As the martial arts tournament approached, King's Landing visibly grew more crowded.
Knights, mercenaries, merchants, and commoners eager for spectacle, hailing from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms, poured into this already congested city.
The air, a mixture of sea salt, excrement, and cheap perfume, fermented under the scorching southern sun, becoming even more potent and offensive.
Lynn led his black Shire horse, named "Storm," down the reeking streets.
These past few days, he had been either training his physique or familiarizing himself with armor and horses.
This was his first time leisurely strolling through the city.
Not far behind Lynn, two figures followed.
One was Arya, her face full of excitement, finding everything around her new and fascinating.
The other was Sansa Stark, dressed in a proper blue gown, her small face filled with apprehension and unease.
Ever since Ned learned that his daughter had secretly been learning killing techniques from a "Water Dancer," he had forcefully ordered Sansa to accompany Arya.
His excuse was "sisters should accompany each other."
In reality, he wanted to use Sansa's "lady-like demeanor" to rein in this wild, unruly girl.
Arya scoffed at this, but Sansa was miserable.
She would rather do needlework in the Red Keep with her companions than walk these dirty streets, enduring the filthy stares of the commoners.
It was fortunate that they had asked Lynn to come out with them.
With Lynn present, they could avoid ninety percent of unnecessary trouble.
Just then, a magnificent carriage stopped at the street corner.
The carriage door opened, and a blond youth in luxurious clothes jumped out.
It was Prince Joffrey.
Upon hearing that Sansa was out, he, fearing for her safety, seized the opportunity to make an appearance.
Behind him followed the burly, fearsome-faced "The Hound," Sandor Clegane.
"Sansa!"
Joffrey spotted Sansa in the crowd at once, a brilliant smile immediately appearing on his face.
Sansa's eyes instantly lit up, and a blush spread across her cheeks. She quickly gathered her skirt and went to meet him, performing an impeccable curtsy.
"Prince Joffrey."
Joffrey relished being the center of attention, especially in front of his beloved Sansa.
Joffrey extended his hand, intending to take Sansa's, but a drunkard clutching a wine jar staggered and bumped into him from the side.
"Get lost, kid!"
The drunkard slurred, not even realizing who he had bumped into.
Joffrey's smile instantly froze.
Since childhood, when had he ever been subjected to such a collision?
Especially in front of Sansa!
"The Hound!"
Joffrey's voice turned icy.
Sandor Clegane didn't even bother to draw his sword.
He stepped forward, his palm-like hand directly grabbing the drunkard's head, lifting him like a small chicken, and then violently slamming him against the nearby wall!
"Bang!"
A dull thud.
The drunkard's head made intimate contact with the hard brick wall, the sound silencing the surrounding crowd for a moment.
Blood streamed down the wall, and the drunkard's body twitched twice before falling still.
"Ah!"
Sansa shrieked, her face instantly turning ashen.
Although she disliked the dirty drunkard, witnessing a man being smashed to death like that still made her feel physically ill.
Arya instinctively clutched the dagger Lynn had given her, her small face filled with anger.
Just for being bumped into, was it really necessary to take his life?
And he was drunk; at least he should have been judged after he sobered up.
How could someone be executed in the street like that?
This was too unreasonable!
Joffrey was pleased with the outcome.
He glanced at Sansa's pale face; instead of comforting her, he felt this was a good opportunity to display his authority and masculinity.
He walked to the still faintly twitching corpse, raised his foot, and cruelly ground it into the bloody, mangled face.
"This is what happens when you offend a prince."
He turned his head, looking at Sansa with a hint of boastfulness.
"Don't be afraid, Sansa, with me here, no one dares to bully or cause trouble."
Sansa looked at the red and white matter clinging to Joffrey's boot, her stomach churning.
She felt disgusted, felt it was cruel.
But reason told her that Joffrey was a prince, her future husband.
She had to support him unconditionally.
So, she forcibly suppressed her discomfort and forced a pale smile.
"You... you are truly brave, Your Highness Joffrey."
Upon hearing this praise, Joffrey's smugness grew.
However, just as he was about to take Sansa's hand again, enjoying the admiration in her eyes...
A sudden change occurred!
A cold glint, without warning, shot from the window of a two-story building across the street!
It was a crossbow bolt!
Targeting Joffrey's back!
Its speed was so fast it gave no time for reaction!
Screams of terror erupted from the crowd.
Sansa's pupils contracted sharply, her mind a blank.
Sandor's reaction was undeniably swift; he turned immediately, attempting to shield Joffrey with his body.
But it was too late.
The bolt had already crossed the distance between him and Joffrey.
