In Britain, the Noble Phantasm: Divine Key

Recalling his mothers' teachings and what he had seen and heard during this time, Lancelot found that this feeling could perhaps be described as...longing?

But what exactly is he yearning for?

Lancelot's gaze unconsciously shifted to the figure at the front. The morning sunlight shone on the silver armor, making it shine like stars.

—In that instant, it was as if time itself had stopped flowing, leaving only that dazzling figure, deeply imprinted in the depths of those pale purple eyes.

.....

.....

After leaving Lucammons, Yanan led his troops toward Camelot.

To everyone's surprise, whenever they entered a town, they would find that the local residents had spontaneously organized themselves to line both sides of the road to welcome them, as if they had been waiting for a long time. Some even presented them with local specialties, and some wealthy merchants specially gave them various valuable treasures.

Although Yanan had anticipated such a situation, even he hadn't expected that the victory in this war would excite the people of Camelot to such an extent.

Besides ordinary people, even the nobles who were once high and mighty set aside their status and came to greet Yanan in person, their words and actions full of reverence.

Two months ago, they had looked down on the new king, thinking he was just a country bumpkin who had pulled the sword out of the stone by sheer luck. But now, looking at the legendary Three Hundred Knights who had supposedly defeated an army of 20,000, no one dared to show any disrespect or contempt to the new king.

Just as Yanan had said before, to intimidate these arrogant nobles, one must demonstrate strength sufficient to completely crush them.

In fact, from the very first day they left Lucammons, countless eyes lurking in the shadows were focused on this team.

The victory at the Battle of the Great Plains has made everyone acutely aware of the terror of this new king. They are also well aware that the moment he steps into Camelot, the country will undergo earth-shattering changes, and their respective stances will determine their future in the country.

Some people are still observing from the sidelines, while others have already made their choices.

......

......

After marching for five days, Anan's army encountered a force.

“That’s… the Griffin Banner of the Marco family,” Bedwell exclaimed in surprise, recognizing the army’s origins immediately.

As he looked at the griffin totem engraved on the banner fluttering in the wind, Yanan's eyes narrowed slightly.

“Your Majesty, the Knights are ready to charge at any time, given your command,” Lanmarok said earnestly.

“Don’t be so nervous, Lanmarok.” Yanan shook his head, a meaningful smile curving his lips. “Sometimes, what stands in your way isn’t necessarily an enemy.”

As if to confirm his words, a man with fiery red hair suddenly rode towards them from the opposing army. When they were about ten meters apart, the man dismounted, walked to Anan, knelt on one knee, and said respectfully:

“Knight Tristan, by order of the Duke of Cornwall, awaits Your Majesty. Please allow me to escort you to Camelot.”

Anan tilted his head, sizing up the legendary Sorrowful Knight before him.

Just as depicted in the story, this knight, who had encountered various misfortunes since birth, did indeed have a handsome face and a melancholy temperament. He looked nothing like a knight, but rather like a sentimental poet.

However, if anyone underestimates him because of this, they will probably pay a heavy price.

Even within the Round Table, Tristan possesses unparalleled strength.

However, due to his past experiences, this guy always has an unusually negative view of everything, and he only considers the worst-case scenario.

This attitude also subtly influences others around them.

The phrase that once cast a shadow over Artoria's life, "The king doesn't understand people's hearts," came from the mouth of this sorrowful knight.

Chapter 58 Tristan's Shock

“Tristan?” Bedwell was slightly taken aback. “I didn’t expect Duke Marco to actually send him out.”

"Is this person very famous?" Kai asked doubtfully, and Artoria also cast a curious glance at him.

“Well… how should I put it? It’s mainly because Tristan’s experiences are a bit bizarre.” Bedwell scratched his head and sighed. “It is said that Tristan’s father was killed on the battlefield as soon as he was born, and his mother died in childbirth after giving birth to him. Then he was given to his uncle, Duke Marco, to raise.”

"This is too tragic." Kai's lips twitched slightly.

“However, Tristan is indeed a knight of considerable skill. He once defeated Mahans, a knight from Ireland, who is said to have fought against Lanmarok.” Bedwell looked at Lanmarok beside him.

Lanmarok nodded without changing his expression: "I did go to Ireland to challenge Mahans, and I lost that battle."

A hint of surprise appeared in Kai and Artoria's eyes. To be able to defeat the knight who had once defeated Lanmarok, it seemed that this Tristan was indeed no ordinary person.

"So, can you defeat that Mahans now?" Lancelot asked.

“If Ma Hans hasn’t made any progress over the years, then I will kill him within three shots,” Lanmarok said calmly.

A hint of envy flickered in Bedivere's eyes; this intense confidence in his own martial arts skills was something he had once desperately longed to possess.

Unfortunately, having lost an arm, he was destined not to go very far on this path.

However, that's all in the past.

Bedivere silently recited the words to himself, looking at his right hand. The gleaming silver armor reflected the sunlight with a light that was almost blinding.

While Yanan pondered how to win Tristan over from Duke Marco, the latter also quietly raised his head to observe the newly rising king.

This was a mission entrusted to him by his uncle, Duke Marco. Since he was prepared to tie himself to the same boat as the new king, he at least had to understand what kind of person the other party was.

Tristan himself was also very curious about what was so special about this legendary King Arthur.

He slightly opened his eyes a crack and met those deep, dark pupils.

In that instant, images flashed before his eyes: a man covered in wounds lay on the battlefield, his bewildered eyes staring ahead, weakly calling out his wife's name; a graceful noblewoman stroked her infant child with blood-stained hands, a pale smile appearing on her face, before slowly closing her eyes and falling silent.

Tristan trembled all over. This was the nightmare that had woken him up countless times in the middle of the night, and the shadow of misfortune that had shrouded his life!

