The spectators' cries had already been shut out by the two combatants.
In their eyes, only their opponent remained.
And the conviction burning in their hearts was a thirst for victory!
At Mayor Meng Lu's whistle, both sides entered combat stance! Without the slightest hesitation, they charged straight at each other!
A clatter of metal rang out—the first clash between the knight's rapier and the hooked sickle.
Over the time that followed, the sound continued without pause. Like a War Horn beating out a steady rhythm, it slowly drove everyone's emotions to their peak!
Tulas delivered a feast for the eyes. Just as the others had said, his movements were dashing and uninhibited. Even with every ounce of his focus raised to its limit, Tulas had not abandoned the flashy aesthetics of combat.
What Sabel brought, however, was a plain, unadorned knightly thrusting style, devoid of any fireworks. Yet this seemingly simple swordsmanship did not fall behind in the slightest when faced with Tulas's fierce, driving assault.
As they traded blows, neither gained the upper hand.
In terms of combat style, Tulas's moves were broad and forceful, while Sabel was almost entirely on the defensive. But that did not mean Sabel was weaker; it was simply his natural style.
Tulas was like a violent wind sweeping through the land, while Sabel was a deeply rooted tree standing firm and unmoving. In the short term, neither could do anything to the other.
In terms of skill, however, Angel was somewhat surprised to find that Sabel, not Tulas, held the edge. Though Sabel remained on the defensive and barely moved, he seemed to have drawn a "circle" upon the ground with the knight's rapier in his hand. Within that circle, Sabel was an uncrowned king. No matter what tricks Tulas used,