Blood was about to splatter!
A cold gleam, moving at a speed beyond human limits, diagonally intercepted the crossbow bolt.
It was Lynn!
His physical condition had long surpassed that of ordinary people, and his mental power kept him highly alert to everything around him.
The moment the arrow left the bowstring, he moved!
Drawing his sword.
Intercepting.
All in one fluid motion.
"Bang!"
The deadly bolt was deflected, flying past Joffrey's face, almost grazing him.
Then, with a "thwack," the bolt deeply embedded itself in the wall opposite him, its fletching still trembling.
Joffrey lay on the ground for a long time, unable to recover.
He felt as if death had just brushed past him.
"Assassin!"
"Protect the Prince!"
The Gold Cloaks fell into a chaotic state, drawing their longswords and frantically surrounding Joffrey and Sansa.
The Hound, meanwhile, rushed towards the two-story building.
Lynn sprang to his feet from the ground.
He didn't look at the assassin but closed his eyes.
Greensight!
Activate!
The entire world instantly blurred in his perception, and time began to flow backward rapidly.
He needed an anchor point.
It was the arrow embedded in the wall!
Om—
His consciousness instantly traced back along the arrow's flight path!
He "saw" it!
In the room of that small building, a masked man in black, after firing the arrow, immediately discarded the crossbow and turned to jump out of the back window.
Lynn's consciousness didn't stop, continuing to trace further back!
He wanted to see who had orchestrated this assassin!
The scene shifted again.
Last night, a dark alley in King's Landing.
The black-clad assassin was kneeling on one knee.
In front of him stood a man with a goatee.
That man handed a heavy pouch of gold dragons to the assassin, his lips moving silently, seemingly giving instructions.
Although he couldn't hear the sound, Lynn clearly saw the face.
A face he was all too familiar with.
Petyr Baelish.
"Littlefinger"!
Lynn abruptly opened his eyes.
What a "Littlefinger"!
What a move, to divert disaster and pit tigers against each other!
This arrow, whether it hit or missed, would stir up monstrous waves!
If Joffrey died, an enraged Robert and the House Lannister would point their spears directly at Hand Ned Stark!
Because the assassination happened right in front of his daughter!
Even if Joffrey didn't die, this assassination would be enough to completely freeze relations between the Stark, Lannister, and Baratheon families!
At that time, he, the Master of Coin, could reap the benefits from the struggle between two fierce tigers!
What a venomous scheme!
Fortunately, Lynn instinctively sensed something was amiss.
Now was a period when he needed stability; he wouldn't allow anything to escape his control.
This also made Lynn cautious; he couldn't squander his mental energy anymore.
Baelish, whose previous plot had failed, was once again baring his fangs.
"I... I'm fine..."
Joffrey finally got up from the ground.
His face was ashen, and he was trembling all over.
He looked at the crossbow bolt on the wall that had almost taken his life, then looked at Lynn, who stood in front of him.
For the first time, there was no arrogance or cruelty in those blue eyes, only the relief of having escaped death and an almost fanatical gratitude.
"It's you! You saved me!"
Joffrey grabbed Lynn's arm, too excited to speak coherently. "You saved my life!"
Sansa also recovered.
She looked at the unharmed Joffrey, then at the tall and upright Lynn, and her beautiful eyes sparkled.
This Night's Watchman from the North, this man whom her father valued, had actually saved her Prince at the most critical moment!
This... this was even more legendary than the heroic tales in a bard's songs!
Just then, a familiar figure squeezed through the crowd.
It was "Littlefinger," Petyr Baelish.
His expression was perfectly calibrated.
There was shock at the Prince's assassination, anger at the assassin, and worry about the current situation.
"The Seven Gods be praised! Your Highness Prince Joffrey, are you alright?"
His performance was flawless.
Lynn looked at him, his face betraying no emotion.
He could smell the cheap perfume from the brothel on this man.
"Father! I want to see my father!"
Joffrey finally composed himself.
He pointed at Lynn, shouting at the surrounding Gold Cloaks.
"He saved my life! I want Father to reward him! I want him to be my personal guard! I want him to be the most glorious knight in the kingdom!"
The youth's roar echoed through the chaotic street.
Lynn looked down at Joffrey's face, flushed with excitement, then looked up at "Littlefinger" in the distance, who was wiping cold sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, his face filled with lingering fear.
A wild idea quietly formed in his mind.
Littlefinger, don't you like playing games?
Do you like targeting the Stark Family?
Very well.
Now, I'm joining this game too.
I just wonder, when everything you meticulously planned becomes my stepping stone, will the expression on your face still be as spectacular as it is now?
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