The martial arts tournament has officially begun, and the lively atmosphere is enough to excite even the most sluggish worm on the roadside trees.

  That civilian hero in the heart, the champion hot Rodhart knight with superb swordsmanship and agility all the way through the levels, each time winning exceptionally beautifully and easily. His extraordinary momentum and demeanor made the originally enthusiastic cheers even more enthusiastic. Fully in line with the wishes of the crowd, he smoothly entered the final.

  A majestic procession arrived at the square, and the originally crowded crowd immediately made way for a spacious path. The door of a magnificent carriage in the middle opened, and everyone on the square knelt down to pay homage to Bishop Ronis and His Majesty Emperor Gefenhardt XVII.

  Many officials and ministers also came, this kind of semi-popular activity would make the emperor's mood very good, accompanying him would not be a bad thing, especially at this time when it was time to please His Majesty. And naturally, the prime minister who was closest to His Majesty was also among them.

  "Hasn't Duke Mraak arrived yet?" The prime minister asked, looking around.

  "These past few days, no one has been seen, probably busy with official duties. If it's really going to be a change of command this time, he's most likely to replace General Sanders. It's also good to make early preparations. But this guy missed an opportunity to curry favor with the Emperor. What a brave but imprudent move, haha." A minister from the Ernie family replied. "However, if Stong can get the championship and enter the military this time, it would be great, we wouldn't have to rely too much on that Muraq guy either."

  The aristocratic families all believe in the saying "blood is thicker than water". If they can, they would rather have all the positions and power that can be grasped to be controlled by their own blood relatives. Even someone like Duke Mlak, who had to be united with, must be tied through marriage, so that his descendants' veins also flow with the blood of their own family, and thus become "one of us" through this means. As if only this kind of physical connection is the foundation for building trust and unity in the world.

  The Prime Minister furrowed his brow and nodded slightly. Duke Mlak had always been known for his good temper, good relationships, and strong abilities, but not for playing politics. However, the Prime Minister had never quite liked this seemingly benevolent man who appeared to be easily manipulated. Although he couldn't see him plotting any schemes or intentionally creating trouble, perhaps due to a politician's intuition, he always felt that there was something off about him. Moreover, this person who now held the noble title of "Duke" actually came from a humble background and had only risen to his current position through ability and seemingly good luck. Although he was now one of their own, he wasn't worth entrusting with too much trust or dependence.

  It's said that this knight, Rodhart, has some connection with the Duke, but it seems like that country bumpkin is too focused on his official duties and didn't grasp the talent properly. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been bought off so easily. Buying him off was a very risky move; if word gets out and those military guys get their hands on it, it won't be a laughing matter. The Holy Knights' election as the empire's central power can't afford to be even slightly ambiguous. If they're accused of corruption and shaking the empire's foundations, that would be trouble. The key is that the current situation necessitates taking risks. Suddenly, out of nowhere, someone appeared at the Archbishop's place and pushed his son out of the divine officer position. If war breaks out in the west, it'll be a great opportunity to build military achievements as political capital - that's the key to winning or losing this political struggle. So, there was no choice but to take a risk and find an opportunity to negotiate with that knight; fortunately, the result was satisfactory.

  His Imperial Majesty and Archbishop and Colonel Roland took their seats, the kings and ministers also sat down one after another, and the final match officially began.

  The first to take the stage was a Strong Orc Knight. His robust muscles were exposed outside of his armor, and his ferocious expression seemed to be made up entirely of those muscles, even on his face. He held in his hand a massive sword that would still have tremendous killing power even with its scabbard on. This type of build is extremely rare among knights.

  Apart from the applause of some ministers, there were more whispers among the surrounding people. This noble scion had a bad reputation among the commoners in the capital. In recent years, he had been reckless and did many things that were not good, but in the past few years, he seemed to have restrained himself for today's selection meeting, hiding at home and inviting many teachers to receive special training in various aspects, this champion was a must-win.

