Time seemed to stretch infinitely in this moment.
Everyone watched wide-eyed.
Sandor Clegane's head was pulled fiercely towards Gregor by his monstrous brother with all his might!
The Mountain was going to twist Sandor's neck off with his one good hand!
On the high platform, Sansa let out a short scream, covering her mouth tightly.
Arya's small face instantly lost all color, and her grey eyes were filled with despair.
Ned Stark stood up abruptly, wanting to do something, but he couldn't interfere with the match; he was helpless.
A trace of morbid hope reappeared on Petyr Baelish's flaccid face.
Die!
Die together!
As long as The Hound died, there would be no winner in this duel!
As long as there was no winner, he still had a glimmer of hope!
However, at this critical moment...
Lynn, who had been sitting calmly all along, finally made a subtle movement.
He didn't stand up, nor did he even open his eyes.
He sighed softly, and the knuckles of his hand holding the wine glass moved slightly.
An invisible, extremely cold energy, like an unseen thread, instantly crossed the distance of space and precisely wrapped around Sandor Clegane's neck!
Boom—!
Sandor, who was being pulled by immense force and felt his neck bones about to break, suddenly trembled.
An intensely cold chill instantly erupted from the back of his neck.
And spread down his spine to all his limbs!
It wasn't the cold of death.
But a kind of... indestructible coldness!!
In that instant, his neck seemed no longer to be flesh and blood, but to have become the hardest cold iron of the Land of Always Winter in the North!
"Crack... crack crack..."
For the first time, Gregor's bloodshot eyes showed an emotion other than bloodlust.
It was bewilderment and confusion.
He felt as if he wasn't grabbing a person's neck.
But a piece of ten-thousand-year-old ice transported from the far North!
He used all his strength, a grip that could crush steel, yet it only left pale marks on Sandor's skin.
He couldn't penetrate any deeper!
What on earth is going on?
How could this bastard's neck... be so hard?!
Gregor was stunned.
His mind, chaotic from hatred and intense pain, crashed for the first time.
And Sandor, too, recovered from that momentary feeling of suffocation.
He felt that cold and solid power around his neck.
He didn't know where this power came from, but he knew this was his last chance!
"Roar!!!"
Sandor didn't hesitate, letting out a wilder roar than Gregor's!
It was the last struggle of a cornered beast, the desperate counterattack of one on the verge of death!
His one remaining good arm suddenly exerted force.
The longsword in his hand no longer stabbed at Gregor's vital points, but instead slammed the hilt hard against Gregor's charred arm that was gripping his wrist!
"Crunch!"
The sound of bone cracking rang out!
Gregor cried out in pain, and the grip on Sandor's wrist subconsciously loosened.
Now!
Sandor abruptly pulled back his longsword.
At the same time, his crippled left arm twisted at an odd angle, using his shoulder to push hard against Gregor's chest!
He didn't retreat; instead, he used all his strength to charge forward!
"Get—off—me!!!"
Sandor roared, pouring all the hatred and strength of his life into it!
Boom!!!
Gregor's mountain-like body lost its final balance under Sandor's suicidal charge.
His bewildered eyes looked at the sky.
Then, he fell backward, crashing heavily into the huge, still burning brazier!
"Whoosh—!!!"
The flames instantly engulfed him!
"Ow—owowowowow—!!!"
A non-human scream, so shrill it made everyone grimace, erupted from the flames!
It was the extreme pain of flesh being roasted and armor burning and branding the skin!
Gregor struggled and writhed frantically in the fire, like a maggot thrown into hot water.
A strange aroma instantly permeated the air.
The screams grew weaker and weaker, more and more hoarse.
Finally, they completely disappeared... [Your subordinate Sandor Clegane has killed Gregor Clegane, gaining 1500 experience!]
Flames shot into the sky, illuminating the stunned and terrified faces of everyone in the arena.
The entire venue was dead silent.
Only the crackling of the burning flames and Sandor's heavy breathing could be heard.
Sandor, dragging his heavily injured body, staggered back a few steps.
He threw away the longsword in his hand and slumped to the ground.
He looked at the sea of fire that had completely consumed the nightmare of his life, and two lines of muddy tears slowly streamed down his half-burned, hideous face.
This man, who had spent his entire life in hatred, actually cried.
It's over.
Twenty years of hatred, twenty years of torment.
Finally... it's over.
"Clang."
On the high platform, a crisp shattering sound broke the suffocating silence.
Petyr Baelish's wine glass slipped from his hand and shattered on the ground.
He looked as if all his bones had been removed, slumping in his chair.
His grey-green eyes, which always glittered with shrewdness and calculation, now held only a dead ash.
It's over.
Everything is over.
This time he's really finished!