An indescribable sadness overwhelmed his heart like a tidal wave bursting its banks, and his entire demeanor became increasingly depressed and dejected.

At that moment, a crimson feather flashed past his eyes, and all his negative emotions vanished in an instant.

Tristan paused slightly, then heard a soft chuckle in his ear:

“My Lord Tristan, it is a very dangerous thing to look me in the eye without permission.”

He subconsciously raised his head, and the deep, dark look in his eyes vanished, replaced by a faint, ambiguous smile.

Recalling what had just happened, an overwhelming sense of fear instantly filled Tristan's heart.

"I apologize, Your Majesty, please forgive my overstepping of bounds." He lowered his head, his words filled with unprecedented reverence.

A sense of helplessness rose in Yanan's heart. If he hadn't noticed Tristan's strange behavior in time, the sad knight would probably have already committed suicide by sword.

As the awakening of his Black Dragon body deepens, his life form is gradually approaching that of Nidhogg, and the power of the despairing dragon that devours the world is becoming increasingly evident in him.

Even without activating the Black Dragon's Guardian, simply looking into his eyes can unconsciously remind people of their past tragic experiences, leading to a breakdown of their psychological defenses.

Normally, Yanan would consciously restrain this power to avoid causing trouble, but because he was thinking just now, he was not paying attention and allowed this power to invade Tristan's mental domain.

Tristan's tragic past made his heart exceptionally fragile, and when it was corrupted by the power emanating from Nidhogg, it collapsed almost instantly.

If he hadn't used Feather of Dust to dispel this power in time, Tristan might have truly been trapped in this depressed and sorrowful state of mind forever.

However, judging from Tristan's noticeably more respectful attitude, the outcome of this unintentional mistake seems to be quite good.

"Rise, Lord Tristan. I do not mean to blame you, but I hope this matter will leave a deep enough impression on you," Yanan said with a smile.

A few drops of cold sweat slid down his forehead, and Tristan lowered his head deeply: "Yes, Your Majesty."

He stood up and subconsciously glanced behind Yanan. When he noticed the tall woman in the black and blue dress, his slightly calmed emotions surged up again.

Why is Morgan Lefève here too?!

He was Duke Marco's chief knight and had accompanied him on a visit to the Kingdom of Onic, so he was naturally familiar with the renowned Princess Camelot.

Almost everyone knows how strong Morgan's desire for the throne is. Everyone was wondering why the Kingdom of Orkney hadn't made a move even though the new king had been around for so long. But who would have thought that this princess had already been silently pulled into the new king's camp!

If even a crazy woman like Morgan could be tamed, what kind of monster is this new king?!

This is so sad... Tristan sighed deeply in his heart.

Morgan frowned slightly. She had felt that the name Tristan sounded familiar, but it wasn't until now that she finally remembered that he was the guy who had come to visit the Kingdom of Onic with Duke Marco!

In other words, this guy knew his true identity!

Morgan stared intently at Tristan. If this guy dared to reveal his identity here, she would make him pay the price when they returned to Camelot!

The quick-witted Tristan instantly understood the meaning in Morgan's eyes. Although he didn't quite understand, he nodded slightly to indicate that he understood.

Subsequently, with Yanan's consent, Tristan led his army ahead to escort Yanan's troops.

Ten days later, on the distant horizon, a magnificent city appeared before Anaen's eyes. The tall city walls were all built of white marble, and the majestic palace sat in the center, like a white lion lying on the earth, holy and radiant.

This is Camelot, the chalk city that will never fall!

Chapter Fifty-Nine: Head-to-Head

Around noon, Yanan and the others finally arrived in Camelot.

Observing this chalk city up close, the sense of sacredness becomes even more profound. The tall and magnificent city walls stretch out before you like a majestic mountain peak.

A dazzling light flowed across the city wall, and this familiar feeling was undoubtedly the way the magic circle was operating.

However, compared to Lucamont, Camelot's magic circle was clearly more complex and massive. Even a mere wisp of its aura was enough to make one feel the vast magical fluctuations.

"How about it? Can you feel the power of this magic circle? Let me tell you, this magic circle was created by the greatest magician in British history. It can easily withstand even attacks from gods," Merlin said proudly.

“The greatest magician of all time is actually yourself, isn’t he?” Yanan glanced at him sideways.

"As expected of Your Majesty, your discerning eyes are as bright as ever," Merlin said with a smile.

Anan shook his head helplessly, and suddenly Nidhogg's mutterings echoed in his mind:

"Is this really a city built by humankind through their own efforts? It gives me the feeling of facing Odin's golden palace."

Looking at the vast and magnificent city before her, Nidhogg was filled with deep astonishment, because she realized that even if her true form were to take action, she could not say that she was 100% certain of being able to destroy the city.

During the thousands of years she was trapped in the land of the Norse gods, what exactly did humanity develop?

As Yanan's party continued forward, they could see from afar that hundreds of richly dressed and distinguished nobles stood at the city gate.

“The one standing at the very front is Feuerius,” Morgan’s voice reached his ears.

Yanan focused his gaze on the old man at the front. He was dressed in simple casual clothes and looked no different from an ordinary commoner. Although his hair was still gray and his face was covered with deep wrinkles, his back was still straight and his gray-brown eyes were as clear as a mirror.

He possessed the aura of someone in a high position. Even when he stood still, he exuded an invisible pressure. No matter how the other nobles around him wore the most magnificent clothes and the most luxurious jewelry, they could not overshadow the old man's imposing presence.

Anan sighed softly in his heart. As expected of the minister entrusted with the important task of guarding the country by King Uther before his death.

“Many of those guys know who I am, so I can’t go in with you. I’ll contact you again once we’re in Camelot,” Morgan said.