  Upon hearing the whispers, Sir Strongrock glared around at the countless people with a scowl on his face and let out a low growl. This was a typical simple-minded brute, probably putting all his energy into building those muscles of his.

  Then the hero named Rodhart took the stage. His ash-blonde curly hair and handsome face, although making him look less intimidating, gave him a more approachable appearance. His calm demeanor and eyes that seemed to exude strength and determination made up for his lack of grandeur. He had a very friendly and beautiful smile on his face. He looked like the idol of every young boy and the prince charming in every girl's dreams. He wore simple clothes with a light leather armor, giving off the image of a civilian warrior, as if he didn't take his opponents' attacks seriously at all. In fact, since the start of the competition, he hadn't been hit by any opponent.

  Thunderous applause and cheers were given to this hero in the eyes of the masses.

  Rothhart's elegance made Strongk's brutality seem like it was born to be a foil. Strongk glared at him, barely restraining himself from charging over and chopping the handsome knight into mincemeat. Though he knew this would be an opponent who could beat him in a match, he already had the feeling of defeat, and his killing intent was palpable.

  Ant people.

  The prime minister heard the cheers and silently cursed in his heart. These insignificant, lower-class people living at the bottom of society, thinking they are something, unwilling to be controlled by power yet unable to fight back or resist, so they believe in heroes who can defy power, geniuses who can resist social mechanisms. But they don't know that everything in this society is decided by those in power, including beliefs, passions, lifestyles, and even the hero who embodies their dreams, isn't he also arranged by those in power? In this world, only those in power are true heroes.

  "Ah, this knight really looks great, doesn't he? He's so handsome and good-looking." The Emperor himself also showed a strong interest. "I've even heard that he once single-handedly charged into a beastman's lair, not only rescuing Duke Mlak's daughter but also killing thousands of those savage beastmen without leaving a single one alive. How impressive! Truly a hero emerges in his youth. And I've also heard that he's from a commoner background, how remarkable!" Later on, the Emperor's face seemed to take on a slightly strange expression, as if he was feeling a bit envious.

  Grefenhardt the 17th is twenty years old this year, with a face that fully explains his personality being gentle and somewhat feminized. It's hard to believe he's a hero who rose to fame overnight, but he's likable nonetheless. He doesn't seem like someone suited to ruling a country - the comfortable and peaceful life of royalty has made his mindset no different from an average young person, perhaps even more immature and shallow. There was even an incident where he snuck out of the palace when he was younger to follow a traveling circus troupe. And apparently, just the other night, he secretly went to a casino in the capital to have some fun, causing a bit of trouble.

  He was forced to take the throne due to circumstances beyond his control, but he had no interest in such things and instead indulged in frivolous pleasures, viewing politics and military affairs as a troublesome burden. He hastily delegated these tasks to his zealous prime minister, leading to the El'ni family's dominance in court. If not for the presence of loyal veterans from the military faction and the Holy Knights protecting the Grefenhart family, he would have abdicated long ago.

  "Your Majesty is wise. Since Your Majesty has already recognized this as a personal talent, I will also make a bet that this young man will definitely win. Ten gold coins, I wonder if anyone dares to take the challenge?" The prime minister said, looking around at the other officials.

  No one responded to his bet, the military personnel ignored him, and his companions knew he was just bluffing.

  "That Sir Stronggag knight seems to be your nephew, doesn't he? It's really pitiful that even his own uncle looks down on him like that. Alright then, let me cheer him on a bit. I bet on him winning, ten gold coins." The Emperor is quite sympathetic.

  "I'll thank Your Majesty for him then. I hope Your Majesty's boundless good fortune will bring him good luck."

  "Hehe, I remember that whenever I gambled with you, my luck was always extremely good." The Emperor smiled naively.

  With the sound of a gong, the match officially began. The people in the stands and on the ground around him started shouting Roddick's name, and under this huge cheer, Roddick quickly took the upper hand.

