I, Guinevere, am going to crush you, you curry stick, today!

“Not one, but two. Although you are indeed highly skilled, Sir, I am confident that I will not lose to anyone in archery.”

The young man said confidently, "Watch closely, I'm going to shoot the third bird in the left eye, and the fifth bird in the left wing—"

……

P.S.: Please vote!

Chapter Seventy-Nine: One Arrow Pierces the Mountain

The three quietly followed the boy carrying a bow and arrows, winding their way through the area for a while. After passing two opposing rocks, the view suddenly opened up before them. It was an empty little hilltop, the sky ablaze with red clouds, a gentle evening breeze blowing, and several birds flying in a line from the setting sun halfway up the hill.

They also saw the two people talking.

“Watch closely, I will shoot the third bird in the right eye and the fifth bird in the left wing—” The young man in his early twenties, dressed as a novice knight, was speaking. He had a sword at his waist, a longbow in his hand, and a quiver on his back with the lid open, revealing more than a dozen arrows inside.

The other man, however, had graying hair and beard, and appeared to be at least sixty years old. He was a robust man with a majestic, lion-like beard, his sideburns neatly trimmed. His long hair, seemingly neglected for years, cascaded haphazardly over his shoulders. He wore no armor, but rather a dark shirt with the chest open, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his bulging muscles and countless scars of varying sizes, some new and some old. The most striking scar stretched across his entire chest, and although it had long since healed, it still looked out of place against the surrounding skin, resembling a white centipede lying there.

After the young man with the bow and arrow finished speaking, he was about to take out an arrow when Guinevere and the other two stopped and watched the boy continue forward, wondering about the relationship between the three. On the other side, the old man with graying temples raised his hand and pressed it down: "Wait, answer me a question first."

"Ok?"

As the distant birds drew closer, the young man paused, his fingertips already resting on the arrow, and looked away: "Sir, is there anything else you'd like to say?"

"If you can really shoot down these two birds..."

"Of course I can!"

Thinking the other person was questioning his skills, the young man immediately retorted. The old man shook his head: "What I want to ask is, if you really shot those two birds down, what do you plan to do with them?"

"deal with?"

"Humans and beasts are essentially no different. Killing for survival, for some purpose—this is the most primal rule of the universe. But beasts won't attack and kill other creatures unless they feel hungry. If you have something that must be accomplished by shooting these two birds, then go ahead and do it; if not…"

The old man beckoned to the approaching youth, and went over, taking the massive bow, over two meters long, with one hand. The moment he grasped it, the old man's right arm suddenly sank downwards, veins bulging, making it appear as if it had thickened considerably. Due to the angle, the young man didn't notice this subtle change, but Guinevere, standing a little further away, witnessed the entire scene.

This old man is no ordinary person...

The old man continued, "Then let me shoot first." Who went first was originally a trivial matter. Since he had spoken, the young man seemed unwilling to argue about such a thing, so he nodded, released his grip on the arrow, lowered his longbow, and took a step back. The flock of birds drew closer, gradually emerging from the warm red glow of the setting sun; sand swirled in the wind.

"I wonder what the Jazz's goals are?"

"The goal?"

The old man chuckled, turned his head, casually glanced around, picked up an arrow from the boy beside him, and pointed westward as if by chance: "There it is." The young man looked in that direction, then couldn't help but pause in surprise: "But there... there's nothing there." In that direction, there was no end in sight, no trees, no birds, no rocks, only a setting sun hanging halfway up the mountain, its outline barely visible.

The old man didn't answer, but shook his head, raised his giant bow, and slowly stepped back with his left foot. In an instant, it was as if something heavy had crashed to the ground, and the entire ground shook. Amidst the dust and sand that rose up, a small circle of spiderweb-like cracks appeared in the soil beneath the old man's feet.

