In the shadows, a gloomy face gradually revealed itself. It was Walton.
But at this moment, his gaze flickered slightly, coldly locking onto Corleone.
"How did you know I would come?"
His voice was suppressed very low. Looking at Corleone standing with his sword, Walton didn't feel a real threat from him.
On the training grounds of Harrenhal, Walton had witnessed the other practicing swordsmanship with his own eyes. Those unfamiliar and clumsy movements convinced him that Corleone was just a beginner who had just picked up a weapon.
As for the Hound...
That guy indeed had a reputation and had won the tourney champion, but now, he couldn't even stand steadily.
Corleone's wrist moved slightly, the sword tip tracing a cold arc under the moonlight, and he spoke playfully: "Along the way, I've been pondering."
"What exactly is the 'reward' Roose Bolton wanted you to get in King's Landing? I thought of countless possibilities, but none felt right."
"Until yesterday, I inadvertently caught the look in your eyes when you looked at Lady Stark, and suddenly it all made sense."
Saying this, Corleone smiled slightly: "I heard that although Earl Roose Bolton's only son died, he still has a bastard. If he wants to control the North, nothing is more convenient than marrying a daughter of House Stark, right?"
"But unfortunately, he didn't know that Arya Stark had already escaped from King's Landing, yet happened to be bumped into by you."
Walton listened quietly, staring at Corleone with extreme curiosity for a long time before sighing with admiration: "You are truly smart, Lord Corleone."
"I have never seen anyone smarter than you. Sometimes I even feel your wisdom surpasses Lord Bolton."
"But unfortunately, smart people often don't live long. Today I must take her away..."
"Did you fucking... forget there's someone else here!"
Just then, the Hound beside them roared without warning, rushing at Walton with his sword in both hands.
However, just as Walton judged, he couldn't even stand steadily now, let alone chop someone.
Dodging easily.
Thud!
A backhand punch hit the Hound in the face. The Hound fell directly, lying right next to Arya, unable to get up again this time.
"Move aside."
Regarding defeating the tourney champion of King's Landing, Walton acted very calmly, as if he had swatted a mosquito, continuing to point his sword at Corleone.
"You are an interesting person. I don't want to kill you."
But Corleone showed no intention of moving aside; instead, the corners of his mouth rose slightly: "Honestly, Walton."
"You are also an interesting guy, but I really want to try what it feels like to kill you."
Saying this, he stood with his sword, actually assuming a combat stance.
"Ha!"
Hearing this, Walton sneered: "Don't be naive. Your Dothraki guard and that big woman are still busy fighting those guys from Karhold."
"You can't stop me, nor do you have the ability."
"Nothing is impossible in this world," Corleone responded calmly.
Walton looked at him deeply, seemingly considering, but with duty on his shoulders, he ultimately strode forward, aiming a concise and fierce diagonal slash straight at Corleone's right shoulder.
"Argh!!!"
This sword speed wasn't top-notch, but the power was heavy and fierce, the intent obvious.
In his expectation, with Corleone's clumsy swordsmanship, the opponent absolutely couldn't block this strike.
The start of the battle meant... the end.
However—
Clang!
A crisp collision sounded.
Walton widened his eyes, looking in disbelief as his blade was easily blocked by Corleone again!
Once was a coincidence, then twice...
Frowning slightly, the experienced Walton immediately turned his wrist, retracting the blade while continuously thrusting rapidly at Corleone's chest and abdomen.
This was his specialty. Relying on amazing speed, almost no one in the Dreadfort was his match.
But Corleone's reaction surprised him again.
Although his footwork still seemed a bit messy and clumsy, he didn't fall into a disadvantage. Even if slightly inferior in speed, he could always gain dodging space with wide opening and closing sword moves.
This set of movements had no aesthetic feeling at all, but it reminded Walton of Brienne.
Yes, it seemed this swordsmanship was indeed taught by that woman, but why...
Walton was incredibly shocked. He clearly remembered that in the Harrenhal training ground, Corleone couldn't even hold the most basic stance straight. His sword-swinging movements were uglier than chopping wood!
How many days had passed since then?
Even if he practiced day and night without stopping, it was absolutely impossible to hone his swordsmanship to this level!
This feeling of proficiency required at least years of bloody battles to cultivate!
Could he have been hiding his strength all along?
Or... was this kid really a genius!
Clang! Clang! Clang!
As time passed, the sound of clashing blades became denser.
Fine beads of sweat oozed from Walton's forehead. The more he fought, the more alarmed he felt. Not because of stamina consumption, but because Corleone seemed to be adapting to his rhythm at a speed visible to the naked eye!
Clumsy footsteps gradually stabilized, and the frequency of blocking with the sword blade increased, even starting to attempt simple counterattacks!
Although neutralized by Walton one by one, that grasp of timing and angle of attack definitely didn't look like a novice!
"This is impossible!!!"
Another heavy slash, but Corleone still held the sword horizontally with both hands in front of him, blocking it firmly.
In Walton's shocked and angry gaze, Corleone panted rapidly and actually grinned at him.
"It seems the word 'impossible' needs to be redefined, Captain Walton."
He lifted forcefully, pushing Walton's blade away, and staggered back a few steps himself.
Corleone could feel the webbing of his sword-holding hand cracking, and his arm muscles were very sore. That pain and fatigue were incredibly real, yet made him incredibly intoxicated.
Awesome!!!
No wonder Jaime and Brienne liked to rush at opponents with swords when hot-headed.
Turns out this thing is really addictive!
Pity though...
Glancing at [Basic Swordsmanship Lv2] in the system panel, Corleone shook his head.
As early as when he killed Ragg, he awakened [Basic Swordsmanship Lv1], and later upgraded it to Lv2 using the Gold Dragons snatched back from Stole.
But clearly, this improvement wasn't enough to defeat Walton, one of the best in the Dreadfort.
Although he didn't lose the battle just now, his strength and speed were far inferior to the opponent's, relying entirely on the enhancement of [Insight Lv1] and his years of surgical experience to barely hold on.
Fortunately, Walton was indeed a very good sparring partner. Through the fight just now, he could already integrate some of his own understanding into the swordsmanship taught by Brienne.
"Damn it!"
Looking at Corleone's excited eyes, Walton couldn't help cursing inwardly.
He didn't know Corleone was already a spent arrow, just surprised at the opponent's speed of improvement.
If this continued, could it be that he, "Steelshanks" Walton, would really be defeated by a beginner?
Can't tangle with him anymore!
Gritting his teeth, Walton roared, then exploded with full strength. Holding the blade tightly with both hands, a heavy horizontal sweep went straight for Corleone's waist.
This strike almost abandoned all defense, purely for offense!
After all, previously, due to contempt for the opponent's swordsmanship, he entered a misunderstanding, which was to rely solely on swordsmanship to duel Corleone, ignoring his equipment advantage.
You must know, Walton was almost fully armored against unarmored!
Under this desperate fighting style, even if Corleone's blade pierced his torso, the damage caused would be very limited.
And as long as he hit once, the best outcome for Corleone would be immediate loss of combat capability!
Walton wanted to use this trade-injury-for-injury style to thoroughly crush his opponent!
This strike... unavoidable!
However, just when Walton thought this was a sure win.
In a trance, he saw.
Under the moonlight, a gold coin slowly rose into the air...
Ding~~~~