Chapter Ninety-Seven: If You've Got the Guts, Come!

Hearing the conversation between the two adventurers, Xia Ya's eyes lit up. He had already guessed seven or eight parts of the matter in his mind, though he said nothing more of it. He casually took a few more gulps of wine before setting down his cup.

The band of cavalrymen raised a ruckus in the tavern until evening before dispersing. Dodoro and Soite, along with several other retainers, also returned in triumph. It was said that the mage had soundly beaten up the several ruffians who had once robbed him, stripped them naked, and left them dumped by the city wall.

At last having vented his pent-up anger, the mage was in high spirits. Even when he brought Xia Ya his foot-washing water that evening, his movements were noticeably swifter than usual.

The night passed without further incident, and the cavalrymen lodged temporarily in the city's garrison barracks. The next morning, Xia Ya rose and wandered aimlessly around the town for half the day. Only at noon did he go alone to the garrison headquarters to urge Bomfret to set out. But when he arrived at the gate and had a message sent in, he waited for quite a while before someone came back with word that Sir Bomfret had drunk heavily the night before, was still suffering from a hangover, and had not yet risen from bed. Xia Ya was told to wait.

Xia Ya rolled his eyes and thought about barging straight in, but on second thought—after all, this mission had been given an extremely generous amount of time. If that pretty-boy didn't want to hit the road, fine; it just meant the brothers could rest another day in Wildfire Town. Still, since he was technically carrying out a task, he suppressed his temper and had the messenger at the gate go in and ask whether Bomfret intended to rest for the day and set out tomorrow.

In truth, Bomfret had already risen long ago inside the garrison headquarters. When Xia Ya arrived at the gate, he was sitting in the great hall drinking, attended solicitously by the garrison commander of Wildfire Town.

The hall, though not overly large, could still accommodate dozens of people drinking merrily. In the center sat a brazier piled high with fine white charcoal, its flames vigorous yet utterly free of smoke. On the iron rack above the brazier hung a lamb that had been roasted to a crisp golden brown, fragrant and tempting. Two women in thin robes, with a trace of road-weariness on their faces, held curved knives and carved slices of mutton onto plates, which they presented with both hands to Bomfret.

Bomfret sat in the seat of honor. On the table before him were dried fruits, a few dishes, and a pot of wine. This handsome knight had fully recovered his old bearing, with none of that panicked, startled-quail look he'd worn on the battlefield. Instead, he sat high and mighty, squinting as he looked down at the garrison commander and several mid-ranking officers seated below.

Seeing the soup and wine spilled messily across the tables before these soldiers, each of them hugging his cup and bellowing as he drank, Bomfret frowned deeply.

Too vulgar. Far too vulgar. This damned backwater place. These fellows had not a shred of breeding or manners.

And the women beside them... every man in the room had a painted, powdered woman leaning against him. But these women were clearly all prostitutes pressed into service from the pleasure quarter of Wildfire Town. Though the garrison commander, in order to curry favor with Bomfret, had arranged the youngest and prettiest of them at his side, how could a knight of an imperial noble house possibly look twice at a whore from such a low-class establishment?

Back in the imperial capital, to be sure, he had frequented such places—but those were the top-tier money pits where the nobility gathered and gold flowed like water. How could the girls there compare to the cheap, common stock beside him now?

Bomfret drank with some bitterness, though in his heart he had finally settled down.

Regardless, the garrison commander's deliberate fawning and flattery had restored some of his self-respect. He could drink and carouse here, with a girl attending to him... eh, that was ten thousand times better than being bullied by that bastard bumpkin in the Thirteenth Legion!

With that thought, Bomfret took a bitter drink.

It was just then that someone came in to report that Xia Ya was outside the garrison gate. Bomfret cursed loudly for a few moments, then sternly instructed that he was to say he hadn't risen yet. How could he possibly face Xia Ya right now?

Xia Ya waited outside the gate for quite some time. Increasingly bored and growing restless, he thought: I'm here escorting you by orders; if I slacked off too much, I'd feel a bit guilty, so I came to ask after you—and now this ass-licking pretty-boy goes and turns up his nose. Fine! Since the little white-faced brat is safe inside the garrison, I don't need to worry about his safety. If the stubborn fool won't set out, I won't waste my time waiting here either. I'll go find my own amusement!