"call……"

With a slow and long deep breath, the bowstring of the giant bow, as the old man exerted force with his fingertips, gradually opened, emitting a strange roar—a sound that was difficult to describe in words. It was like the roar of some ferocious and terrifying beast, both like earth-shattering thunder and like the howling wind sweeping across the wilderness on a rainy night.

Almost at the same time the sound rang out, the old man's fingertips, which were resting on the bowstring, suddenly lost their color and moisture, becoming as dry and skeletal as a skeleton. Then came his wrists and elbows. In the blink of an eye, his once strong arms, with their veins bulging, became like two pieces of withered wood that would break at the slightest touch. The young man beside him watched in horror, his eyes wide with terror, and almost cried out. But at the last moment, he covered his mouth with his hand, silencing the scream.

The old man remained motionless, seemingly unaware of the terrifying change in himself. He continued to draw back the massive black bow with his withered arms. The bowstring was full, and a cold light gleamed on the arrow—a dark, deep red, like dried blood.

Openly and secretly, everyone's eyes were fixed on this arrow.

From drawing the bow to nocking the arrow, it was only a matter of two or three breaths, but the strange changes that happened to the old man made this time, which should have been incredibly short, feel as long as a whole century.

The great, black bow was finally fully drawn.

The old man took another deep breath, loosened his grip on the arrow's fletching, and—whoosh—

The thunderous sound rose straight into the clouds!

At that moment, it was as if all the surrounding air had been sucked away. After the sharp tremor, there was only silence in their ears. In the silent world, the flock of birds that had been flying from the direction of the setting sun scattered in panic and fled in all directions. A few feathers fell down and were caught in the wind stirred up by the arrow. They paused in the air for a moment and were suddenly pulverized into dust.

The arrow, flashing with a dark red light, didn't stop. Like a dazzling meteor, it shot straight towards the mountain peak hundreds of paces away, bathed in the glow of the setting sun.

Under the watchful eyes of several people, the arrow vanished without a trace, but the mountain seemed to tremble slightly. Centered on a certain point, some powerful force was brewing; even from this distance, Guinevere could feel a needle-like pain pricking her skin…

"This, could it be..."

Realizing a possibility, her expression changed. Without thinking, she instinctively reached out and pulled Lily over. At the same time, the wind mark on the back of her hand shone brightly, and her left index finger quickly drew a triangle, causing a wind wall to suddenly unfold and block the three of them from the large rock beside them.

At the same time, that terrifying power finally erupted inside the mountain. Nearly two or three hundred meters away, half of the mountain peak, the entire mountaintop, was blown apart by this arrow and ceased to exist!

A visible shockwave swept out, carrying countless dust and gravel. Rocks tumbled down, and countless birds scattered in all directions. Even those present felt the earth shake as if it were an earthquake. Caught off guard, the young man fell hard to the ground and rolled away. Fortunately, he was caught by the twelve or thirteen-year-old boy before he rolled off the cliff.

But his longbow and quiver were not so lucky; they were pulled off the cliff by the impact.

Further away, Humberts also lost his balance and crashed headfirst into the sharp corner of the boulder. If Guinevere hadn't set up a wind wall in advance to block it, he would have likely smashed half his head in. Guinevere herself wasn't much better off. At the last moment, she pulled Lily to her side and held her protectively in her arms, but this left her hands unattended, causing her to lose her balance and spin around like a top for who knows how many times. Finally, she managed to stand still, but the whole world was still shaking violently before her eyes.

But the old man who had caused all this remained standing firmly in place, motionless, like a stone statue. He slowly exhaled, and red light flowed across the giant bow, like blood flowing backward, rapidly restoring his two withered arms to normal. Then he looked up at the setting sun, now completely red and unobstructed by the mountains.

"Let's try a different way of competing."

After a while, the apprentice knight, who had been helped to his feet by the boy, realized that the old man was talking to him.

“This cursed magic bow is a treasure I obtained during an adventure.” The old man looked at the giant bow in his hand; “As long as you can draw it—you don’t have to actually shoot an arrow, nor do you have to fully draw the bow, as long as you can move the bowstring slightly, you can get through here.”