His gaze uncontrollably drifted towards the man who had been calm and composed throughout.
Lynn.
Lynn slowly opened his eyes.
He didn't look at the tragic scene in the arena, nor did he look at Sandor, who was finally free.
His gaze fell calmly on Petyr Baelish.
There was no mockery, no pity in his eyes.
Only the calmness of looking at a dead man.
"The duel... is over."
The trembling voice of the High Septon finally roused everyone from their shock.
"The winner... Sandor Clegane!"
Whoosh—!!!!
After a brief silence, there was an uproar like a mountain roaring and a sea raging!
The entire arena erupted!
Gasps, screams, and incredulous discussions.
They converged into a huge wave of sound, almost overturning King's Landing!
"He won! The Hound won!"
"My gods! He actually killed The Mountain!"
"By the Seven, this is the craziest, bloodiest duel I've ever seen!"
The gamblers who had bet on The Hound winning erupted in shouts of ecstasy.
While those who had bet on The Mountain were filled with dejection and disbelief.
On the high platform, Joffrey stood up abruptly, his pale face filled with excitement and cruelty.
He didn't like Gregor; he liked blood and violence!
And this duel undoubtedly satisfied all his twisted fantasies!
King Robert opened his mouth, but ultimately just sat back down heavily, picked up his wine glass, and drained it.
He finally just loudly said one word: "Good."
Cersei's face was extremely grim.
Gregor was dead, which meant she had lost a powerful retainer.
Olenna and Margaery Tyrell, the grandmother and granddaughter from Highgarden, exchanged a meaningful glance.
Lady Olenna, the Queen of Thorns, raised her wine glass and toasted Lynn from afar, a satisfied smile on her face.
Margaery's beautiful eyes sparkled with various emotions.
Just as everyone was discussing this shocking reversal...
Lynn slowly stood up.
He adjusted his collar and, under the complex gazes of everyone, slowly walked down the high platform towards the center of the arena.
Maesters and attendants were scrambling to lift the heavily injured and unconscious Sandor onto a stretcher.
But no one dared approach the still burning flames.
Lynn's appearance silenced everyone.
They looked at this king-beyond-the-wall, wondering what he intended to do.
Lynn walked to the bonfire, the hot air blowing his robes, yet he seemed oblivious.
He looked at the charred, unrecognizably burned corpse in the fire and spoke calmly.
"Gregor Clegane, a man who killed countless people throughout his life, was deeply sinful."
"He was not a knight, nor a warrior; he was a monster that should not exist in this world."
"His soul was long ago defiled by evil, and his body is likewise cursed."
Lynn's gaze swept across the entire arena, finally settling on Queen Cersei, whose face was pale.
"To prevent the spread of evil, and to prevent this cursed corpse from polluting the land of King's Landing."
"I shall, in the name of defending the Seven Kingdoms, thoroughly purify it here."
Purify?
Everyone was stunned.
Cersei's face changed even more; she was about to speak to stop him.
But then Lynn raised his hand.
A group of Gold Cloaks surrounded the area.
Everyone could only watch as Gregor's massive charred corpse was dismembered inch by inch under the Gold Cloaks' blades... In just a few dozen breaths.
Only severed limbs remained on the spot.
Gregor Clegane.
This humanoid beast that had struck fear into all of Westeros.
Was thus completely erased from this world.
Lynn bowed slightly to Robert, a subtle flicker in his eyes that no one noticed.
Of course, he wasn't doing it for purification.
He only knew that in the original timeline, this corpse would be taken away by a maester named Qyburn and then transformed into an even more terrifying, mindless, killing-only wight.
He didn't want to leave himself such a troublesome opponent.
Even if Gregor couldn't pose any threat to him, it still wouldn't do!
When weeding, you must pull out the roots!
Having done all this, Lynn turned around.
His gaze swept over the horrified crowd and once again landed on the man slumped in his chair, his face ashen.
Petyr Baelish.
"Lord Baelish, now, isn't it your turn?"
Petyr Baelish's body suddenly trembled, as if he felt Lynn's gaze.
He looked up, and his eyes, once full of wisdom and ambition, now held nothing but endless fear.
He saw two City Watch guards in golden cloaks walking silently towards him.
He knew the Gold Cloaks were coming for him.
He lost.
He lost this gamble he thought he had won.
And he also lost his life.
Petyr Baelish opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say something.
But in the end, he just rolled his eyes and fainted completely from fright.
Game over.
Petyr has lived too long; it's time for him to leave the stage.
Dear Reader,
A special 60% discount offer available Don't miss this opportunity to enjoy your favorite stories at a greatly reduced price.
The offer is available for a limited time only — grab it before it ends!
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn luffy1898