The Great Bear in Exile

Elsewhere, Janice took charge of the other encircled galley.

After nearly two months of training, the timidity in the girl's eyes had given way to resolve.

The physical transformation of a Flame Knight had granted her strength and reflexes beyond those of ordinary people.

Though her swordsmanship fell far short of her sister's exquisite skill, her speed and strength were enough to make up for it.

She wore fitted Valyrian steel light armor and gripped her sword tightly, her small face tense but showing no hesitation.

Seeing a beautiful young girl charging at the very front, several pirates sneered and rushed her with wild cries.

"You're asking for death!" Janice silently recited her sister's teachings. Moving as nimbly as a cat, she sidestepped an incoming shortsword and swept her own blade down in a vicious cut.

"Aaargh!" The pirate in the lead clutched his wrist and screamed. His severed hand fell to the deck along with his shortsword, blood spraying from the stump.

Another pirate attacked from the side. Unable to turn in time, Janice simply ducked and lashed out with a sweeping kick. Fueled by a Flame Knight's strength, her leg struck like a steel whip.

Crack! Bone snapped. The pirate's lower leg broke under the blow, and he tumbled to the deck, screaming.

A third pirate swung an axe at her. Rather than retreat, Janice stepped forward, her sword darting like a venomous snake to pierce the joint of his axe-wielding elbow.

His arm went numb and the axe slipped from his grasp. Janice followed through with a kick that sent him flying.

Whenever pirates tried to surround her, she swiftly fell back into the tight formation of Dragon Spirit Guardians behind her.

With the Dragon Spirit Guardians silently protecting her and finishing off her opponents, Janice was like a young dragon testing her claws for the first time. She was still inexperienced, but her claws and fangs were already sharp enough.

Resistance aboard the second galley under her charge quickly collapsed as well.

The pirates aboard the other two ships watched their comrades being slaughtered like helpless lambs. Jelena's inhuman prowess and the Dragon Spirit Guardians' silent, efficient killing in particular left them utterly terrified.

Seeing that the enemy's Great Ship had cut off their escape and that the boarding action was nothing more than a one-sided massacre, the pirate leader threw down his weapon without hesitation. He raised both hands and screamed, "We surrender! We surrender! Stop killing us!"

On the merchant ship's deck, the distant battle cries and screams seemed to fade into background noise.

Liu Qian's gaze remained fixed on the burly man before him.

Jelena and the others could cut through those pirates with ease. What he needed to do now was make this defiant man pay for daring to ram his fleet.

At the same time, this was the perfect opportunity to test his control over his strength and the progress of his martial skills.

Liu Qian gave a low shout. The deck seemed to shudder beneath his feet as he shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, his rune-covered Valyrian steel sword slashing straight at the burly man's head.

The man's pupils contracted sharply.

This speed and strength far exceeded his expectations.

He dared not hesitate. Instincts honed through years of life-and-death combat drove him into an exquisitely executed sidestep. At the same time, he flicked his wrist, thrusting his longsword swiftly and precisely at the tendons of Liu Qian's sword hand.

By attacking a point his opponent had to defend, he forced a change of move. That counterattack revealed the seasoned cunning of a veteran of countless battles.

Liu Qian silently admired the move, his suspicion about the man's identity becoming a little clearer.

He forcibly checked the savage momentum of his slash. His wrist twisted with a serpent's uncanny suppleness, and his Valyrian steel sword traced a devious arc, knocking aside the incoming point with a precise clang.

A tremendous shock traveled through the man's weapon. His arm shuddered violently and the web of his hand went numb. He staggered back three steps before regaining his balance, the horror in his eyes deepening.

This boy's strength was simply inhuman.

Liu Qian pressed his advantage, unleashing an unbroken tide of sword attacks.

He no longer relied solely on brute force, but began trying to weave the refined sword techniques Jelena had taught him into his overwhelming strength.

The Valyrian steel sword became a lethal storm of blades in his hands. The perfect combination of speed and power made every stroke whistle with the promise of death.

The burly man, meanwhile, pushed the practical fighting skills he had learned over a lifetime to their limits.

