Lange's eyes were like a hungry hyena staring at its prey in the dim light. Suddenly, he stopped, arched his body, shouted and rushed forward, as if he was waving a one-handed sword. Swinging the wooden stick, he hit Winter on the head.
This was a very powerful blow, and Winter chose the wisest way to deal with it - to hide away. Like a light fox, he turned sideways quickly, almost leaning against Lange's stick to avoid the attack.
However, he did not fight back rashly. He did not believe that Lange would deliberately reveal such a big flaw.
Facts have proved that Winter was right. Langer was just a feint attack. He quickly turned around with the help of his strength and drew the next stick towards Winter at a very fast speed. However, this was caught by Winter, who had been prepared for it. Blocked.
Langer wanted to take advantage of the momentum to continue attacking, but Winter reacted decisively and stabbed Langer in the face with a wooden stick. This was unexpected by Langer. In his estimation, Winter should He will also use a conservative stance to defend rather than take the initiative to attack.
"Ah, damn!"
Winter poked Lange in the nose with the top of the wooden stick. The latter cursed in a voice mixed with pain, staggered back, and quickly distanced himself from Winter.
Langer dropped the wooden shield in his left hand and covered his nose. He felt numb there and couldn't feel anything. Soon, he noticed a warm and viscous liquid seeping out from between the fingers that were covering his nose. He couldn't help but move his left hand away from his nose, opened his palm and looked at it. It was full of blood.
"oh!"
"Please!"
"God……"
"Fight back, fight back!"
The onlookers booed, and Lange felt that he had been seen as a joke. He angrily wiped his nose twice more, but the bleeding did not stop at all. Instead, half of his face was stained, making him look even more pitiable than before. Terrible.
"You have to pay the price!" Langer picked up the shield again and looked at Winter with extreme resentment. He swore in his heart that he would kill this bastard today.
Winter knew that he had angered Lange, so he became more cautious and couldn't help but raise the shield in his left hand higher, preparing to deal with Lange's full attack.
This time, Langer no longer chose to feint. He held up his shield, like a moving stone mountain, and walked towards Winter with steady steps. Under the reflection of the surrounding fire pits, Lange seemed like a devil coming out of hell.
Winter suppressed the strange nervousness in his heart. Suddenly, he felt a powerful impact coming from the shield. His steps were unsteady and he couldn't help but take a few steps back. Before he could stabilize his body, the wooden stick whipped out like a violent storm came over involuntarily.
Winter hurriedly raised his wooden shield to resist, and the wooden stick hit it hard, making his hands sore even through the shield. Only then did he discover a terrifying thing - Langer had forced him some distance away from the brazier. Now Langer was standing against the light, and he was so close that it was difficult for him to see Langer waving the stick clearly. movements, which means that it is almost impossible for him to make any effective blocking movements.
So, after being lucky enough to withstand two attacks, Winter's good use ran out. He suddenly felt a numbness in his head, and everything in front of him became drowsy and blurry. His head became as heavy as a clay pot filled with ice cubes, and he fell to the ground involuntarily.
Immediately afterwards, he received sticks on his back, waist, and shoulders. The severe pain caused him to curl up, hold his head in his hands, and instinctively roll on the ground, trying to escape from the damn wooden sticks.
The soldiers and nobles watching on the field were stunned by this sudden reversal. The grinning Lange was like a farmer with a stick, trying to drive his rolling pigs into the pig pen.
Lange seemed to have regained the face he had just lost. He changed his mind and no longer leaned over to beat Winter with a wooden stick. He decided to humiliate him.
So Lange switched to kicking. As he kicked, he spat and said obscenely abusive words. The current situation has turned into a one-sided beating.
"Well done, my lord, please be kind and kick him back to Dusseldorf from Thuringia!" Sir Gretel shouted, causing the soldiers next to him to laugh.
Simon didn't know what to say at this time. Langer seemed to be a different person after his nosebleed. He didn't play according to the routine and directly used the most primitive and violent brute force to force Winter into a dimly lit place, breaking his defense with random sticks.
Winter was also quite unlucky. He received a sap on the head and didn't recover for a long time. This time he was really embarrassed.
"You lowly pig, you should be wallowing in the mud like this all your life. This kind of entertainment is very suitable for you, isn't it?" Lange's humiliating words made his surrounding soldiers excited. After all, the lord was in the limelight. , their faces also have light.
Duke Amadeus shook his head regretfully. He couldn't bear to see his always elegant spymaster being beaten so embarrassingly. Now it seems that the overall situation has been decided. If the referee does not come forward to end the duel, he is sure that it will turn into a farce.
