Finest Servant-Chapter 597

Chapter 597 What Is She Up To?

The howling wind roared in Lin Wanrong's ears, drowning out the frenzied screams of the Turkic people in the arena. He couldn't make out what they were yelling.

The Great Khan gripped Salmu's hand, her eyes focused on the three tribes that were racing in the field. Her delicate fingers gestured animatedly as she explained something to Salmu. The Little Khan nodded continuously, waving his hand in salute to the sprinting warriors.

With the presence of the two Khans, especially the wise and beautiful Yujia the Great Khan, who had unsheathed her golden blade, the stakes had become incredibly high. She had made it clear that she would choose her lifelong king from the victorious warriors. Faced with such enormous encouragement and temptation, not just the warriors competing in the sheep snatching competition, but even the spectators were boiling with excitement, their fighting spirits surging exponentially. For this once-in-a-millennium opportunity, even if it cost them their lives, they would have no regrets.

This fervor quickly spread to the field. Two other tribes that had started off with the Yuezhi tribe kicked up clouds of dust with their swift horses. Like a violent wind sweeping across the plains, they left behind trails of shredded grass and fallen leaves.

From a distance, it looked as though their horses' hooves barely touched the grass. The Turkic warriors whipped their mounts incessantly, their eyes glowing with excitement and cruelty. They pushed their horsemanship to the limits as they charged toward the fallen sheep.

If the previous victory had been a walk in the park, this round featured much more ferocious and desperate opponents, making the situation instantly more perilous. Because the Right Prince was not participating, it was as though the heavens had offered them a chance that everyone wanted to seize.

Under such circumstances, Lin Wanrong deliberately positioned Old Gao and Hu Bugui at the forefront of his team. The idea was to capitalize on their strong combat skills and rapid speed to shatter the enemy's defenses. When it came to individual physical prowess and single combat abilities, these two outclassed the Turkic warriors.

This new formation indeed produced stunning effects. Without needing further instruction, Old Gao led the charge, cutting through the enemy lines like a god of war. He didn't even look to see where the sheep was or who held it. Swinging his broadsword, he aimed straight at the opponent's head as if he was not there to snatch sheep, but to snatch lives.

Both of the opposing tribes had clearly not anticipated that the weakest tribe on the grassland, the Yuezhi, would completely disregard the sheep and fight them for their lives.

The riders leading the two tribes were usually the most elite forces of their respective tribes, highly capable in combat. However, by unfortunate chance, they had encountered the masked commander of the Great Hua Imperial Guard. No matter how formidable the tribesmen were, who could be a match for Old Gao in close combat?

Before the riders could even blink, their soggy sheep were swept out of their hands, their heads almost cleaved off by Old Gao's blunt blade.

This brutal and unreasonable fighting style, treating the opponent as if they were mortal enemies, instantly threw the enemy lines into utter chaos.

Seizing this opportunity, while Old Gao held the line and the opponents were caught off guard, Hu Bugui laughed uproariously as he swept by like the wind. Bending down, he scooped up the wet sheep that had fallen on the ground and darted forward.

Against all odds, the opening gambit had been dominated by the weakest tribe on the plains, the Yuezhi, which was truly an eye-opener for many.

The other two tribesmen snapped back to their senses, their hearts burning with fury as they let out enraged roars. Ignoring Old Gao, whom they dared not provoke, they spurred their horses and charged after Hu Bugui.

The horsemanship of the Turks was unmatched in the world. Hu Bugui carried a wet sheep on his back, and as the distance between him and the tribesmen closed in, it seemed they would soon catch up. Suddenly, Hu Bugui let out a hearty yell, gripping the wet sheep with both hands and hurling it diagonally into the air.

Like a creature with its own eyes, the sheep flew straight toward a tribesman from the Yuezhi clan who had been waiting thirty feet away. The sheep was thrown with considerable force. The Yuezhi tribesman reached out his arms, and after a struggle, he managed to catch the sheep. With a "splat," the pungent, sheepy liquid splashed all over his face.

‘Damn, it's organic food alright—definitely a different kind of flavor!’ Lin Wanrong spit out a few times to rid his mouth of the liquid droplets and then charged forward on his horse.

Having seen the sheep transferred, the Turks immediately abandoned their chase after Hu Bugui and directed all their efforts at attacking Lin Wanrong. After covering some distance, they divided into two groups, with the most skilled horsemen riding the best steeds leading the charge.

The wind howled past his ears, and the thunderous sound of hooves echoed from behind. The tribesmen's skill in horsemanship was almost magical. The distance between them narrowed inch by inch. The hot breath of the Turks' large horses and the grim expressions in the tribesmen's eyes became increasingly clear.

"Throw it!" Hu Bugui shouted loudly in the Turkic language. He had pulled up alongside Lin Wanrong. Both hands stretched out, they were still thirty feet apart.

"Hey!" Seeing his savior, Lin Wanrong was elated. He let out a furious roar and hurled the sheep away.

"Splat!" The plump, dripping wet sheep landed heavily on the ground, kicking up a smattering of dust. The soldiers of the Great Hua were stunned.