Having settled the matter in his mind, Xia Ya laughed heartily and strode away with his head held high. The road before the garrison gate was a straight street. It was plenty wide to begin with, but since half of it was occupied by the garrison compound, there weren't many shops along it—and even the few that existed had been temporarily commandeered by the garrison's soldiers.

After walking a few steps, Xia Ya saw a cart coming toward him, laden with a full load of firewood and charcoal. The horse pulling it was entirely black in coat—and since Xia Ya was a cavalryman after all, he had a decent eye for horseflesh. At the sight of this horse, he couldn't help but take a second, longer look.

The horse was caked in dirt and mud, but its frame was clearly magnificent. Though it had been sullied by a master who used it to pull a cart and kept it in the company of common nags, the horse walked with its head high and strides long, carrying itself with extraordinary bearing. Its lines and proportions were perfectly balanced—powerful, robust, and agile...

The moment Xia Ya saw it, his heart stirred. Such a fine warhorse, reduced to pulling a cart?

He felt a twinge of desire. He had plenty of gold coins on him—why not approach the cart's owner and buy it?

But then he reconsidered: Wildfire Town was full of hidden dragons and crouching tigers. Who knew what the cart owner really did? Perhaps the man was deliberately keeping a low profile to hide his identity. If Xia Ya barged in recklessly, he might only invite trouble.

Xia Ya sighed, shook his head, and continued forward. After a few more steps, he couldn't help glancing back at the cart. It was heading toward the garrison gate. The driver sat on the cart's bench, wearing a thin leather coat. His head was wrapped in a large strip of coarse cloth to shield against the wind. He was of medium build, holding a whip, lounging lazily against the cart with his legs dangling, swinging the whip weakly and listlessly.

As for that black horse, it stirred something in Xia Ya. He felt a strange, indefinable unease.

Unable to place it, Xia Ya could only shake his head and keep walking. But when he reached the end of the street, turned the corner, and took a few dozen more steps, his face suddenly changed color and his footsteps came to an abrupt halt! In an instant his mouth went dry, his heart hammered wildly, and a feeling of extreme shock and tremor left his body stiff and weak. A heavy weight pressed down on his chest, and he could barely breathe!

No! No! No!

That horse, that horse... what he felt was... familiarity. Deep familiarity! That black horse—he had seen it before!

The reason he hadn't recognized it moments ago was that every previous time he'd seen this horse, it had been on the battlefield! Each time, though the horse was magnificent, its luster had been overshadowed by its rider! Every time he'd seen it, the horse had been armored from head to tail, even its head fitted with a crescent-shaped blade!

That was precisely why he had failed to recognize it just now!!

That black horse...

It was...

It was Hastings' mount!!!

Back at the corner where the street turned, the cart had rolled slowly up to the garrison gate—and suddenly stopped.

The massive cart blocked the garrison gate entirely. The guards at the gate immediately shouted harshly and rushed over. The driver hopped down from the cart, paying no heed to the guards' shouts. Deliberately, he unharnessed the horse from its traces one by one, then casually grabbed a bundle of firewood from the cart and tossed it aside.

Several guards charged up, shouting. The driver gave a cold laugh. No one saw how he moved—only a flash of black light—and two guards went flying. When they hit the ground, their bodies were scorched black all over!

The driver pulled several metal rods as thick as an egg from the cart. Their tips were threaded, and he swiftly screwed them together into a long spear. Then he tore the cloth from his face and tossed it casually to the ground!

That face—ordinary and dull at first glance—was transformed by a pair of slightly feminine, yin-tempered eyes. From time to time, strange, sharp glints flashed within them, and suddenly that common face was filled with striking brilliance!

Hastings! Odin Hastings!!

He vaulted onto the horse. A long laugh burst from his lips, and he charged up the steps of the garrison gate. Amid the startled cries and angry shouts of the surrounding guards, the black horse gave a long whinny, reared up, and kicked the garrison gate clean off its hinges. The flying door panel smashed several guards flat.

Hastings held his spear, standing on his horse, blocking the garrison gate! By now, a crowd of soldiers had come pouring down the street. Inside the garrison, a squad of armored guards rushed out with swords and shields. Hastings only smiled coldly.

With a mighty shout, he spurred his horse and leveled his spear!

"Bomfret, you coward! I told you—I would come to take your life!"

With this long laugh, the black horse lunged forward. The spear swept out, trailing a ribbon of black flame. The armored guards at the very front were ground to shreds in an instant within the black light—men and armor alike shattered into fragments!