"How about it?"

He looked at the disheveled young man.

The latter was pale and bloodless. His lips moved, but he only sighed and shook his head: "No need. No need..." Compared to his earlier high spirits, the young man now looked like he had lost a battle, both in appearance and demeanor, utterly dejected. He sighed again, patted the boy's hand that was supporting him, and when the boy let go, he didn't say thank you, nor did he go to the other side of the cliff to check on his bow and arrows. Instead, he dragged his heavy steps, slowly turned around, and walked in another direction.

The tremor had thrown the two heavy boulders several meters to the side, revealing the three people who had been hiding behind them. The young man didn't even glance in their direction until his figure completely disappeared. The old man's gaze lingered on the young man's back for a moment, until he was completely gone, before turning to look at them: "Now, it's your turn."

Those pale eyebrows furrowed slightly: "You were one of those three from earlier. I should have told you that only by defeating me in a one-on-one duel can you pass through here. So... these two young girls are the strongest among you?"

Having just witnessed the earth-shattering arrow that nearly blasted away half a mountain, Humberts was now filled with fear as he was stared at by that old but sharp gaze, and he couldn't utter a single word.

"Hmm?" the old man asked again in a nasal voice.

"This...this..."

At that moment, Lily reached out to stop her—thanks to Guinevere's protection, she was in the best condition of the three—and used her palm to block the old man's fierce, lion-like gaze. She took a step forward and said, "Sir."

Unsure of the man's identity, she addressed him as "Sir," just as she had addressed the young man earlier. At that time, addressing someone as "Sir" or "Knight" was a sufficiently honorable general title, distinct from a specific rank of nobility. Therefore, even if this old man were indeed a ruler of a nation, calling him "Sir" would not be considered disrespectful.

"I wonder if your promise from earlier is still valid?"

"Oh? Which sentence?"

"As long as we can draw this magic bow, we can get through here." The girl in the white dress pointed to the giant, jet-black bow.

"Of course," the old man nodded.

"In that case—"

Lily replied, "I'm willing to give it a try."

……

P.S.: This chapter also took me almost three hours to write, and I have a headache... I originally wanted to title it "Slicing Down the Mountain with a Basic Attack," but then I thought better of it.

Remember to vote, everyone!

Then Qingbai went to draw lucky bags, deliberately waiting until she finished writing before doing so. With the power of diligence, she hoped to get two lucky bags! If she gets White Lancer Artoria or Medb from the lucky bag, she'll grind like crazy tomorrow!

Chapter Eighty: The People of the Sea

The evening sky was still vast, but it also carried a hint of loneliness.

Amidst the rustling of the waves, a sweet, briny sea breeze blew in from the other side of the horizon. The surroundings gradually darkened, and in the distance, several fishing boats were sailing towards the shore. From time to time, one could hear the rough songs of the fishermen on board. The water shimmered, and white gulls flew overhead.

"...Has Your Highness already made a decision regarding the King's proposal?"

In the small fishing village, figures moved about, and wisps of smoke rose from the chimneys. A man stood on the edge of a sea cliff, listening to the envoy's question, but his gaze remained fixed on the scenery of the fishing village not far away. After a moment, he shook his head.

"Britain is an island. Surrounded by the sea, it has an inseparable relationship with the ocean. This is especially true for these people. They are born and raised by the sea, and both fathers and sons make their living by fishing. They are always covered in the smell of sea breeze and fish. But most of them spend their entire lives within this small area... never truly stepping out of the sea."

"So they are unaware that across this sea lies France—the former province of Gaul. After the empire's rise and fall, it, like Britain, broke away from imperial rule, and beyond that lies the behemoth called Rome. Many people know that the powerful Roman army once crossed the sea and occupied the British Isles for centuries... But only ten years have passed, and the people of this island, focused only on the land and interests before them, have almost forgotten the powerful enemy across the sea."

