

Sir Rayman was clearly a man of action. As soon as he entered the arena, he began his charge, picking up speed. The long tassel on his helmet fluttered backward with the charge, and the armored cavalry thundered towards Li Ang, bringing with them a chilling sense of pressure.

Li Ang angled his horse and accelerated, dodging Sir Rayman's charge and beginning to circle.

Light armor versus heavy armor; the gap in weight, potential energy, and defense was too vast. A head-on collision would be suicide.

He could only rely on his lighter equipment, less weight, and his horse's agility to constantly evade Sir Rayman's aggressive charges and thrusts.

The two horses began a chase, one fleeing, the other pursuing. When they occasionally crossed paths, their relative speed wasn't too high, and the thrusting long spears were all accurately parried by Li Ang's sword and spear butt.

Li Ang's repeated successful blocks made Sir Rayman realize that this young man possessed superior skill. He needed to increase his speed and charge with full force to overcome technique with power.

Thus, Sir Rayman charged at full speed again and again. A lance at high speed was impossible to block, only to be dodged.

After numerous perilous dodges, Li Ang finally heard Sir Rayman's warhorse begin to pant heavily.

He consciously began to increase the distance between himself and Sir Rayman, lowered his body slightly, and raised his lance, making a challenging gesture towards Sir Rayman.

This was an invitation to a knightly duel!

The stands, which had been filled with boos, finally erupted in applause. It seemed this slippery young man was finally going to face him directly!

Sir Rayman charged head-on again, while Li Ang slightly angled his horse, maintaining a small angle as they charged towards each other.

He wasn't trying to repeat his previous tactic; Sir Rayman's warhorse, clad in heavy armor, wasn't easily breached.

He just wanted to position himself on Sir Rayman's blind side as their horses crossed.

--This was the blind side for both men, who held their lances in their right hands. Holding a lance with the off-hand made it easier to maintain balance; this was the normal way to duel.

But at this moment, Li Ang suddenly bit the sword in his left hand and transferred the lance to his left hand!

He wasn't using a shield, so switching hands was easy...

Moreover, he controlled the horses' paths so they wouldn't be within reach of an off-hand thrust!

It was just that small distance; a true testament to "an inch longer, an inch stronger!"

The expression on Sir Rayman's face was priceless! He hadn't expected his opponent to have such a move. Looking at the stability of the spear tip, it was clear Li Ang was skilled with his left hand as well.

Of course, after all, this 500+ proficiency wasn't divided between left and right hands...

But Sir Rayman was not left-handed; he couldn't fight with his off-hand. He could only try to get his horse as close as possible to Li Ang's path.

However, the warhorse, already exhausted from several rounds of chasing and circling, was no longer as responsive...

And in such a high-speed charge, the two horses closed the distance in an instant.

Li Ang's left-handed lance had already probed outward at an angle.

Sir Rayman knew he couldn't reach Li Ang with an off-hand thrust at this distance. So, he raised his shield with all his might to defend his head, intending to endure the blow.

But to his surprise, the lance didn't hit the shield. Instead, it struck his abdomen, with a distinct upward flick!

"Bang!"

"Crack... crack..."

The sound of the massive lance shattering echoed, followed by the heavy clatter of metal and weapons falling to the ground.

Sir Rayman was knocked off his horse, but the plate armor's defense was indeed impressive. Apart from a slight indentation in his abdomen, there were no other visible external injuries.

The moment the lance shattered, Li Ang released it and dropped it, took the sword from his mouth, and began to turn his horse.

He hadn't aimed for the opponent's fully defended face; his only goal was to knock him off his horse.

Falling off a horse while wearing seventy to eighty pounds of plate armor, a person could almost never remount without help. Moreover, the damage might be even greater than if he had cut the opponent a few times...

Li Ang's equipment was adequate against light armor, but against the plate armor of a Furious Lion Knight, his long sword and wooden spear were essentially just scratching the surface.

Therefore, Sir Rayman, having been knocked off his horse, did not concede.

He groaned as he got up, spat a mouthful of bloody phlegm, took the greatsword from his back, and resumed a fighting stance.

But Li Ang had already circled his horse, leaned down, and with his sword, gently flicked the lance Sir Rayman had dropped into his own hand from a few steps away...

This was clearly premeditated!

Sir Rayman shook his head with a bitter smile and began to cough violently.

After coughing up a mouthful of bloody phlegm, he discarded his greatsword, removed his helmet, and slowly walked out of the arena.

The knight had surrendered!

The entire audience erupted in a clamor. They seemed even more unable to accept this fact than Sir Rayman himself.

This Furious Lion Knight, who was battle-hardened and undefeated, had actually surrendered?

Sir Rayman was a man of discernment. After his opponent had obtained his lance, although he was unwilling, he could only choose to surrender.

Fighting on foot in heavy armor made it difficult to evade a lance charge, not to mention that he had indeed suffered some internal injuries when he fell.

His own heavy lance was not a disposable item that broke with a single thrust like Li Ang's; it was a sturdy battlefield spear. Even wearing the hardest plate armor, a direct hit would be fatal...

The entire arena watched in silence as Sir Rayman walked out. But soon, applause and boos mingled.

Clearly, the spectacle of the underdog winning satisfied the audience, but the lost bets also made them furious...

This seemed to be a final match that left most people rather dissatisfied.

Li Ang, despite winning the championship, wasn't happy at all.

He really didn't want to win.

Because after winning, he would have to reveal his face to everyone. His black hair and black eyes were extremely conspicuous in Pendor, and the Crimson Brotherhood's informants had surely already spotted him.

Besides, there was no prize money for this championship.

Moreover, he had to go to the Noble Court in Lion City, at the center of the continent, to claim the reward for this competition—after registering with the Pioneer Baron Certificate, he could become a Pioneer Lord on probation.

This journey would be over a thousand miles, and it was likely fraught with danger.

Outside the prison cells in the arena's lower levels, the Fat Boss, Andrew, handed a sheepskin scroll to Li Ang.

"Those Meitengheim people are in there. They're not exactly easy to control..."

Li Ang nodded and entered. He desperately needed some warriors right now.

This place was originally used to imprison gladiator slaves, and the thick, heavy doors were incredibly sturdy.

Inside were over a dozen bare-chested men, with an average height of nearly two meters.

Andrew had bought them originally to be the arena's cash cows. Unfortunately, these strong men weren't very obedient. They ate enthusiastically but never did any work.

Andrew sent people to 'teach them a lesson,' but instead, they lost quite a few of their enforcers.

He planned to starve them for a few meals, but these guys ended up eating the lions and alligators in the arena...

Now, it seemed those lions and alligators had provided them with ample nutrition, as they all still looked like burly, muscular brutes.

At this moment, these brutes were gathered together, sitting or standing, looking like a literal mountain of flesh.

If muscle were a sin, then these men were probably all guilty of heinous crimes.