General Lin's throw was utterly weak! The sheep had only flown about ten feet. And not just that, the direction was completely off—falling precisely under the hooves of the pursuing tribesmen. The throw was so accurate that it seemed as if it had been measured with a ruler. The tribesmen couldn't believe what they were seeing and slowed down their horses, their eyes filled with disbelief.

The onlooking Turks paused for a moment before bursting into raucous laughter. "A small tribe is still a small tribe! To think they would claim to be warriors, and even dare to play the sheep snatching competition. What a disgrace to the people of the plains!"

Yujia and the young Khan who were watching the battle from the platform couldn't help but shake their heads, laughing uncontrollably.

Heaven-sent windfall? The Turks chasing couldn't believe the sheep had actually landed beside their horse's legs. However, they were well-trained elites and quickly regained their composure, not slowing down as they scooped up the sheep and galloped forward. After only a few steps, something felt off. Looking up, they were instantly horrified.

The seemingly weak Yuezhi man, who couldn't even throw a sheep properly, had somehow maneuvered his horse to block their path. Cold light flickered in his eyes. Without a glance, the unsheathed blade in his hand drew a chilling arc, accompanied by a swift gust of wind, slashing down toward them.

The distance between the two sides was only tens of feet away. Even with the best horsemanship, how could the tribesman halt his momentum in such a short distance? Seeing that they were about to collide with the blade, the leading Turkic warrior quickly turned his horse's head. The majestic steed neighed and kicked up its front legs, spinning around just in time to dodge the blade, though it was a narrow escape.

Leading the charge were five or six men from the nomadic tribes, each spaced no more than a few inches apart. But in that instant, their pace slowed, and their formation became chaotic. Before they knew it, the Yuezhi people, who had been scattered like grains of sand, had encircled them on horseback, resembling a hungry pack of wolves. Their eyes glinted with a fierce, predatory light.

"Strike!" Lin Wanrong shouted. The large blades wielded by Old Gao and Old Hu gleamed with a cold light, unseating two men from their horses in one fluid motion. The Yuezhi encircled them, either aiming for heads or slashing at horse legs, their formation executed with uncanny skill. Like wolves, their every strike found its mark, spattering blood in all directions and quickly diminishing the few elite warriors.

Caught unawares, the subsequent wave of nomadic warriors rushed in as if waking from a dream, but it was already too late. Their elite fighters had already been thrown off their horses, trampled and hacked apart by the Yuezhi. Very few were even able to draw breath.

The situation had simplified after that. The remaining nomadic tribesmen were no match for the Yuezhi, who ignored the sheep and focused solely on their savage, wolf-like tactics. With more than half their men injured or dead, they could only watch as Old Gao triumphantly crossed the finish line, unable to breach the encircling wolf pack.

The tables had turned; the Yuezhi had won! For a small, seemingly insignificant tribe to achieve back-to-back victories in a grand tournament was a remarkable feat. Their wolf-pack tactics were not only effective but also showed other smaller tribes the way forward.

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Victory made kings. The Turkic people, who valued martial prowess, had quickly forgotten their prior contempt and swarmed around, cheering for this smallest of tribes.

The ruling Turkic Great Khan watched the proceedings with a slight smile, discussing tactics softly with Salmu and occasionally pointing out the Yuezhi's strategies to the young Khan beside him.

A beautiful Turkic girl, holding a delicately woven garland, hesitated for a moment, her face flushed with shyness. Finally, summoning her courage, she sprinted towards them.

"She's coming to give me the garland; someone finally appreciates me!" Old Gao triumphantly hoisted the sheep above his head and puffed out his chest.

The young Turkic girl looked around uncertainly when she got close. Suddenly, like a gust of wind, she rushed up to Lin Wanrong, whose presence there was a complete mystery, and hung the beautiful garland around his neck.

"What just happened?" Before he could react, she had quickly planted a kiss on his cheek, muttered something in Turkic, glanced at him shyly, and sprinted away.

Another warrior chosen! The surrounding tribesmen erupted into ear-splitting cheers and laughter; applause and joviality filled the plains.

"Can you believe it? Despite hiding my handsome face and actively downplaying my charm, I still get noticed? Being an attractive man is truly troublesome." Lin Wanrong chuckled and shook his head, seemingly resigned.

Gao Qiu was equally stunned: "You can't be serious! Even without his face showing, Brother Lin is irresistible, crossing all borders!"

"Nice garland, filled with as many grasses as flowers!" Patting the garland the girl had given him, Lin Wanrong laughed. "Hey, Brother Hu, what did the girl say just now? It was so noisy, I couldn't hear her clearly."

"You can't understand even if it's not noisy!" Hu Bugui said with a laugh, "I'd rather not translate that. It's hard to express!"

Lin Wanrong's heart bloomed with joy. He responded earnestly, "Hard to express? I understand. It must be a young girl's confession. What's so embarrassing about being called tall, handsome, brave, and unbeatable? And being told, 'I really love you?' I'm used to hearing things like that! But I've never heard a confession in Turkic before. Come on, Brother Hu, translate it for me. Don't misunderstand, I mainly want to improve my Turkic language skills."