"...The Imperials will return sooner or later."

The man was about thirty years old, tall and burly, with a bare upper body revealing muscles as solid as marble sculptures, and long, curly silver-blue hair casually draped behind his head. He looked somewhat like a statue of a Greek god.

Having said this, he took a step forward. The cliff was so steep that half of his body was hanging over the edge. Seeing the envoy beside him hurriedly trying to reach out and help him up, he stepped aside, raised the scepter he was holding, and pointed towards the fishing village: "At that time, this place, this place, and this place... everything will be swallowed up by war, becoming unrecognizable to anyone. Many people will die, and much blood will be shed... and all we can do is try to minimize the bloodshed of the British."

"That's why my father embarked on that perilous path. He finally obtained the Poseidon's Halberd and battled the ferocious beast in the deep sea for three days and three nights, successfully slaying it and restoring peace to the ocean. Because my father saved all the fishermen along the coast, people called him the 'Fisherman King' and revered him as a king. Although this azure glow is only a part of the Poseidon's Halberd—"

The messenger's gaze involuntarily fell upon the scepter in the man's hand.

“But as long as it’s not too outrageous, the kings of southern Britain will obey my requests in the name of this scepter. Your master probably chose to approach me instead of Elaine because she believes that the scepter I wield is more valuable than her jewel.”

The envoy's expression changed slightly, but he did not reply, presumably because he truly did not know how to answer that question.

“But your master doesn’t seem to understand why Father split the Trident of Poseidon into three. The ring symbolizes wisdom, the jewel contains mystery, and the scepter represents peace. Elaine has to think about where this land, this country, this island, and this world will go in the future. As for me, Fisher, what I value is—and only now.”

"Vortigern brought in foreign tribes, causing endless war. Over the past ten years, countless people who could have lived have perished because of it. These innocent lives, one by one, are all to be blamed on your master. It's a pity I can't defeat him, otherwise I would have already mustered my troops and attacked. I really didn't expect... Vortigern would actually send someone to demand that I hand over King Arthur. Ha, let's not even talk about not knowing where King Arthur is. Even if I did, such a heroic figure should be invited to the castle immediately for a good drink. He wants me to hand him over... Haha, hahahaha."

The man stood on the edge of the cliff and laughed a few more times. His laughter was hearty, and his smile was sunny and healthy, yet at the same time, the atmosphere around him seemed to suddenly change. The envoy of the lowly king quietly took two steps back, his hand hanging down, silently gripping the concealed short sword—he was no ordinary person, chosen as an envoy by Vortigern, who commanded countless elite soldiers.

With the sword in hand, the words spoken by the man on the throne echoed in his mind once more before his departure: "Pelles' old wounds have not healed, and he has long secluded himself from the world; he is not worth mentioning. The current rulers are nominally the two siblings, but in reality, from beginning to end, the true power has always belonged to the legendary trident from the sea god. If Fisher is a wise man and agrees to cooperate, that would be best. But if he refuses…"

Murder, seize the scepter!

"Kill people and seize power."

Suddenly, a slightly hoarse young woman's voice rang in his ears without warning; he hadn't noticed it at all beforehand. What terrified the envoy even more was that what the voice said was exactly what he had been thinking—word for word!

He turned abruptly, and the voice came from his right, but when he looked around, there was nothing there, not a soul in sight. He saw wisps of smoke rising from chimneys, the sound of waves crashing, and fishermen still singing in the distance. Their songs were bright and cheerful, but against the backdrop of the setting sun, he felt a strange sadness.

"Tsk tsk tsk, a perfectly good knight giving up his profession to become a bandit, what a bad kid..."