  Ah Sa sighed, he really didn't want to see this great hope turn into a huge disappointment. He wanted to go back, turned around and happened to see a very large dwarf struggling in the crowd, squeezed under a person sitting on a low wall and pulled his foot saying: "Give me your seat."

  The person who owns this good position is obviously unwilling to give up their privilege, and with a glare of the eye says: "Why?"

  "Because you want it." The dwarf's short fingers held a silver coin, which he jingled. The man immediately yielded to this very powerful argument and jumped down from the low wall, respectfully presenting his own throne.

  Few dwarves have such an air about them, and none of the other dwarves had a head as large or a quacking voice like that. Asa squeezed past to greet him: "Baruk Khagan, good day."

  "Ah, Ambassador, what a coincidence. Have you returned from that damned Beastman city already?" Two months hadn't changed the local official of Brakada one bit. He spryly jumped up onto the low wall with ease.

  "I'm no longer any kind of envoy, just call me Asa." Asa walked to the foot of the low wall. "I was just about to head back, didn't expect to run into you here."

  "Why go back? Isn't that your friend on stage? Don't you want to see him win the championship?"

  Asa smiled wryly and said, "Unfortunately, I dare bet that he will definitely not get the championship."

  "Unbelievable?" Mr. Polukhin's bushy eyebrows furrowed again. "I think he should win the championship, so let's bet a few bucks on him. Anyway, I've already placed my bets on him over there."

  "I don't want to win your money," Asa said.

  "Pity I'd love to win your money though." The former Brakada local official licked his lips, revealing a set of neat yellow teeth.

  On the stage, Rodhart was pressing down on Strong with a flurry of swift sword strikes, leaving him only able to defend. If not for the several blessing spells that Strong had cast on himself at the beginning, he would have already been knocked out by now. The high-priced magicians, driven by huge economic interests, had finally managed to drill a few basic spells into his head, and it was hard not to admit that this was an impressive achievement.

  Rodehart didn't have this treatment, he wouldn't use any auxiliary magic, but the tsunami-like cheers and chants around him made up for it. It was as if every attack he made carried the wishes of his supporters, making it extremely difficult for his opponent to block. However, Stronk's skills were also quite strong, and with the help of these magics, even a real head-on battle against Rodehart wouldn't necessarily guarantee a full victory.

  The two men's powers were evenly matched, making this a truly spectacular and all-out battle. Even Asa couldn't see any openings in their every move, every gesture, and he had to admit that Rodhart was not only gifted as a knight but also had the potential of an actor.

  Stark's defense revealed a small gap, and Rodhart kicked him in the face at the risk of being hit by the giant sword. Amidst the thunderous cheers, the muscular knight turned into a rolling gourd, and when he got up, his nosebleed and fierce light in his eyes burst out together.

  Enraged and in pain, Saitō let out a loud roar and swung his massive sword at Rodhart with all his might. It was clear that he was going all-out, the air currents generated by the swinging sword even causing the faces of the spectators below to sting. However, amidst this frenzied attack, Rodhart remained calm and composed, dodging and retreating in a measured manner, slowly moving towards the left side of the stage. Anyone could see that he was conserving his strength, knowing that such a frantic offense couldn't be sustained for much longer. As soon as his opponent's momentum weakened, he would immediately launch a counterattack. But Arceus knew that this counterattack would fail due to an unexpected factor.

  What a great show. The intelligent and brave knight successfully enraged his opponent, causing him to lose his mind and launch a crazy attack without regard for his physical strength. However, just as he was about to counterattack, his body suddenly lost control slightly, and unfortunately, he was hit and suffered some minor injuries, losing the match. It wasn't until afterwards that it was discovered that there was a loose wooden board on the floor, which naturally caused the knight to lose his balance when he stepped on it with one foot. However, this couldn't be helped, as the outcome of the competition could no longer be changed, and everyone could only lament together that this hero's luck was really too bad.

  Asa began to think Roddick had a gift for writing or playmaking.

