With that, Fatis put on his huge helmet for the game, flattened his riding spear, raised his kite-shaped shield, and prepared himself to charge.

On the other hand, old Benoit is still the same as before, motionless, only the old horse under his crotch moves his hooves from time to time.

Fatis looked at his old father, breathing heavily, suppressing his heartbeat as much as he could.

Fatis is 26 years old and his father is 48 years old. Although the other nobles called his father old Benoit, it was more an affirmation of his life's achievements than what he had really aged.

Phatis did not dare to claim that he had an advantage in strength, and in terms of technique, his fighting skills were basically taught by his father.

So even though the opponent was his biological father, Fatis still didn't dare to relax a little.

"Father, I've let you down......"

Fatis was full of guilt, and the victory or defeat of the battle no longer meant anything to him.

Despite this, Fatis clamped his legs, and the training horse under his crotch neighed and began to run.

"As an elder brother, I killed my own brother."

"As the eldest son in the family, I betrayed my family."

"As a knight, I forsaken my honor."

Fatis spear in his hand and charged. As he drew closer to his father, the words he recited in his heart grew sadder and sadder.

"Heavenly Father, may your glory grant me forgiveness."

When the distance between Fatis and Old Benoit was only a dozen meters, he had already shouted out the words in his heart, and the audience in the stadium, especially the aristocratic ladies who were watching the game, let out a series of exclamations.

Old Benovat heard his son's half-cry of atonement, shook his head gently, and slapped the old horse on the back of his crotch with his shield when Fattis's rifle was only a dozen meters away from him, and the horse also let out a sharp neigh, and rushed out like a sharp arrow off the string.

This is an old horse brought by Benoit himself, so old that his physical strength is no different from that of a normal traveling horse. However, it still retains excellent explosiveness, and it only takes a few steps to get into the running state, which is perfect for short-range attacks.

The horses on both sides approached quickly, and the riding spear in Benoit's hand had just been put down.

With the violent collision, the shield in Benoit's hand was broken, and Benoit's cavalry spear pierced through Fatis's shield and hit him directly in the shoulder.

Byron's eyes widened, remembering what had just happened.

In the riding competition, the riding spear hits the opponent's shield and scores, so both sides run for the opponent's shield, but they both use all their strength.

Old Benoit was a superior skill, and when the cavalry reached his side, he tilted the shield slightly, allowing the cavalry to pass over the shield and shatter a corner of the edge of the shield. His mounted spear hit the key position of Fathis's shield, and under the huge impact, the simple wooden shield of the game was directly broken in two, and the cavalry spear continued to move forward by inertia, and the fragments of the shield slanted upwards and hit Fatis on the shoulder.

This skill and power is an eye-opener. It is fitting to describe this old knight as "old and strong".

Fatis was shot in the shoulder by Benoit's cavalry gun, and because his father deliberately withdrew his strength at this time, it was not a big deal except for a little pain.

However, the blow caused his body to lose its center of gravity, his foot broke off the horse's pedal, and the whole person fell off the horse's back.

There was silence for a moment, but soon there was a burst of cheers. As was normal in the race, after Fatis fell, Benoit had already scored the highest score and the outcome was decided.

However, old Benoit did not come to win, he ignored the cheers of the audience and the referee's ruling, got off his horse, drew his long sword, and walked straight in front of Fatis.

"There is progress, but it is not enough."

Old Benoit looked at his son who had fallen to the ground with a blank face, and held out his hand to him.

"The battle isn't over yet, get up."

Fatis looked at his father's outstretched hand and was stunned for a moment, but he quickly stretched out his hand and took his father's hand and got up from the ground.

Almost at the same time, the two released their hands and raised their swords.

The cheers in the arena gradually became quiet, and the audience whispered about the next battle between father and son, and only a few people, such as Byron and Count Craggs, still had their previous expressions and knew the secret of this battle.

Benoit took the initiative after watching for a moment, his sword was fast, steady, and powerful, and it didn't look like a man who was nearly half a hundred years old could do it.

Fatis had been at a disadvantage in the first few swords, and was constantly retreating by his own father.

"That's all you can do? Or is it your guilt that keeps you from doing it? ”

While attacking, old Benoit did not forget to reproach Fatis.

"You beg Heavenly Father to forgive you for your sins, but you don't dare to face your past, like a coward!"

"Running away and dodging is not what you should do, Fatis!"

Benoit's words pierced Fatis like a sharp knife into the heart, and the audience was drawn to the increasingly exciting battles and the general plot of Alma José's play.

Byron also complained in his heart about the strength of this old man, he was obviously fighting, but he could still use his energy to teach his son a lesson, what a powerful parent.

"You're right, father."

As he was about to be cornered by old Benoit, Fatis finally raised his head, his gaze more determined than ever.

He pushed his father's sword away with all his might, turning it sideways before the other could attack again, sliding down the side of Benoit Sr. to the hilt, crushing his father's sword to the ground.

Then he suddenly let go, picked up a fragment of the shield from the ground that had fallen on the ram of the rifle with one hand, and placed it above his head to block the sword that old Benoit had slashed downward, and with the other he raised the sword upwards in one hand, stopping at the throat of his father.

This was not the modest knightly swordsmanship commonly used in the kingdom of Svadia, which was more deceptive, nimble and adventurous, having learned from Master Friel when Fatis was in the north.

"Good boy."

The corners of Old Benoit's mouth turned upward, and he leaned back and kicked the sword in Fatis's hand away.

Obviously, this style of fighting is closer to a seasoned mercenary than to a knight of the kingdom who values glory and chivalry.

"Son, you've made great progress."

Count Benoit held out his hand, and Fatis immediately grasped it.

"Father, I ......"

"You will always be my son, and you will always be the heir to House Randall. I am saddened by your brother's departure, and it has also made me know that I should cherish the rest of my family, and I am sure you understand. ”

"Yes, father, I want you to know that I have been through a lot during this time, and I have not been ashamed of myself and my family at all."

Fatis regained his spirits, and his eyes moistened a lot.

"Of course, we can have a good chat for as long as we want."

The father patted his son on the shoulder, greeted the applause with him, and walked with him to the audience.

There will be no more father-son pair in the next races, and they have already won back something more precious than the dinar and the title.