Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 985 - 48 Another Hunt (4)
Chapter 985 -48 Another Hunt (4)
[In the center of the hunting ground]
Siegfried was approaching his limit, with each muscle tearing agonizingly, and every breath felt as though it would burst his chest.
The wild bull displayed not a hint of fatigue, seemingly possessing infinite stamina.
Its neck was safeguarded by high-raised tendons and thick fur, making it impenetrable.
Moreover, the brute was exceedingly adept at using its massive, sharp horns. It dodged left and right, bowing its head as if to retreat one second, and fiercely lunging upward the next.
No sooner had the spearhead pierced the bull’s thick skin than its horns were once again targeting the human, not giving any chance for exploitation.
Thus, Siegfried could only inflict one shallow wound after another on the bull’s neck, unable to deliver a fatal blow.
Some began to discern the facts: the wild bull that Earl Harlan was wrestling, although slightly smaller than Little Hernan’s, was incomparably more ferocious and dangerous than the latter.
How is this a beast without intelligence? It is clearly a formidable Gladiator wielding daggers, weighing half a ton.
After a brief and fierce struggle, Siegfried seized the opportunity to distance himself, and man and beast once again stood in silent confrontation.
The Castile nobles cheered thunderously, while a persistent fog of doubt hung over the grandstand of the princes: “How dare the Castilians bring such a beast into the arena?! Do they truly wish to slaughter His Majesty’s beloved officer in public?”
…
The blond Knight in the center of the hunt knew not what others were thinking, nor did he care.
When numerous nobles had already lamented in advance or reveled in schadenfreude, Siegfried had entered an extremely heightened state of excitement.
The pain of his body and the fierceness of his opponent stimulated Siegfried’s desire to win a thousandfold, even enabling him to transcend his own limits and think.
High-intensity combat depleted stamina and energy far faster than aerobic exercise.
Siegfried assessed his own condition with an icy composure: one more battle, and he might not even have the strength to escape pursuit, while the wild bull in front of him could fight for at least ten more rounds.
But ten rounds were no different from one, because Siegfried had already seen through the opponent’s range of attack and patterns of movement.
All he needed was one opportunity, one chance to cut the opponent’s artery and windpipe with a single strike.
This was it, Siegfried coiled his body, gathering strength.
He tapped the ground with the spear tip, and the bull charged instantly.
Like a spring compressed to its limit and suddenly released, Siegfried deftly dodged to the left—he was left-handed—and thrust his spear with lightning speed.
The power transmitted from Siegfried’s lower limbs, waist, pectorals, and arms to the very tip of the spear, piercing toward the bull’s neck in a ruthless, perfectly straight line.
This time he didn’t pull back, driving the spear with a do-or-die determination.
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The spear sank into the bull’s neck as smoothly as if it had entered cream, the blade disappearing entirely.
But in the next moment, the bull’s massive frame twisted around, slamming into the spear shaft with an unrivaled force.
The power recoiled back to Siegfried’s end, the shaft slipping from Siegfried’s grasp and striking his chest hard.
The walnut wood spear shaft, a handspan thick, snapped with a sound, the front half breaking out from the wound in the bull’s neck, the remaining half held in Siegfried’s embrace.
The confrontation took place in the blink of an eye and ended just as quickly.
Most of the nobles didn’t catch what had occurred, only to see the giant bull twist its head and the golden-haired “beauty” was flung away.
A collective gasp arose from the crowd encircling the oval hunting ground, and from the royal stand came a shrill scream.
Intense pain drove the wild bull into a frenzied rage; it lowered its horns and charged at the man lying on the ground.
As it seemed the Emperor’s favored knight would not even leave an intact corpse, the body in the center of the hunting ground moved—Siegfried was not dead, he stubbornly attempted to block the horns with the rear half of the spear shaft.
However, with a toss of its head, the wild bull hurled the golden-haired “beauty” like a sack of flour, sending him flying once more.
This time, even the remaining half of the spear handle slipped from his hands.
Siegfried landed hard, and in that moment, time seemed to slow: a father lost to drink, a weeping mother, the royal estate that took in an orphan, Elizabeth’s smile like a crescent moon, the battlefield where death reigned, Farnan pulled from a pile of corpses, the fiery Cavalry charging across the snowy white expanse…
In the end, there was only a hint of regret and a wealth of apologies.
Siegfried let out a gentle sigh, probably his first sigh in life, and then he closed his eyes.
“Thud”.
“Thud”.
“Thud”.
The sound of striking a Shield? And someone shouting loudly?
Then came the sound of horse hooves, rapidly approaching; the sound of bull hooves, on the other hand, grew more distant. Accompanying the sound of hooves was a series of crisp and pleasant jingling bells.
Onlookers outside the enclosure saw only the maddened bull, inexplicably forsaking Earl Harlan, turning and charging straight for the enclosure. A dozen nobles faced with the wild bull were caught off guard and scattered in fear.
Just then, a silver steed leaped into the hunting ground with a knight in regalia on its back, holding an inverted lance with a little triangular flag fluttering below its tip.
The bull immediately turned and charged at the silver-horsed knight.
Seeing that he had successfully drawn the bull’s attention, the silver-horsed knight casually led the bull towards the other side of the arena.
Based solely on the knight’s illustrious riding and beast control, the Castile nobles present would not mistake his identity—Little Hernan, the best Gladiator on the Castile Peninsula.