The spear swept sideways, and several guards flew through the air. The sharp blade of black light tore them apart midair! When they landed, their mangled corpses were already charred black by the burning dark flame!

Hastings charged his horse into the crowd within the garrison. Wherever the spear passed, armored guards fell screaming. Within that black radiance, a rain of blood took form!

There had been dozens of armored guards in the courtyard, but none could hold Hastings back for even an instant. In moments, they were all cut down!

Hastings bent down and snatched up a Byzantine soldier's sword from the ground. The weapon turned into a bolt of black light in his hand and shot forth. With a thunderous crash, the great hall's door panels burst into splinters! He spurred his horse forward, spear raised, and the steed trampled straight through the doorway!

Inside the hall, the garrison officers were utterly frozen! They watched this one man and one horse charge in, smashing everything in their path. The rider was wreathed in black flame, like a god of slaughter stepping out of hell itself!

And Bomfret, seated in the center, had gone pale as a corpse. With a clink, his wine cup fell to the floor. The knight trembled uncontrollably, staring fixedly at Hastings, his throat making a choked, rattling sound...

Others might not know Hastings, but Bomfret—who had faced him on the battlefield—knew him all too well!

"Bomfret?" Hastings spotted the man in the center at once. His eyes burned with murderous intent. "I told you—I would kill you! I will not grant you the honor of dying in a fair duel! A coward like you deserves only to be butchered beneath my hand!"

With a whoosh, he hurled the spear from his grasp. It became a black bolt of lightning! The black flame surged wildly, and everyone else in the hall felt a wave of unbearable heat rushing in their faces!

The black lightning struck Bomfret's position in an instant. Poor, pathetic pretty-boy—he had climbed his way up by selling his body. What skill did he have to deflect such an attack? Let alone a strike delivered in Hastings' fury?!

With a thunderous blast, his body was pierced through by the black lightning, then shattered! The dark flame burned, reducing him to ashes in moments! Poor Bomfret—not even his corpse remained!

The woman beside him had long since collapsed to the floor in terror. Hastings spurred his horse forward. Its hooves kicked over the brazier in the center of the room. He rode slowly to the seat of honor, where the spear wreathed in black fire was embedded in the very spot Bomfret had stood. Hastings casually plucked the spear from the ground, turned around, and swept his lightning-like gaze across the hall. Only then did the officers there snap out of their daze, drawing their swords and stumbling forward to attack.

"Ants..."

A faint smile curled at the corner of Hastings' mouth. The spear, trailing black flames, traced a blade of eerie, abyssal light...

BOOM!!!

More and more soldiers were swarming down the long street. But suddenly a wall burst open—bricks and stones exploding as it collapsed—and a black shadow on horseback charged straight through it. Several soldiers were sent flying, spitting blood!

At the far end of the street, Hastings reined in his horse, looked at the Byzantine soldiers before him, raised his spear to the sky, and laughed long and loud.

"Odin Hastings has slain the Byzantine knight Bomfret here!!"

Amid the laughter, Hastings suddenly bent low and spurred his horse straight into the crowd of Byzantine soldiers! The spear churned up a sheet of black light, and the crowd instantly became a field of blood!

A blur of spear-shadows flashed. Screams rang out as the soldiers scattered. None could withstand even a single blow from Hastings' spear. Like wind sweeping across a wheat field, the soldiers fell one after another, blood spraying in every direction. Hastings—one man, one horse—crashed straight through the Byzantine ranks and burst out the other side! He galloped to the very end of the long street before reining in. By now, Hastings was drenched in blood. He gave a cold sneer, flicked his spear with a light twist, and with a crash drove the point into the wall beside him. With a casual heave, the entire wall shattered and collapsed, the broken rubble piling up and filling the whole street!

"Stand in my way—die! Chase me—die!" Hastings' hoarse voice rang down the street, its lofty tone dripping with mockery. "If you have the spine, then come!!"

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(A note: Tonight's second chapter will probably be a bit late. I have to go out right now to attend the grand literary exhibition's Nanjing stop roadshow—I can't get out of it. It's at Nanjing University in the Xianlin University District.

With yesterday's burst of updates, I have no backlog saved. So today's second chapter can only be written after I finish attending the event and return. If it's a little late, please forgive me—I'll be sure to rush back as soon as I can!

Finally, as always, I'm asking for monthly votes! Your support is my motivation!!)