The bronze-skinned man, wielding the scepter, remained unmoved, seemingly oblivious to what was happening behind him. The messenger gritted his teeth, recklessly drawing a concealed short sword. The distance between them was such that he didn't even need to take a step; a single thrust would be enough to strike the unsuspecting man's back. This attack was guaranteed to land. As for what the woman's voice was, and whether he could escape unscathed with the scepter after the assassination, all were forgotten in that instant.

"Disobedient naughty child..."

With a flick of his arm, a flash of cold light appeared, and the hoarse voice continued speaking, chuckling softly.

"...You'll get beaten up, you know."

Click!

With a crisp sound, he watched as his right arm, which had just been extended, suddenly and inexplicably broke in two. From the elbow, his forearm seemed to come alive and have its own consciousness. From an unbelievable angle, it thrust the short dagger upwards and, under the terrified gaze of the messenger, forcefully stabbed it into his own chin!

The human bones offered no resistance to the sharp blade, slicing through it as easily as tofu. The blade pierced through and emerged from his forehead, splattering blood and brain matter. The man, his entire head pierced, stood there, swaying slightly, but not yet dead. In a vision of crimson despair, he finally saw the man, who resembled a fisherman, slowly turn his head.

"What a nuisance."

P.S.: This chapter is to make up for yesterday's update. There will be another update later, so remember to vote!

Chapter 81 The Strange Crying

"What a nuisance."

Fisher said something in a neutral tone.

The words were addressed to him, but the intended recipient was clearly not him. The messenger swayed again, finally collapsing backward and falling to the ground. But no one was paying attention to him anymore.

"My dear brother, your sister saved your life, and you won't even say thank you?"

The source of the slightly hoarse female voice remained unknown, drifting and mingling with the continuous sound of waves beneath their feet. Fisher frowned: "Who told you to meddle? These are Vortigern's people."

"Didn't my brother already reject him?"

“Refusing is one thing, but I originally planned to send him back, at least to save face for that lowly king. Now look what happened, I killed his envoy. What if Vortigern gets angry about this and comes charging over with his greatsword?”

“If that’s what you care about, then there’s no need to worry. I can assure you that although the King will be angry about the messenger’s death, he will not take any action because there are more important things for him to attend to right now.”

The woman's voice, sometimes near, sometimes far, laughed and said, "My dear brother, I must remind you that His Majesty the Lowly King's goal is not to dominate all of Britain, nor is it any worldly fame or ambition."

"Besides these things, what else does he care about?"

"Well... didn't you just say that I would think about and plan for the future? As for my dear brother, protecting everything we should protect now is the responsibility you inherited from Father."

“Indeed, then I won’t ask any more questions.” Fisher shook his head, watching the last fishing boat dock and the fishermen on board head towards the fishing village with their catch. A genuine smile appeared on his face. “However, since you can spare some time to take care of me, it means that the condition of that magical beast should be relatively stable?”

"Whether it's stable or not, it's pretty much the same anyway." Although only her voice was heard, one could almost picture a girl spreading her hands and pouting from her tone: "With the ring left by my father, plus my precious pearl, even if it has awakened, it won't be able to break free of the seal anytime soon. But the remaining time is, after all, not much time left—"

Fisher couldn't help but sigh: "Hopefully, we can find a way to restore Father before the seal completely fails. Otherwise, if all else fails, the only option will be for me... or Uncle Perinoa, to try using the Trident of Poseidon."

“You don’t have that ability. As for your uncle… he’s always been most interested in rare and exotic beasts, and he’ll most likely agree happily. But he’s not the one chosen by the Trident of the Sea God. Once it’s used, he’ll surely die. So this can only be the last resort.”

"Yes."

Nodding, Fisher then changed the subject: "One last thing. I heard from others that you seem to have started bullying people again lately?"

"Bullying me? What are you bullying? Who are you bullying? Brother, your words are so harsh and inappropriate!" The woman's voice sounded extremely indignant: "Your sister is already twenty-four years old this year, an old maid who is still unmarried at twenty-four! As her brother, shouldn't you worry more about your sister's important life event?"