  In the chilly sword wind, Rodehart had already retreated to the edge of the stage. Even an outsider could see that Stronger's physical strength was beginning to show signs of weakness. The long-awaited hero's counterattack was about to unfold.

  But just at this thrilling moment, the hero's body suddenly tilted slightly and lost its balance. The vicious opponent would not let go of such a good opportunity, and the giant sword chopped towards him with a fierce wind. The screams from the audience erupted into a piece.

  Asa was shocked. Although the giant sword had a protective cover on it, such a forceful attack would be enough to cause serious injury or even death. This was no longer part of the pre-arranged performance; his opponent was truly out to kill Rodhart. He was now too far from the stage, and there were too many people in between, so even if he wanted to intervene, it was already too late.

  But completely beyond his expectation, Rodhart's waist suddenly softened, and his entire upper body bent backwards, forming an arc shape. The upper body was already suspended in the air outside the ring, while his feet were still on the ring. That deadly sword only grazed his abdomen.

  Si Qiangke looked at this must-win situation, only to see his opponent dodge the sword that was supposed to be the final blow. This was not what he had planned, and for a moment, he was stunned and stood there frozen.

  Rothbart took the opportunity to bounce back, his sword hilt heavily hitting his opponent's face with a dull thud, and Strongk rolled backward again. But when he got up with his bleeding face, Rothbart's sword was already on his neck. The outcome was decided.

  "Your luck is not bad today, my dear. You've finally won against me once." The Emperor smiled and glanced at the winner beside him. Meanwhile, the Prime Minister's face turned pale, this sudden stroke of luck leaving him shocked and enraged.

  "The champion of this knight selection conference is... Rodhart Knight." The official announced the result in a dramatic tone, dragging out his voice.

  With cheers and applause, Rodhart sheathed the sword that had been placed on Strong's broad shoulders. With the elegance of a victor, he performed a standard knightly courtesy to the defeated man, then turned around and knelt down in front of the Emperor's and Archbishop's viewing platform.

  Si Qiang Ke was still standing there like a stone statue. Astonishment, anger at failure, and humiliation all crowded into his mind, making his originally not very intelligent brain even more confused, completely unable to distinguish what was happening. But when he saw this opponent make a gesture of triumph towards him, smile complacently, and then turn around to show him his back, his hatred and hostility were thoroughly aroused, and he raised his giant sword to stab at his back. The people in the stands and under the stage all cried out in surprise.

  The hero would never be felled by such a sneak attack from behind. Rodhart dodged to the side and what looked like a defensive elbow strike caught Strongg in the face. Strongg let out a loud, boar-like bellow that couldn't cover up the sharp cracking sound of breaking bone. He flew backward and lay motionless on the mat.

  The prime minister stood up with a pale face. However, his self-control and rationality were obviously much higher than those of his nephew, and he slowly sat down again. The emperor frowned and shook his head slowly: "Losing is just losing, how can you be like this? It's really too un-knightly."

  "Your Majesty is right. This not only violates the basic spirit of chivalry, but also proves the filth in this person's soul. A person lacking even the most basic morals, I think, is absolutely unsuitable to join the glorious and important organization of the Holy Knights." Roland, the captain standing beside the Emperor, said coldly. The Empire's number one swordsman had a rather thin face, as if he were just a scholar who devoted himself to studying, with only occasional flashes of light in his eyes; his grey-white hair and beard made him look much older than his actual age. "I hereby declare that he is disqualified from entering the Holy Knights."

  The prime minister's whole body was trembling slightly. Not only did he fail to steal the chicken, but he also lost a handful of rice. Moreover, if this little brat caught him and turned the tables on him, he might even have his rice jar smashed.

  Asa felt like his eardrums were about to burst from the cheers around him. Lord Polukin rudely snatched a few silver coins from his hand and shouted loudly, "I don't even know why you thought your friend would lose."

  "I don't know why either." Asa shook his head in astonishment.