Ring of Order The door of the preparation room is very thick, made of oak, and covered with a layer of iron.
This is a special instruction from Corleone. Every Warrior who is about to take the field needs a quiet place to adjust his breathing, check his weapons, and face the upcoming duel of life and death.
At this time, the hunting dog was sitting on a simple bench, holding a piece of suede in his hand and wiping the blade of his sword.
The sword was very ordinary, not made by a famous craftsman, and it had no decoration.
There are several small nicks on the sword, which are traces of years of fighting. The leather wrapped around Gauntlet has been worn and shiny.
But for the hound, this sword is everything to him. It is more reliable than any Valyria steel, because it has been with him for twenty years. Even though the little wolf from the Stark family stole all his money, he did not steal it.
Sunlight slanted in from the high window, casting a bright spot on the sword.
The hunting dog wiped it carefully, once, again, and again. Every time he wiped it, the blade would reflect half of his severely burned face.
The scar tissue extends from the forehead to the chin, and the skin is wrinkled and twisted, showing a horrific texture of burnt black and dark red.
One side of his nose was sunken, his lips were crooked, and his eyes were staring at his reflection on the sword blade, burning with long-suppressed anger.
He didn't look away because he never avoided his face.
I still remember that year, he was seven years old.
In the blink of an eye, more than 20 years have passed, almost thirty years.
Countless times in his dreams, he cut the monster into pieces, imagined his sword piercing his chest, watched his blood gush out from the wound, and watched him kneel in front of him begging for mercy.
But he never had the chance.
Because the Mountain is a lackey of the Lannister family and Lord Tywin's most trusted executioner.
And he is just a "hunting dog".
A dog that only bites people will never be qualified to be on an equal footing with Lion.
It's not that the hunting dog doesn't know that Corleone is taking advantage of him.
That guy needs someone to replace Oberyn, maintain the popularity of Fighting Arena, and protect the hundreds of thousands of Gold Dragon bets.
And he happened to be that person.
A man who has a blood feud with the Magic Mountain, is desperate for his life, and happens to be extremely poor.
But so what?
The hound turned the blade over and continued to wipe it.
He is already in his thirties.
In this life, he has killed many people, protected some people, and hated countless people.
But he never really lived for himself.
Now, he finally has a chance, a chance to make money and take revenge.
An opportunity to both be exploited and to exploit others.
If he wins, he can get a lot of money, and more importantly, he can kill the Mountain with his own hands, the monster that ruined his life.
If he loses... a sneer appears on the corner of the hunting dog's mouth.
If you lose, you lose.
This life is not worth anything anyway.
With a smile, the hunting dog suddenly raised his head and looked at the closed door.
There was a faint noise outside, it was the crowd cheering.
They are waiting for themselves.
But the hunting dogs also know that what they are waiting for is not entirely them.
What those people are waiting for is blood, violence and... death.
They don't care who wins or loses, they only care about whether it looks good or not.
It doesn't matter, he doesn't care.
He only needed a chance to pierce the sword into Mo Shan's body, and that was enough.
After wiping it for a long time, the hunting dog finally put the sword back into its scabbard, stood up, and stretched his shoulders.
He was wearing the black plate armor that had been with him for many years. It was badly worn and had dents in several places that had not been repaired.
The helmet was in the iconic shape of a dog's head. It was placed on the stool next to him, with its empty eye sockets facing him.
He looked at the dog head and suddenly thought of Joffrey, the boy who had arrogantly asked him to kneel on the ground wearing this and learn how to bark.
He learned, of course... He stood up and used threats, scaring Joffrey so much that he almost peed his pants.
Damn it, why do you think of that disgusting boy... What a bad luck.
The hunting dog quickly shook off those thoughts, picked up the helmet, and tucked it under his arm.
It should be almost time.
He took a deep breath and prepared to open the door and go out.
At this moment, a burst of cheers like a mountain roar and a tsunami came from outside.
The sound was so loud that even the thick oak door couldn't block it, it penetrated directly and made his ears buzz.
The hunting dog was stunned.
Is it my turn to play?
He frowned, no, if he were to play, someone should notify him.
According to the regulations, wasn't it the attendant's duty to take him out, through a specific passage, and into the sand?
The hunting dog frowned and waited for a few seconds.
The cheers continued, one wave after another, more violent than before.
He couldn't bear it anymore.
He picked up his sword, walked to the door with his helmet under his arm, and prepared to open the door.
I stepped on something under my feet.
He looked down.