Knowing that his strength was far inferior, he stopped meeting the blows head-on. Instead, he relied on masterful footwork and techniques that redirected force, holding out stubbornly like a reef amid raging waves.

He moved nimbly, evading Liu Qian's heavy blows by the narrowest of margins.

His longsword clung to or guided the opposing blade, using its spine to deftly divert the immense force. In the tiny gaps between Liu Qian's moves, he launched lightning-fast counterattacks, each aimed at a vital point, forcing Liu Qian to defend himself.

His swordsmanship discarded all ornamentation. Simple and lethal, it was a means of survival forged through countless struggles amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!

The rapid, piercing clash of steel erupted across the merchant ship's deck like popping beans, sending sparks flying!

Their figures flashed like lightning amid swirling swordlight. As they twisted, dodged, and shifted, they had already exchanged dozens of fierce blows.

Liu Qian held an overwhelming advantage in strength and speed, but the man's battle-tempered experience and exquisitely precise technique allowed him to find a way out of one desperate situation after another. Several times, he nearly exploited the slight lapses in control caused by Liu Qian's sudden increase in strength to land a counterattack.

The longer Liu Qian fought, the more astonished he became by the man's martial prowess and wealth of combat experience-and the more exhilarated he felt.

Under the pressure of such intense real combat, he could feel his control over his newfound strength, along with his understanding and integration of sword techniques, becoming smoother and more refined at an unprecedented pace.

Finally, after a fierce clash of weapons, Liu Qian keenly caught an almost imperceptible delay in the man's movements as the prolonged fight began to wear him down.

His eyes flashed. Abandoning intricate variations, he poured every ounce of his strength into his arms.

The Valyrian steel sword tore through the air like a raging dragon breaking free of its chains, driving straight toward the center of the man's chest with unstoppable force.

The man's face instantly went deathly pale. He felt the threat of death.

Though he wore a breastplate, it was as fragile as paper before a Valyrian steel sword.

He instinctively raised his sword across his body, trying to block the devastating thrust.

But-

Crack!!!

A sharp, teeth-grating snap rang out.

The fine steel longsword that had accompanied the man through years of battle broke outright the instant it met the Valyrian steel sword.

The dark blade slowed slightly, but still drove toward his heart with unmatched sharpness and force.

Life and death hung by a thread!

The man's survival instinct erupted like that of a wild beast. He threw his body backward as far as he could while pushing off the deck with all his might, hurtling back as though dragged by an immense force.

Riiip!

The peerlessly sharp point tore through his breastplate and, across the thick, knotted muscle of his left chest,

plowed a bloody furrow.

Hot blood spurted like a fountain, instantly staining his torn leather armor and the deck beneath him.

"Argh!" The man let out a pained groan and staggered back seven or eight steps. Only when his back slammed into the gunwale did he manage to stop.

Agony made the veins bulge on his forehead. Cold sweat streamed down his face, and his breath rasped like a bellows.

The broken sword hung limply in his hand, blood dripping down its hilt.

Liu Qian did not pursue him. With a flick of his wrist, he angled his bloodstained Valyrian steel sword toward the deck, crimson droplets slowly falling from its tip.

He coldly watched his opponent tremble from blood loss and pain, his voice as biting as an icy wind:

"Now am I entitled to demand your name? Or do the warriors of Westeros prefer to remain nameless?"

Liu Qian's words revealed where the man came from.

The man stared hard at Liu Qian's youthful face, then lowered his gaze to the wound on his chest that would not stop bleeding and the longsword lying in two pieces on the deck-the sword that had symbolized half a lifetime of war.

After the tremendous shock, an indescribable mixture of emotions welled up within him.

Bitterness, helplessness, defeat, and even a trace of relief at having met a worthy opponent.

He drew a deep breath and endured the searing pain, mustering all his strength to straighten his battered back, broad and powerful as a brown bear's.

Though blood loss had left his face pale, the pride of a warrior of the North, the pride of House Mormont, blazed anew in his gloomy eyes like a roaring fire.

"Jorah Mormont."

In a low voice, he spoke the name that had once been glorious but was now tarnished. "Former Earl of Bear Island. Now an exiled knight."

He met Liu Qian's gaze squarely and said, one word at a time, "You won, boy."