The next morning, the Newman family's two carriages sailed into a wooded spot on the outskirts of Tagarvi, a beautiful and seldom-visited area off the road.

Five grown men stand here, they don't have time to enjoy the beauty of autumn, because a bloody killing feast is about to take place here.

The two duelists stood at opposite ends under a large maple tree, the brown-haired and blue-eyed man short and thin, and his opponent was a tall, strong, blonde, blue-eyed young man.

The two of them sorted out their clothes and checked their weapons.

Siska Newman and two bodyguards stand not far away, ready to watch a good show.

It wasn't a fair duel, and Siska was just trying to slowly torture Dali, the last heir to the Einfoot family, in revenge for his son's murder in the same true sword duel.

The surrogate duelist hired by Siska was a tall young man with handsome appearance, his long blonde hair fluttering in the wind, he did not feel nervous at all in the face of the bloody and terrifying real sword duel, but seemed to be in control, there was no trace of fear on his handsome face, and he was confident in his strength.

His name was Tony Foster, nicknamed the "Lightning Sword" in the circle of sword practitioners, and legend has it that he was as fast as lightning and lightning.

He was well known in the county of Helbes, and was one of the most famous swordsmen in the entire continent of Ulassis.

This man is just a poor boy born in the slums, but he is gifted, self-taught, has proven himself in countless fierce and cruel real sword duels, has served many dignitaries, this poor boy with a sword for himself to fight for his current reputation and status, although there is no official title in the swordsmanship circle such as "master of swordsmanship", but his strong strength is still undoubted.

At this moment, the famous swordsman was looking contemptuously at the opponent he was about to face.

Siska paid a high price for the strongest swordsman he could find, and he ordered Tony Foster not to kill Dalí with one blow, but to torture him slowly, Siska wanted to appreciate a slow kill, and he wanted Dalí to die of pain.

(Siska Newman, the old fellow, could have easily executed me, but he agreed to my request for a duel and hired such a top-notch swordsman to be his agent.) ）

Dalí knew very well that his enemies were just trying to play with him.

Knowing that his time was numbered, Dali Einfurt did not give in, and he stood strong, holding the bayonet sword given by his friend, constantly turning his wrists, and dancing several sword flowers in succession, trying to familiarize himself with the weight, balance, and length of the sword as quickly as possible.

Dali neglected to practice swordsmanship when he grew up, and his level was several times worse than that of his younger brother William, even if his younger brother with a strong physique and superb swordsmanship came back to life, it would be difficult to win in the face of such a powerful opponent, let alone a nerd himself.

Dali is well aware of his current situation, half of his body has been in the coffin, he doesn't care about his life, he just wants revenge, and now he has a theoretical last chance to take revenge.

That is, regardless of the duel, he rushed directly to Siska Newman who was watching the battle, and there were two bodyguards by the enemy's side, Dali had already prepared to exchange his life for his life, even if his body was hit by a bullet or pierced by a sword, as long as he did not die immediately, as long as there was still a breath left, he would endure the pain with his will to revenge, and take the life of this great enemy before he died, the old and fat Siska would definitely not escape the blow of his life.

With his plan in mind, Dali's mood stabilized, and he tried to show them that he was seriously preparing for a duel, pretending to take off his shoes to clean the small stones inside, and in the process he slightly adjusted his position to get closer to the enemy.

The blonde swordsman Tony Foster, though young, had experienced the most sinister rivers and lakes since he was a child, and he easily saw through Dalí's thoughts, and said in a playful tone:

"Hey, you dwarf. Don't think I don't know what you're up to. My employer only paid me half of the money, and the other half had to wait until he was satisfied, so I couldn't let you kill him. ”

With that, he strode to the other side of Dali, blocking the path between Dali and the three spectators.

Seeing that his scheming had been seen through, Dali yelled at the blonde swordsman:

"You money-eyed bastard! Where is your conscience in serving such people? Do you know how many unreasonable things he has done? Get out of my way, don't get in my way! ”

"Haha, I've heard a lot of nonsense like yours, I don't want the employer to be impatient to wait, let's start now!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Tony Foster stabbed out his swift first sword, the tip of which struck straight into Dalí's eyes.

Dali hurriedly jumped a step back, but he almost tripped over the protruding roots on the ground, and he staggered to try to stand firm, but stepped on other roots, and his heart sank:

(It's over, it's over, losing your balance in a real sword duel is equivalent to becoming a living target.) ）

The blonde swordsman Tony Foster took advantage of his height and legs, and he could easily catch up with his opponent's retreat with a hard kick backwards, and his sword could have easily stabbed his opponent in the chest or abdomen, but he retracted his sword in the middle of the stab, and stepped back in a graceful posture to regain his footing, and it seemed that he was not in a hurry to settle the fight in one move.

Dali finally regained his balance and did not fall, and re-positioned himself in embarrassment, he knew in his heart that his opponent was playing tricks on him, and he could not win by blindly dodging, and he wanted to take advantage of the enemy's contempt for him to find an opportunity to attack.