It was a Booklet with a leather cover, which was randomly discarded on the ground, with dark red wine stains printed on the cover.
That was sent to him by Corleone.
It is said that it is a document compiled by a certain bachelor, which records in detail the fighting habits, possible weaknesses, and physiological structure speculation of the Demon Mountain.
But the hunting dog didn't even look at it.
Because he doesn't need any information, analysis, tactics... such nonsense.
He grew up with the Magic Mountain and knew the monster better than anyone else. His strength, speed, and weaknesses had all been engraved in his mind for more than twenty years.
He kicked the Booklet away with disdain, and the hound opened the door, revealing that the corridor was empty.
No attendants, no guards, no one.
There were only cheers coming from afar, one after another, causing the walls to tremble slightly.
He walked forward quickly.
At the end of the corridor is a small door leading to the stands. Usually, the participating Warrior walks out from here to greet the cheers of the audience.
But at this moment, the small door is closed tightly.
The hunting dog continued to walk forward, turned a corner, and finally saw a person.
It's a few attendants.
They were running through the corridor in a panic, with expressions on their faces that were both excited and nervous, as if something big had happened.
"Hey!"
The hunting dog shouted.
The attendants did not look back and continued to run forward.
The hunting dog took three steps at a time to catch up, and grabbed the back collar of the last person.
"I'm fucking calling you."
The man was staggered and almost fell. He instinctively turned around and wanted to curse, but when that face came into view, his curse was stuck in his throat.
"You... you..."
The attendant stammered and was speechless.
The hound let go of his collar and pulled him in front of him.
"What's going on outside? Why is it so noisy?"
The attendant swallowed and tried to calm down.
"You... don't you know?"
"What do you know?" The hunting dog frowned.
Upon hearing this, the attendant's eyes flashed with excitement, as if he was sharing some great news.
"Lyn·Corbray Ser!" He said loudly, "The first knight of the valley, Lyn·Corbray, he challenges Vito·Ser Corleone in public!"
"What?" The hunting dog frowned even more tightly.
Seeing that he didn't hear clearly, the attendant repeated it again, louder and more excited.
"Lyn Corbray! He is the man who killed the Kingsguard on Trident. He challenged Ser Corleone in front of everyone, and Ser Corleone accepted!"
"They are already on the sand now! A fight is about to begin. If you don't look around, it might be too late!"
As soon as these words came out, the hunting dog was stunned.
Lyn Corbray?
He has heard of this name.
Vale men, it is said that his swordsmanship is very good, he is the real top Warrior.
But later on, he rarely participated in martial arts tournaments, and the hunting dog never had a chance to fight with that person.
And Corleone... actually accepted it?
The hunting dog loosened the collar of the attendant in a daze, and the man turned around and ran away, rushing towards the stand with the others.
The corridor became quiet again, and only Hound Dog was left.
He stood there with the sword in his hand and the dog-headed helmet under his arm.
What is he here for?
It's to wait for the Magic Mountain, to take revenge, and then make a lot of money.
But what about now?
Corleone is going to fight someone else.
And a true swordsman, a man who has killed the Kingsguard.
If Corleone loses, he or she even dies.
Then who did he ask for money from?
Will he still fight the duel with the Magic Mountain?
The hunting dog's brows knitted into a knot, suddenly realizing this serious problem.
If Corleone died on that sand, Ring of Order would be finished, and so would the bet of three hundred thousand Gold Dragon.
And could he, a wanted fugitive, stand here and wait for the Magic Mountain to come out?
Are you afraid that you will be kicked out directly?
Thinking of this, the hunting dog took a deep breath and found that he was actually worried about that Farmer.
He quickly grasped the hilt of his sword and strode towards the stands.
He wanted to see if Farmer, who was said to have defeated the Magic Mountain, could defeat the First Knight of the Valley.
All the way forward, I pushed open the small door leading to the stands. The sunlight pierced my eyes, causing the hunting dog to squint instinctively.
Then, he heard the cheers of the mountain roaring like a tsunami, rushing towards him, almost knocking him down.
Two thousand five hundred people were shouting at the same time.
"Ser Corleone!"
"Lyn·Corbray Ser!"
"Fight! Fight!"
The sound was so crazy and intense that it almost knocked the roof off the entire Fighting Arena.
The hunting dog stood at the entrance of the passage, raising his hands to block the sun, and looked towards the sand after adjusting to the light.
I saw two people standing in the center of the circular sand.
A man was wearing pure black armor, which reflected a dull luster in the sunlight. There was a black hand stretched toward the sky printed on the gray cloak behind him.
