"Wonderful!"

King Robert's scream broke the silence in the audience.

He pointed to the sunken plate armor on the buttocks of the war horse that was lying on the ground, and his voice was loud and loud: "Hunter dog! Can you do it?"

"I...may not..." The hunting dog stood behind the king, his huge body almost hitting the awning above his head.

At this time, the "Hunter" had already taken off the hunting dog helmet, revealing its rotten left face, with only one hole left in its ear; "Maybe Greg can do it."

In fact, the Hunter didn't know whether his monster-like brother could do it. Although the brutal Demon Mountain often splits the war horse into two sections with one sword, it was too exaggerated to knock a strong war horse with flesh and blood.

What's more, the plate armor was deformed.

Who are these people?

The battle on the field continues.

"Gelot, do you look down on me?" Visemill looked at the iron sword in his hand depressedly: "Your body has not fully recovered."

"You use it first. Respecting the elderly and loving the young is a fine tradition of demon hunters."

After saying that, Geralt also rushed to a knight in the distance. He took big steps, and every step he stepped on the ground, a meter high mud and water splashed, and in an instant he rushed to the target.

The knight was suddenly panicked and couldn't help but tighten the reins. The war horse stood upright in pain. Geralt dodged the front hooves, hugged the horse's neck with both hands, and swung the whole body on the back of the horse, kicking the knight off directly.

On the other hand, Lambert and Escar also began to show their skills.

Lambert pulled a knight off the horse's back, and Escar even rushed over the horse's back and knocked a participating knight out of the way.

Bang!

A loud bang came from a corner of the field, and Reso punched the horse on the head. The war horse neighed, staggered for a few steps and then fell to his knees in the mud. The fallen knight struggled to stand up from the mud, and then rolled and crawled out of the ground.

Resor ignored him, but turned around and headed towards the next goal.

So the most ridiculous scene appeared.

In this small field, more than forty horse-riding knights fled around like frightened flocks, followed by four nameless people who were unarmed and inch-armored.

"Don't look down on the old man!" Weismeer glanced at his beloved disciples, then glanced at the scene, preparing to find a target for himself,

But his opponent appeared at the right time.

A tall and fat knight took the initiative to dismount and ran towards Vesmere, as if he had targeted Vesmere, the only sword-holder.

The knight looked ordinary, had loose skin, half of gray hair, and a little worn-out plate armor with a red robe, cursing in words that Visemir couldn't understand.

"It seems that some people really know how to respect the elderly and love the young, unlike some people..." The old witch hunter muttered in his mouth and raised his sword to meet him.

Just as the two of them approached, the red-robed knight suddenly took out a small stone from his sleeve and slashed his sword.

A light green flame instantly emerged from the long sword.

"Ho!" Weissemil was startled and jumped back several meters. Several other witch hunters also turned around and looked over, then looked at the pendant on his chest neatly.

Feeling the wolf-head pendant on his chest still motionless, the old witch hunter frowned and said, "Isn't it magic?"

The red-robed knight could not understand the words of the witch hunter at all. He seemed a little surprised that the other party was not scared, so he waved the Green Flame Sword and attacked directly.

Wisermil smiled and said, "Even if it is real magic, it won't scare the witch hunter, let alone such a ghost trick."

The long sword in his hand slashed out, and the sound of gold and iron fighting spread throughout the audience.

The red-robed knight only felt a huge force transmitted from his hands to his whole body. His long sword seemed to be chopping on the hard mountain wall, and his entire arm was bounced back.

‘What a lot of strength.’ He was shocked. Before he could respond, he was kicked in his stomach and fell to the ground. The burning sword came out of his hand, but the green flames were not extinguished at all and continued to burn quietly on the wet mud.

King Robert in the audience shouted:

"Ha, Soros was killed in an instant!"

He had already stood up at this time, and his whole body was very excited, his black beard was shaking up and down by his rapid breath.

He looked to the other side, and the knights were still chased and ran all over the field. Occasionally, a few of them regained their courage to charge again, but they could only prove that they were not opponents of those foreigners at all.

Robert felt that his blood, which had been quiet for ten years, was boiling again.

"Fuck, bring my warhammer!"

"His Majesty the King!" Ned Stark, not far away, also stood up: "Rob! You can't participate!"

"Balistan! Fuck you, hurry up and get my warhammer!" Robert could no longer listen to anyone's words at this time. He stared at the field with his eyes, waved one hand behind him, but no one answered.

He turned around and found that Balistan, with white hair, was also staring at the fight in the field, as if he had forgotten the duties of the Royal Guard.

"Balistan!"

The king's thunderous scream finally attracted the attention of the Royal Guards. Balistan, who came to his senses, quickly said, "Your Majesty, you cannot participate in the war."

"I am the king!"

"But this is not in line with the rules!" Ned, who was on the side, also squeezed over: "Look at your belly! Whether you can get a warhammer now is a problem!"

"Fuck, Ned! Why do you speak so badly!" A moment of anger flashed across Robert's face, but he quickly calmed down.

His closest comrades always make him shameless, but every time he is a real truth.

The blood that had just been activated calmed down again.

Ned watched Robert sit back in his seat panting, secretly breathed a sigh of relief, and turned to look at the competition venue.

The battle is coming to an end, and most of the knights have been pulled off their horses. They either fled from the field in panic or were knocked unconscious by those people.

These foreigners completely controlled the game with their agility and strength that was far beyond ordinary people. The only old man who used the sword also hit the red-robed monk Soros completely lost his center of gravity with one blow.

Ned's back felt a little cold. Which country in the East is so strong?

Not a Dothraki, obviously not a Ray Islander, was it an Iban?

But no species has yellow cat eyes.

Although my heart was full of doubts, Ned enjoyed this wonderful fight.

He looked at the empty seat beside Sansa.
Chapter completed!