The Claymore trainees hadn't expected Ryan to be so well-prepared.
A foreigner, surprisingly, understood Morax's contract.
But could the God of Liyue govern the people of Mondstadt?
An unsupervised contract was nothing but a piece of scrap paper.
With a cold sneer, a man stepped forward to negotiate with Ryan.
The two sides argued for a long time.
Finally, the contract stipulated:
"The conflict between both parties shall cease when a point is made."
"Bleeding and broken bones are permissible, but severed limbs or crippled hands and feet are not."
"The heart, groin, temples… numerous vital areas are not within the attack range."
"Killing is forbidden, and the power of artifacts must not be used."
"All injuries shall be borne by the individual; the victorious party is not responsible for medical expenses."
"Should the defeated party be a Claymore trainee, calculated by a hundred-person quota, they must compensate Ryan for the delayed sword training courses, totaling ten million Mora or equivalent value. The Noble Eldest Son is ordered to pay the cost on behalf of others within ten days, regardless of whether he has raised the funds."
"Should the defeated party be Ryan, he must pay one million Mora as compensation for insulting Mondstadt nobles and future Knights by calling them 'Pyro Hilichurls'."
The number of duelists on each side was unequal, so the compensation offered was naturally also unequal.
Ryan seemed to be at a slight disadvantage, but he didn't believe he would lose.
The other side thought the same way. Initially bickering internally over the compensation amount, they quickly designated the Noble Eldest Son, who initiated the duel, as the responsible party.
The Noble Eldest Son, not believing he would lose, immediately agreed.
They internally settled on a new contract, specifying who would contribute to the large compensation, who to the small, and who would be exempt, all to collectively raise ten million.
Ryan looked at the draft of the contract in his hand, realized he had overlooked a clause, and quickly added it.
"Both parties may only use plain training Claymores and plain wu feng swords! The last one standing shall determine the victor."
Writing the main text, he spread out the paper.
Ryan placed a pile of Mora on it, worshiping Morax and requesting His witness.
Mora was first His flesh and blood, then His Gnosis's creation.
It naturally had a connection with this deity.
"Place your handprint and sign your name!"
Ryan readily signed his name, written in Teyvat's common language, and pressed his red handprint on two copies of the contract.
The Claymore trainees lined up one by one, nearly filling both sheets of paper with signatures.
The Noble Eldest Son looked mockingly at the Mora Ryan had offered in worship.
"Violations of contracts and agreements are either enforced by the Knights of Favonius or settled by lawyers. Do you really think you can appeal to a deity?"
Ryan didn't care. He collected his copy of the contract, wrapped the Mora, and carefully placed it at his waist.
As it fell into the pouch, a single Mora suddenly dissipated, dissolving into a surge of Divine Power that enveloped the contract.
No one noticed.
"I'll give you time to set up a formation!" Drawing his wu feng sword, Ryan became sharp and formidable.
"What foolish and dreadful courage!" The Noble Eldest Son clapped his hands and laughed loudly. "A fool who can accept a one-against-a-hundred fight is unheard of!"
"Didn't your Instructor tell you? Even in the most disadvantageous situations, never let yourself fight outnumbered."
"Because such people usually don't live long!"
"Today, we'll teach you a lesson, so you know not to meddle in others' affairs casually! And not to casually challenge Mondstadt's unspoken rules!"
"Every Mondstadt citizen knows to shout 'Noelle!' when in trouble! Yet you come here to disrupt that!"
"With people like you, who will help others in the future? If everyone is so selfish, Mondstadt's spirit will be ruined by you!"
Ryan was expressionless: "Those are nauseating words; you've finally spoken your mind!"
"I will stab you thirty-six times, each sword avoiding vital points. After a physician's examination, it will be declared a minor injury!"
The Noble Eldest Son's smile didn't reach his eyes: "One against a hundred, and you can still wound me? Who gave you such courage?"
"In a one-on-one fight, none of us are your match?"
"But if we all challenge you one by one, and we lose, then we Claymore trainees will treat you as our teacher and avoid you by a wide margin whenever we see you."
Indeed, a fight without pre-fight taunts to stir up anger is incomplete.
Ryan felt deeply satisfied. His sword hummed softly, and a wind suddenly arose.
"Who do you think you are? A Hilichurl King with unmatched strength and stamina, or someone with a Vision?"
The Noble Eldest Son seemed to have a lot to say. While having his confidants surround Ryan three layers deep, blocking all escape routes,
He unleashed a minute-long barrage of insults, using his noble upbringing to full effect.
Ryan felt like dozing off listening to him. Compared to netizens from before his Transmigration, this guy was too limited in vocabulary!
He, of course, knew the difficulty of a one-against-a-hundred fight.
Even a formal Knights of Favonius Instructor, without the power of artifacts and weapons, wouldn't dare claim a hundred percent victory in a one-against-a-hundred fight against trainees.
After all, his position was fixed, preventing guerrilla tactics.
And without the protective glow of artifacts on his body, it meant one mistake would lead to injury.
Injury and bleeding meant loss of strength, not far from defeat.
But… since he accepted the challenge,
What he sought was excitement, to carve a path out of the impossible.
His body's pores expanded, and his hair stood on end.
Outside, the eight winds blew, filled with chilling malice.
For stability, the Claymore trainees chose to mimic a spear formation, holding their training Claymores and surrounding him, shoulder to shoulder, striking downwards together.
There was no avoiding it. Even if Ryan chose to break through one person, he would be instantly struck by the others, severely wounded, and fall to the ground.
"Still got some brains!" Ryan didn't step forward, as there was no space to dodge around him.
Using the Westwind Breathing Technique, he tasted the cold, rusty-smelling air.
His blood boiled. In his mind, the entire Training Field, what one hundred people were doing, and what actions they would take, were all evolving within the constructed information model.
As long as he broke through the first circle of encirclement, the people behind would not be so coordinated and dense. Instead, they would be scattered, participating with a 'just here to watch' mentality.
They were the source of vitality, the weakness that could defeat everyone.
"When I speak, I am memorizing information and thinking of ways to respond! What are you doing? You only urged your confidants to surround me, but you didn't make the other trainees obey!"
"As a Knight leading an army, you are also an unqualified general!"
"You'll never Breakthrough to the position of Captain in your life!"
Ryan felt his thoughts operating very quickly under immense pressure.
In one second, it was a thousand thoughts, a myriad of continuations.
"This battle will surely yield rewards!"
"Come on! My stepping stones!"
"I see it, the wind of the plains, blowing through countless valleys, reversing the swift winds and cold currents!"
The blade of the wu feng sword disappeared. In an instant, it struck horizontally in all directions.
Sword shadows scattered like flowers, spreading like the Anemo.
Rising from the flat ground, surging into the sky and all around.
There is a wind on the plains, called a Tornado!
His body spun, and clanging sounds rang out simultaneously, turning into ear-piercing notes and eye-searing sparks.
One by one, the descending Claymores were parried.
Their defenses were wide open!
Ryan was like a wolf, like a tiger. His single leg, like a whip, lashed out at a man's body, directly sending him flying to crash into the waiting trainees behind him.
Among the Claymore users, there were also outstanding individuals who didn't have time to be shocked or surprised.
They instinctively filled the gap and struck down with another sword.
Favonius Bladework, Favonius Footwork, fast and swift!