Chapter 147: Chapter 110: The Iron Dragon Problem

Silence. For what seemed like the umpteenth time, the entire arena fell deathly still.

The crowd was speechless, dazed, almost forgetting to breathe.

All eyes were fixed in one direction, faces frozen in expressions like drowning victims just pulled ashore, gasping for breath.

Countless minds replayed the moment over and over: the Demon Hunter pushing the Knight aside, raising his sword and blade.

A fleeting glint of light, the blades sharper than the sun’s rays.

Five falling Knight’s Swords shattered with a resonant hum, and then there was the Demon Hunter, standing proudly upon the tournament stage.

In an instant, just a single instant, the Demon Hunter had shattered the five Knights’ Longswords with the weapons in his hands.

Even if the ultimate price was the shattering of his own weapons—not that Baron cared, since he wasn’t the one paying for them.

Ignoring the five dumbfounded Knights, he offered a hand to Galahad, who was still on the ground, her face a picture of bewilderment from his previous words. "Need a hand?"

Her identity exposed, Galahad bit her lip but didn’t refuse his hand. As Baron pulled her to her feet, she asked in a low voice,

"How did you know? No one else in the Knight Order ever figured it out."

She was sure her disguise was perfect—she bound her chest, tied up her hair, spoke in a gruff voice, and even used an ointment to mask her natural scent.

In the months since she’d joined the Glorious Knight Order, not a single Knight had ever questioned her gender.

Baron rolled his eyes. "If I knew there was a woman disguised as a man on my team, I wouldn’t say anything either."

Galahad’s expression changed. Baron sighed again. "Actually, Sir Knight, your chestplate is cracked. I just don’t think any real man would be wearing a chest binding underneath his."

Galahad instinctively looked down, only to find her chestplate perfectly intact. What chest binding?

She then remembered that she wore a tunic under her Armor; even if it did crack, only the fabric underneath would show.

After a moment’s pause, she realized it was just the Demon Hunter’s ill-timed prank.

A flash of anger crossed her face, but by then the Demon Hunter was already standing in the center of the stage, calling out to the still-frozen announcer.

"So, does this mean I’ve won?"

The announcer snapped out of his trance, grabbed the microphone, and declared:

"The final winner of the sixth day of the Hunting Competition is—Intern Demon Hunter Allen!!"

The entire arena, which had seemed to be on pause, remained silent for one more beat before erupting in an earth-shattering roar!

Everyone went wild, pumping their fists and screaming. Girls waved their feathered fans and handkerchiefs, and the bolder ones even blew kisses at the stage.

The men who had won their bets brandished wads of banknotes, roaring Baron’s name. The losing gamblers cursed him loudly while squatting to silently pick up the scattered coins they had dropped.

Before placing their bets, they would have scoffed at such paltry change on the ground.

Maguire looked over at Zod, who still had a look of utter shock on his old face.

He clearly hadn’t recovered from the sight of L’s overwhelming attack.

Down in the stands, the veteran Hunters in the Demon Hunter candidate section joined the cheering. They loudly boasted to the noblewomen in the viewing boxes that the Demon Hunter on stage had worked with them, that he was practically a friend... no, a brother!

The Knight candidate section, by contrast, was eerily silent. They all sat in funereal silence.

Only Gawain Lannier, who had woken up on his stretcher and witnessed the entire event, remained expressionless. His eyes were dark, his thoughts unreadable.

After a long moment, he let out a cold laugh. Ignoring the protests of the many Wizards around him, he rose, grabbed a coat to drape over his shoulders, and walked down from the tumultuous stands.

Watching him go, Victor had a complicated look in his eyes. "This must be a huge blow to Gawain’s pride. Knowing his personality, he’s probably going off to train."

Lewis nodded. "That’s for the best."

He put a cigar in his mouth. A lighter built into his metal prosthetic limb sparked, igniting the tip. He took a drag, exhaling as he watched the triumphant Baron on stage.

"This L is no ordinary man," he said. "According to Lady Yalilan, he was originally a playwright from Feinan. He came to Prole looking for adventure but was forced to become a Bounty Hunter to make a living, surviving mainly on rewards."

He sighed. "A Bounty Hunter from Feinan... I can’t imagine how he managed to hone his skills to this level while being ostracized and unable to register with a single Demon Hunter organization."

Feinan and Far North Suluka were known throughout Prole for being warlike. The Feinan People were particularly infamous for razing cities and destroying kingdoms in past wars, all while proclaiming themselves descendants of the Golden Dragon King, one of the Three Great Dragon Kings.

The various nations and city-states of the Prole Continent deeply despised and feared the Feinan People, calling them "Dragon Demons."

Even though that was all thousands of years ago.

Ever since the Emperor of Fear unified Prole, the Feinan People have mostly kept to themselves. They occasionally send ships to trade with Prole and escort their Candidate for Emperor ashore with an army at the beginning of each imperial selection ceremony.

Otherwise, their presence on the Prole Continent is a rare sight, their numbers so few they could be compared to the wandering Elf Poets.

The Prole People hated and feared them, not just for the crimes they committed against Prole thousands of years ago, but also for their distinctive black hair—the same hair color as the Dragon Emperor who had nearly conquered the entire Prole Continent.

(PS: Many Prole People also have black hair and dark eyes, but the features of the Feinan People are still slightly different and easy to distinguish. Furthermore, the irises of the Feinan People have a hint of dark yellow, said to be the color of the Golden Dragon’s bloodline after being diluted.)

In recent years, however, with the development of various schools of thought across the Continent, the plight of the Feinan People in Prole has improved considerably.

There were many reasons for this. Not only had most of the Prole Emperors in the last few centuries been Feinan People, but more importantly, Feinan had discovered numerous small, resource-rich islands in the mysterious seas beyond their own shores.