Chapter 20 Group Competition

Gavin glanced around and quickly noticed the Hightower family across from him.

The man holding the gun and flag was a tall soldier, flanked by four others who faintly protected him. They all wore fine plate armor.

As though sensing something, the man with the gun-flag turned and met Gavin's gaze through the crowd. In that instant, their eyes locked, and an invisible spark seemed to fly between them.

The referee slowly rode to the center of the field and announced the rules in a loud voice, but no one on the field seemed interested in listening. Tension gripped the air, and the heavy atmosphere made it almost impossible to breathe.

Afterward, the referee rode off the field, gradually disappearing into the distance. The tension intensified, like an invisible net tightening around everyone. The moment he was completely out of sight, the official horn of the competition sounded, igniting the flames of war.

Several closely allied families began to move toward each other cautiously, hoping to strengthen their forces to protect themselves and eliminate other opponents in this fierce competition.

When the other, relatively weaker teams saw this, they understood that they had to prevent the formation of such alliances. Without hesitation, they launched attacks. Teams farther away also pounced on those they thought they could defeat.

A team on Gavin's left suddenly attacked. Gavin saw a fierce warrior holding a spear, aiming it straight at him like a poisonous snake striking. The sharp whoosh of the spear made it clear that the intent was to kill Gavin with a single blow.

However, before the three gladiators could react to the surprise attack, Gavin had already moved with incredible speed. In an instant, he flashed forward, his spear slicing through the air like a dragon emerging from the sea, knocking the opponent's helmet off with deadly accuracy.

Without a moment's hesitation, Gavin swung his arm, and the spear hit the enemy with thunderous force, knocking the man unconscious before he could even scream. The three gladiators immediately launched their own attacks, charging at the opposing team.

Gavin didn't hesitate. He rushed into the fray with astounding speed. His movements were fast and brutal. The spear in his hands stabbed, picked, swept, and slashed, each move packed with immense power. In the blink of an eye, his opponents were knocked to the ground, defeated with clinical precision.

Those who fell groaned in pain, some fainting immediately. The surrounding area was left in chaos. Teams that had been nearby and witnessed Gavin's skill quickly moved away, fearful of becoming his next target.

The melee was now in full force. The air was filled with the deafening sounds of battle—the clash of weapons, the shouts of combatants, and the roars of triumph and defeat.

Seeing that no one was advancing on them, Gavin and his team opted to wait for an opportunity, standing quietly at the edge of the battle and observing the ongoing chaos.

The Hightowers, however, did not join the fray. They immediately formed a defensive formation, with numerous allies positioned behind, to the left, and to the right. Although the teams weren't closely clustered, they had a mutual understanding, blocking each other's backs from sneak attacks and creating a relatively stable defensive perimeter.

Slowly, the situation on the field settled into a stalemate. There were at least four or five teams gathered together in similar fashion to the Hightowers.

One team under the hunter's flag stood out. They had already defeated two teams on their own and had now gathered two more allies, totaling thirteen people. For the moment, no one dared approach them. They were less than 30 meters away from Gavin's position.

Gavin stood motionless, observing. The hunter's flag team, spotting them as new prey, did not hesitate for a moment and charged directly toward Gavin and his team. Gavin and his group, seeing the charge, rushed forward without delay. The pace of both sides was rapid, their eyes fierce, and a brutal confrontation was about to unfold.

In the main stand, a group of nobles watched the battle unfold. Under the hunter's flag, Randyll Tully observed his eldest son Sam beside him. Sam's face was pale, and his body trembled uncontrollably. He was obviously frightened by the bloody scene unfolding before him. His chubby face was filled with fear, and his thick arms shook with terror.

Randyll Tully saw this and angrily shouted, "You useless coward! Don't bring this disgraceful heir to the field and tarnish the reputation of our family!" Afterward, he turned to his second son, Dickon, who was standing next to him. Dickon stared intently at the battlefield, his eyes bright and filled with determination. Unlike his brother, he showed no fear. Randyll couldn't help but feel frustrated. He sighed inwardly: "Why is Dickon not the eldest son? Why are the Seven Gods so cruel, giving me such a cowardly heir?"

Then, Randyll patted Dickon on the shoulder, pointing toward the hunter's flag charging toward Gavin's team, and said solemnly, "Dickon, that flag represents the motto of our family—I am the pioneer. Remember, the glory of the Tully family lies in this. No matter what enemy you face, you must always charge forward." Randyll had completely given up on his eldest son's cowardice. Fortunately, his younger son still had promise.

Earl Tully was about to continue his speech when he was abruptly interrupted by Dickon's sudden exclamation.

"Father! Look at that!"

Both turned to the field. Despite facing an enemy force more than double their number, Gavin and his team launched a countercharge. The two teams collided with an explosive crash.

One of the young men, moving like a ghost, quickly rushed into the enemy's formation with spear in hand. The tip of the spear darted through the air like a striking snake, stabbing left and right, disrupting the enemy's lines. The enemy soldiers responded in panic, but they couldn't stop his relentless assault.

Then, the young man abandoned his spear and drew his sword. The sword in his hands seemed like a harbinger of death. His swordsmanship was impeccable, each swing as sharp and swift as the wind. Every strike found its mark, targeting vital points. His figure darted through the chaos, sword rising and falling, spraying blood as the soldiers fell.

Even though the enemy fought fiercely, their efforts seemed clumsy in comparison to the boy's lightning-fast swordplay. His sword danced like lightning, cutting down opponents one after another. The remaining soldiers stepped back, their morale shattered.

In a matter of moments, the once-formidable team that no one dared approach had been defeated. The boy's armor was soaked in blood, but he showed no signs of fatigue. Instead, he exuded a chilling, god-like aura.

The battlefield was thick with the stench of blood, and the once-deafening sounds of combat seemed to quiet down. The young man stood amidst the carnage, victorious, like a war god descending to earth.