Just as the Duke was about to stand up and announce that the winner of the duel was Lange and end it all, Lange, who had been so proud just now, was caught off guard by Winter and fell to the ground hard.
The Duke sat back down in his chair, dumbfounded.
Lange cursed loudly, but it was of no avail. He was already being ridden on his back by Winter, who was covered in dirt.
Winter's fist, mixed with the anger of revenge, hit Lange's face hard like a pestle of rammed earth. The latter could only throw away the stick and shield and block his face with both hands, otherwise he would be messed up. It's only a matter of time before you're knocked unconscious by a punch.
Sir Gretel, who had been watching with gusto just now, immediately fell down as if he had swallowed a fly alive. Like him, the Lange soldiers who were still reveling just now seemed to have been poured cold water on them, and their voices of celebration gradually disappeared.
Lange tried to free himself from under Winter, but Winter was like an anvil, motionless and just punched Lange in the face with all his strength. Lange subconsciously wanted to take out the dagger from his belt and insert it into Winter's neck, but before the duel began, all weapons except the wooden sticks were collected.
Lange wanted to free his hand and punch Winter in the lower ribs, but as soon as he moved his head-protecting arm away, he immediately received several punches in the face. He felt that his vision was blurred and he was pressed hard to breathe. He heard the jeers and boos from the onlookers, but now he had no energy to be angry.
Panic was like a tsunami that broke through the dam in his heart, and he could even hear his own heartbeat clearly. He tried several times to break away from Winter, but the angry Winter didn't give him any chance. He was like an ancient tree that had already taken root here.
Lange's face no longer hurts anymore, he is numb, and even the pain temporarily abandoned him. Brother Linde was so anxious that he shouted Lange's name in the crowd. Lange heard it and also recognized the fact that if he didn't admit defeat, the next person he saw would definitely be God.
"Stop, stop..."
Lange's voice was as weak as that of a listless wildcat, but thankfully the Duke, who had been looking intently, noticed.
"Stop, Winter, you win, you are the winner of this duel!" The Duke did not hesitate this time. He stood up directly and shouted to Winter.
This time is different from the one just now. Now Lange obviously has no ability to fight back. If this duel does not end, he will be beaten to death.
Winter stopped punching, and then he noticed that Lange's face was bruised and bruised, and the rest of the face was almost covered in blood. Lange looked almost unrecognizable at this time.
Winter enjoyed the cheers and blessings of the onlookers, and stood up with strength, but felt that his body was extremely sore, and he stumbled and fell back to the ground. Finally, he stood up again with the help of his attendants, bowed to the Duke with difficulty, and then limped toward the outside of the camp.
Wherever he went, the onlookers uniformly gave way to a path. These ignorant soldiers shouted wildly and were almost crazy with excitement. They stretched out their hands to touch Winter - because he won the duel and received God's blessing and approval, the soldiers considered this behavior It would bring them good luck, especially since they would have to go through a life-or-death battle in a few days.
Simon glanced at the embarrassed figure on the ground and shook his head. He thought that Lange had brought all this on himself. So, he chose to squeeze away from the fanatical soldiers and followed Winter.
Lange's situation was not optimistic. Brother Linde was the first person to run up to check the situation after the duel. He had some medical experience, which could be put to use now.
"Why are you standing there in a daze? Go get a stretcher and send your lord back to his tent first!" Brother Lind said anxiously to Sir Gretel and another of Lange's trusted soldiers who were helpless next to him.
"Does he need to be bled to purify his body?" said the soldier who brought the stretcher. "That's what the priest did in Dorstenburg."
"Maybe, but now is not the time." Sir Lynde was more concerned about the current situation, "Move him up."
"Oh, my God, he is so heavy." The trusted soldier couldn't help but sigh.
"This is all thanks to the inhumane Baron Winter. He made our monarch bleed so much that he became heavier." The ignorant Sir Gretel complained.
"After the master's injury is healed, he will definitely take revenge."
"Of course he will," Sir Gretel licked his lips bloodthirstyly. "It will crush his neck like a bear, then effortlessly dig out his heart and mash his intestines..."
"For God's sake, can you please be quiet?" Brother Linde, who was walking beside the stretcher, could no longer listen.
Sir Gretel hated someone interrupting him the most. His venomous gaze was locked on Brother Linde's eyes, but to his surprise, Brother Linde looked back at him without fear. For a moment, he wanted to draw his sword and stab this rebellious guy to death.
But after a while, Sir Gretel looked away boringly with suppressed anger, because he knew that this was a meaningless act. If he dared to kill the servant of God, he would have to fall into hell and enjoy endless enjoyment. The fire of karma burns.