It should be Corleone.
The hounds had seen him several times, but had never seen him wearing armor.
At this moment, the black armor was wrapped around his body, making his shoulders straight and his waist tight, making his whole figure look like an unsheathed sword.
He held a sword in his hand, with an ordinary blade and an ordinary light shining in the sun.
Another man stood at the other end of the sand.
The man wore dark blue full-body plate armor with exquisite patterns carved on the armor. The shoulder armor was cast in the shape of an eagle's claws, and the coat of arms of the Corbray family was engraved on the chest - three flying crows on a white background, each holding a blood-red heart under its claws.
The sunlight shines on his armor, reflecting a blue luster that is so gorgeous and dazzling.
The sword he held in his hand was completely black, with a unique ripple pattern flowing on its body, sparkling in the sunlight, and it was breathtakingly beautiful.
The hunting dog stared at the sword and narrowed his eyes slightly.
He knew what it was.
It is said that a Valyria steel sword can easily cut off ordinary weapons, but the sword in Corleone's hand is like a Wooden Club in front of that sword.
He actually agreed to this duel?
The hunting dog couldn't help but shook his head.
Crazy.
All fucking crazy.
He leaned against the wall at the entrance of the passage, threw his helmet on the ground, crossed his arms, and prepared to watch the duel.
It's not his turn to play now anyway.
Moreover, he also wanted to know whether Corleone was as powerful as the legend said.
Then take a look.
On the sand, two people stood facing each other.
The sun shone on them, casting long shadows on the ground.
Lyn Corbray is holding Lady Kongji, the tip of his sword pointed diagonally at the ground, his breathing is very steady, even calmer than when he faced Lewin Martell on the battlefield.
Yes, he actually agreed, betting on this sword, the glory of the Corbray family, and the reputation he had spent his whole life building.
But he had no retreat.
Maybe at first, he came for the benefits licensed by Tywin Lannis, but when Corleone appeared in front of thousands of people
When you ask yourself if you dare to risk everything, Lyn has no way out.
Now he is no longer Tywin's pawn.
But it was himself, Lyn Corbray, the First Knight of the Valley.
If he backed down at this moment, if he faced a knight from Farmer in front of 2,500 people, he wouldn't even have the courage to risk everything.
Then he will become a coward and a joke that will be circulated in people's mouth forever.
He can't do that.
He would rather lose this sword, he would rather lose everything, than lose his dignity.
And... he knows he can't lose.
Lyn grasped the hilt of the sword tightly, feeling the familiar touch from Ms. Kongji. This sword had been with him for twenty years, and it knew what he was going to do, better than himself.
With it in hand, he won't lose.
Of course, Lyn is not at a loss either.
Because just now, he asked Corleone to take out one hundred thousand Gold Dragon as a bet, and the other party readily agreed.
One hundred thousand Gold Dragon bet against a Valyria steel sword.
Very fair.
Taking a deep breath, Lyn raised his sword and pointed at Corleone.
The sun shines on the black sword body, and those corrugated lines flow in the sun, as if they are alive.
He looked at the ordinary sword in Corleone's hand.
No, maybe not ordinary.
Lyn It can be seen that this sword is forged from fine steel, sharp and tough, and is already at the top of the craftsmanship of the Seven Kingdoms.
But compared to Ms. Kongji... that's just a piece of Mortal Iron.
Lyn looked at the sword, the sneer at the corner of his mouth deepened, and his voice was full of contempt. "That's the one you plan to use?"
"My sword is Valyria steel, do you know what this means?"
He paused and raised Ms. Kongji to let the sunlight shine on the sword better. "It only takes a few collisions and your sword will be broken into two pieces."
"Then what? What are you doing to stop me?"
His voice became louder and more confident. "You have no chance of winning, Vito·Corleone!"
... No chance of winning."
As soon as these words came out, the whole place fell silent, and everyone looked at Corleone.
However, in the pure black armor, Corleone just smiled slightly, "Of course I know how sharp Valyria steel is, Lyn Corbray, it can easily cut through ordinary weapons, otherwise I wouldn't bet you one hundred thousand Gold Dragon."
He paused and his eyes fell on the black sword.
"It's a good sword, a very good sword."
"But you know what?"
Corleone danced like a sword and looked into Lyn's eyes. The black eyes under the helmet were so deep that they seemed to suck people in.
"The reason why all proud knights are excited and looking forward to the journey of the joust is because its results are unpredictable. After all... it is people using swords."
"Not the sword but the man."