"*Wind King Hammer!*"
"*Boom!*"
Artoria perfectly demonstrated the power of overwhelming force, showing that no matter how flashy an opponent's moves, she could break through with a single sword strike!
"This is!"
Tristan naturally recognized this move. Having served his king for many years, he was well aware of his majesty's attack methods. He also knew the power of this sword strike. Seeing his Noble Phantasm directly shattered made it clear that he was far inferior in terms of strength!
"*Boom!*"
The sword wind swept through, sending the warhorse flying and crashing heavily. Tristan, at the last moment, leaped off the horse, narrowly dodging the attack.
The other Riders weren't so lucky. Both they and their horses were swept away, tumbling in disarray. This was already Artoria holding back.
Tristan landed, his eyes wavering as he looked at Artoria, before finally kneeling on one knee.
"I greet my King."
Since he had confirmed that the other party was indeed the true King Arthur, he could no longer attack Artoria. He had sworn an oath after failing to be loyal to his King in the past, and now, being summoned, he would dedicate everything to his King!
"Now you know I'm not a fake, don't you?"
Artoria said with a smile, and Tristan immediately lowered his head.
"Your humble servant is guilty. But, my King, why are you here?"
Tristan understood that while this King before him was King Arthur, she was not the one who had summoned him. The Lion King he currently served was still in the Holy City.
"I am here for Humanity's History. You should know about the plan of my other self. Do you think her actions are right?"
Artoria asked, and Tristan lowered his head, remaining silent.
Seeing Tristan's reaction, Artoria understood something.
This individual before her, her former Rider, was now summoned by her other self. Even if Tristan wouldn't act against her now, he wouldn't betray her other self either.
"I didn't expect you to be so loyal to my other self. How is it? Is she better at understanding people than me?"
Artoria said with a smile.
Tristan's head sank even lower for a moment.
"Your humble servant deserves death a thousand times over."
"Alright, stand up. Go back and tell my other self that humanity has its own course. I once saw Great Britain a thousand years from now, and the people were doing very well. That's enough. Tell her I will come find her. If we can't talk things out, I also want to see whose Lancer is stronger, or if my Saber is more powerful."
Artoria waved her hand, unleashing a Sword Qi that carved a deep mark in front of Tristan.
Tristan also understood Artoria's meaning. He bowed his head and stood up.
"Then, your humble servant will take his leave."
With that, Tristan turned and left, while the injured Riders helped each other up and followed.
Artoria swung the Holy Sword in her hand, retracting it.
"You're just letting him go? Tristan is quite a figure among the Knights of the Round Table, skilled with both bow and sword, and not weak. If we could have defeated him here…"
Fujimaru Ritsuka spoke, but before they could finish, Artoria interrupted.
"Don't say such naive things, girl. He is my Rider. Since he has already knelt, no one can touch him without my permission."
After saying that, Artoria walked towards the All-Terrain Vehicle. Fujimaru Ritsuka shrugged and said nothing more.
At this moment, Mo Shuying had completely healed Smoked Drunk Hassan's injuries. With Madman's Pride, he was essentially a blood bank outside of combat, able to replenish any amount he gave to others, with no fear of anemia.
"Thank you."
Smoked Drunk Hassan saw that even Tristan had left, and their group should be safe. So, she turned to Mo Shuying and thanked him.
"No need to thank me, it was nothing. Why are you traveling with so many ordinary people? Where are you planning to go?"
Mo Shuying asked casually, but he was actually trying to get information from Smoked Drunk Hassan.
The Hassans in this Singularity were known as the Mountain People. In fact, most Hassans were Heroic Spirits from this region, the Assassination Cult of the Middle East, the Faceless Ones who struck fear into the world, the Old Man of the Mountain who bore a reputation for evil.
If possible, Mo Shuying wanted to meet the Hassan who enjoyed severing people's heads, the true Hassan, King Hassan, the Old Man of the Mountain himself. As a rather successful Assassin, shouldn't he meet the Grand Assassin?
However…
"While I thank you for saving my life, please forgive me for not being able to disclose that information. I apologize."
Smoked Drunk Hassan said apologetically. The village they were currently in was called the Eastern Village. Besides a few Hassans, there were several hundred ordinary people. Recently, the Holy City's patrol Riders had been tightening their searches, and she couldn't afford to be careless.
"Alright, then. Until next time."
Mo Shuying saw what Smoked Drunk Hassan was wary of, and he didn't force the issue. At a time like this, forcing it would only cause resentment, which was unnecessary.
So, Smoked Drunk Hassan watched as Mo Shuying very straightforwardly walked away, so straightforwardly that she was a little bewildered.
"Let's go. Following Tristan will definitely lead us to the Holy City."
Everyone got into the vehicle. This time, Artoria wasn't driving; Da Vinci was back in the driver's seat.
And so, a scene unfolded.
Tristan led a group of injured or mobility-impaired Riders, walking ahead, with a strange vehicle slowly following not far behind them.
Tristan's face darkened. Are they following this close because they think an Archer can't see? I might have squinty eyes, but I'm not blind! Even if I were blind, a blind person could hear that rumbling engine!
There was nothing for it. After walking for half an hour, Tristan couldn't take it anymore and turned toward the All-Terrain Vehicle.
"My King."
"What is it?"
Artoria poked her head out of the vehicle, holding a freshly mixed iced drink in her left hand and a fragrant skewer in her right.
"...My King, why are you following us so closely?"
Tristan's face grew even darker when he saw what Artoria was holding. We've lost our horses and walked for ages! And you lot! Drinking beverages, riding in a car! And skewers! Indeed, my King truly doesn't understand people's feelings!
"We're also going to the Holy City, but we're not very familiar with the way. Aren't you returning to the Holy City? Don't mind us, we'll just follow slowly."
Saying this, Artoria took a big bite of meat.
"Mmm, this Dragon Meat skewer is really good. Even though it was pre-cooked, conditions are tough now, so there's no helping it."
Tristan: "..."
[This is "tough conditions"? What about us! We have no conditions at all!]
Wiping his chest, Tristan felt like he'd die of anger even if he hadn't been inverted.
"My King, do you have some business in the Holy City?"
Tristan took a deep breath, steadying himself before speaking.
"Business? The Holy City you speak of should be Camelot, right? Well, there you have it. The White Chalk City is my territory, isn't it? Is there anything wrong with me returning to my own territory?"
Artoria said with a matter-of-fact tone.
Tristan frowned. It sounds like...
...there's nothing wrong with that!
"But..."
Tristan still wanted to say something.
"There are no 'buts.' I command you to continue forward. You must return to the Holy City. What? Are you going to defy my command?"
Artoria said coldly.
Tristan immediately knelt.
"I wouldn't dare."
"Lead the way!"
"At your command..."
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