The techniques his father had talked about came back to his mind, and he calmly analyzed it, and the opponent's first sword let him know that he was at an absolute disadvantage in terms of movement speed and arm length, and he had to try to hold the straight stab in the middle, forcing the opponent to keep close to him, and luring him to attack his side, so that he could have an effective counterattack.

Having made up his mind, Dali went on the defensive, keeping his eyes fixed on his opponent's bayonet in order to make a precise block to deflect the attack.

The blonde swordsman pursed his lips contemptuously, and then slashed and stabbed more than a dozen swords in a row with the momentum of a storm, without any pause in the middle, his movements were smooth and fluid, and every stab and slash used all his strength.

Dali's sword-wielding hand was numb, after all, he had learned the family sword technique since he was a child, and he had already mastered the basic coping skills, and he had blocked all of this dazzling series of attacks, and thanks to the suffering he had suffered during his imprisonment, the strength of his arm had increased a lot during those months of hard labor.

Tony Foster saw that his opponent was able to hold this wave of attacks so perfectly, and it seemed that the short man was not as unbearable as he thought, and he quickly changed his strategy, moving his feet nimbly and attacking his opponent's left side.

Dali thought in surprise:

(Great!) A little closer! A little closer! ）

The opponent no longer kept his distance and no longer blindly attacked the middle, but instead slashed more horizontally, so that Dali had a chance to smash his opponent's sword in a parry, and then take the opportunity to stab through.

Finally he waited for this opportunity!

Dali keenly noticed that his opponent's backhand side slash was a feint, and he saw that the opponent's sword was not really powerful, and quickly broke out a fierce force to smash the opponent's sword path.

At this time, the side of Tony's body was completely exposed to Dali's stabbing range, and Dali did not hesitate to seize this rare opportunity, he decisively kicked and launched a thrust, and the tip of his sword stabbed straight into the opponent's ribs.

(I'll win if I stab this sword, go die!) ）

Tony Foster has been through a lot of battles, how much experience he has, how could he make such a low-level mistake, and sure enough, his trick is just a flaw waiting for Dali to take the bait.

Dali saw that the tip of his sword was about to pierce his opponent's side, when the opponent jumped back to the side with an incredibly agile pace to avoid the attack, and the blonde swordsman deftly flipped his wrist as he jumped away, causing the tip of the sword to cut Dali's sword-wielding hand from the side.

Dali's face was distorted in pain, and he had to change the sword to his left hand, and the wound in his right hand was deep and bleeding.

Only then did he realize that the gap between himself and the other party was so big, and he had tried his best to fight, but the other party was just playing tricks on him.

Tony Foster glanced at his employer who was watching the game.

It was clear that his employer, Siska Newman, was pleased with the play, praising it:

"Haha, well done, that's it! I just want him to suffer so much that he dies, and the next blow is a little heavier! ”

Dali had never held a sword in his left hand, and he was completely unable to stop the rapid attack of the opponent, and soon he was stabbed in the left flank, his spleen was pierced, and his clothes were soaked red with blood.

He had no choice but to withdraw his left hand and hold the wound on his left flank, and barely clenched the sword with his already injured right hand. Warm blood poured out of the wounds on the left flank and right hand, falling on the yellow, crunchy fallen leaves.

Dali endured the severe pain to prevent his weapon from falling, he breathed heavily, tried to straighten his arm and pointed the tip of the sword at his opponent, he tried to force his spirit to keep his composure, but his body gradually lost his obedience, the sword slipped from his hand and fell to the ground, and he himself gradually lost his ability to stand due to excessive blood loss.

Da used his last strength to hold on and not fall, he knelt on top of the fallen leaves, his eyes blurred, and his body became colder and colder.

Tony Foster withdrew his sword and stood in place, silently waiting for his employer's order, even if he was as cold-blooded as him, he couldn't help but secretly admire this tough little opponent.

This stupid real sword duel was nothing short of a slaughter, and the difference in strength between the two was so large that the famous swordsman of the whole continent was completely uninterested, and he began to dislike the business a little.

At this time, Siska Newman spoke: "Okay, you see, this kid can't be arrogant anymore, haha.

Paulus Einfurt would never have imagined that his precious son was on his knees like a slaughtered animal, and today was the end of the Ainfurt family! ”

He commanded, "Hey, Tony, I told you how this kid's brother killed my son, and now I want him to die the same way!" Don't tease him anymore, get down to business! ”

As soon as the words fell, Dali's neck was pierced mercilessly, and after the blade was drawn, he finally fell, blood filling his throat, he gradually lost consciousness, and the images flashing in his mind were all the images of his family in his memory.

Gradually, he couldn't even feel the pain, only felt cold ......, and his eyes couldn't feel the light, and he gradually fell into the abyss of darkness.

Dali Einfoot lay quietly on the fallen leaves, his blue eyes staring blankly at the gloomy sky.

On this cold and wet morning, in the midst of the beautiful woods, he was no longer the cowardly and timid nerd, but faced a formidable foe like the brave ancestors of the Ainfurt family.

He took up his sword and fought bravely, then fell, dying.