"Do you really want me to translate?" Old Hu hesitated for a moment, then finally relented, "The sentence in Turkic is actually quite simple to understand. She said, 'You're such a weak warrior, the likes of which I've never seen on the prairie. You're special, so she really likes you.'"

"Ptui!" Old Gao, who was in the midst of drinking water, choked and sprayed it out. It turned out that not all Turkic girls loved heroes; some had a penchant for teddy bears too!

"What do you mean 'weak'? Where am I weak?" Lin Wanrong fumed. "Brother Hu, tell her I am very majestic! Majestic in every sense! Darn it, if she dares, let her come and see for herself. I'll scare her to death!"

Everyone burst into laughter, and the mood gradually lightened after two consecutive victories.

"Wu—" A short horn sounded, and the prairie immediately erupted in applause and cheers. Looking up, dozens of majestic Turkic horses swept into the grassland like the wind. The horsemen were robust and burly, skillfully controlling their mounts as if strolling leisurely through a courtyard. The white blades of their swords swished through the blue sky in unison, like a bolt of lightning.

"Tursun has entered the field!" Hu Bugui whispered.

Even though Tursun's face was not clearly visible, his years of battling north and south had given him an extraordinary aura. The moment his fierce cavalry charged into the grassland, they were recognized, and the surrounding area erupted in thunderous applause and roaring cheers.

Tursun led the charge, his steed flashing past like a bolt of lightning.

"Hisss—" With an intense neigh, the horse beneath him suddenly halted. Its front legs kicked up into the air, reaching a ninety-degree angle with the ground while continuing to neigh wildly. Tursun's massive frame clung to the horse's back, not wavering in the slightest.

As the horse lifted its head to its highest point, Tursun suddenly had a large, curved bow in his hands. He released his grip on the horse's back, relying solely on leg strength to cling to the saddle, his body parallel to the ground.

"Buzz!" The bowstring sounded, and the arrow shot through the sky like lightning, aiming straight into the clouds.

"Chirp—" A mournful cry pierced through the cloud layer as a speeding wild goose plummeted from the sky like a falling stone. The sharp arrow had hit it squarely between the eyes, and its blood trickled slowly down its feathers.

The majestic horse finally calmed down, standing upright for a moment longer before settling. Tursun sat firmly on his horse, motionless. His bow had already been hung behind him, and he appeared as if nothing had happened.

"Good!" Even Hu Bugui couldn't help but praise. Truly worthy of being the Right Prince of the Turkic people, this combination of riding and archery was flawless, uniting man, horse, and arrow into one, leaving nothing to be criticized.

The crowd of nomads erupted in cheers and applause, utterly captivated by Tursun's remarkable archery skills. His performance—hitting both eyes of a target while galloping on his horse—was far superior to Salmu's act of cutting a rope. Just like that, he eclipsed the glory of the young Khan.

Being the offspring of the mighty Bilge Khan of the plains, it was humiliating to be overshadowed by the Right Prince. The young Salmu bowed his head in disappointment, unable to hide his sense of loss. Yujia took his hand, shook her head gently, and whispered words of consolation. Her face was filled with a reassuring smile.

Elated by his spectacular shot, Tursun couldn't help but feel smug. He proudly rode his horse to the starting line, waving and smiling at the crowd. This instantly incited shrieks and cheers from countless young women.

‘The nomads are truly unmatched in horseback riding and archery,’ Lin Wanrong thought to himself, feeling fortunate. ‘If Tursun had competed earlier, it's really hard to say who would have come out on top. Whoever faces him next is in for a tough time.’

Finally, the Right Prince made his entrance. The atmosphere was thick with tension and excitement. All eyes were trained on a fat sheep hanging from a wooden frame in the middle of the plains; it was the moment for the most formidable warriors of the steppe to showcase their skills.

Tursun's opponents had already lined up in formation, watching him intently and ready for the competition to begin.

"May the Great Khan cut the rope!" The Turkic priest called out excitedly. Now that the Right Prince was competing, it was none other than the beautiful Great Khan, Yujia, who had the honor of cutting the rope.

Yujia rose to her feet with a smile. Just as everyone thought she was about to ascend the stage to cut the sheep free, she stood still. Extending her hand, an attendant passed her an exquisite curved bow.

Gripping the bow, Yujia lightly tested the bowstring and a confident smile blossomed on her face.

Young Khan Salmu stood beside her, visibly tense, his hands shaking.

Old Gao was anxious, unable to contain himself, he blurted out, "Has Yujia lost her mind? How could she possibly compete with Tursun, who shot through the eyes of a goose? Young Khan has already lost once; if she loses again, her reputation will be ruined!"

Hu Bugui felt the same. Although they were enemies with Yujia, compared to Tursun, Yujia—who had shared life and death experiences with them—was clearly more likable.

Yujia slowly raised her bow, one beautiful eye gently closed as she focused intently on the rope.

Everyone held their breath. At that moment, whether they were from the Great Hua or Turks, nobody knew what she was planning to do.

Even Lin Wanrong, who considered himself the cleverest man in the world, was at a loss in front of Yujia. This beautiful nomadic woman had always been an enigma. What was she planning to do?

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