Chapter 151: Never Surrender (Part 2)

  "I'm sorry, though I know there's probably little chance of winning, I still won't surrender." Ethan sighed, looking faintly at the three Temple Knights.

  "Don't push your luck, kid." The face of the Temple Knight holding the battle spear, like a black stone slab, already showed anger. He couldn't understand why Lord Lancelot was wasting so much time on this wanted criminal. Logically, dealing with such a heinous criminal should involve crippling him and leaving only his life to report back to His Majesty the Pope.

  "I'll hold them off. You all scatter and escape." Ethan said softly to Hilton and the two behind him, then bent down as the light of fighting spirit began to flash on his body.

  But before Hilton and the others could move, the two Temple Knights beside Lancelot acted first. Their figures flickered. Though they didn't attack directly, they rushed toward the sides with incomparable speed.

  Ethan shouted fiercely and lunged directly at the spear-wielding knight.

  A loud "clang" echoed as blade and spear met. The red blood-aura on the blade and the white magical fluctuations on the spear immediately began to clash and bite at each other like red-hot iron meeting ice, producing sizzling sounds. In an instant, blade and spear collided dozens of times, then the two figures separated. Ethan was forced back to his original position, while the Temple Knight successfully joined with the sword-wielding one to stand with Lancelot in an encircling formation. Though it was only a three-person encirclement with large distances between them, their mutually reinforcing momentum was far more unbreakable than any iron wall. Those in the center had no chance to escape.

  A dent appeared on the abdomen of the Temple Knight's Radiant Battleplate, but under the light of white magic, it was slowly swelling and healing. A wound nearly visible on the bone appeared on Ethan's forehead, with blood gushing out, dyeing his face crimson. He raised a hand to cast a healing spell on himself to stop the bleeding, then turned to the people behind him and said: "Why didn't you take the chance to escape just now?"

  "Covering our escape, boss, you're really loyal, but even if I wanted to run, I couldn't." Hilton sat on the ground. Though he had caught his breath and was no longer half-dead, he truly wasn't in a condition to run. The moment Ethan acted to stop the Temple Knight was fleeting. Let alone him, even the druid and Jessica hadn't had time to escape.

  "Someone with slow reactions like me can't escape either." The druid simply reverted to human form, removed his helmet, and sighed. Though his combat effectiveness was unquestionable when transformed into a werewolf, his reactions and judgment were still those of a middle-aged man with an honest appearance, not a genuine werewolf full of wildness and killing intent. Hilton, a veteran of countless battles, reacted far faster to the situation than he did.

  "You..." Ethan glanced at Jessica. Given her speed and agility, it couldn't be that she couldn't escape, only that she was unwilling to. He couldn't help but feel somewhat moved. Though he hadn't known this woman long, and their relationship seemed purely physical, he felt a strange sense of intimacy with her deep down.

  "Don't flatter yourself. I didn't stay just for you." Jessica glanced indifferently at the strangely expressioned Ethan, then reached up and removed her face mask. She had seemed somewhat odd since seeing the Temple Knights with Ethan on the tree branch. But because she wore that mask that only exposed her eyes, and the situation was urgent, Ethan hadn't had time to pay attention.

  Seeing her inexplicably remove her mask, Ethan and the others were momentarily stunned, but the Temple Knight holding the greatsword flowing with silver light trembled all over, exclaiming: "You?"

  After seeing their colleague's reaction, Lancelot and the other Temple Knight were also momentarily stunned. But Ethan was even more astonished than them. He never would have thought that Jessica, a Drow who had casually slept with him, had past connections with a Temple Knight.

  "You... how could you be here?" The expression of the Temple Knight holding the greatsword was very strange. Amidst his disbelief were other factors—joy, sorrow, embarrassment, and a trance-like state of reminiscence. Countless incomprehensible elements intertwined, twisting his handsome and steady face, completely losing the consistently composed demeanor of a master.

  The Temple Knight had always stood straight, expressionlessly staring at the four people in the center. His entire being was as sharp-edged and heavy as the greatsword on his shoulder. But the moment he saw Jessica's face, his originally flawless posture, demeanor, and momentum instantly vanished and shattered. Now, even a small hooligan could easily stab him once or twice from behind.

  "You... your ears... hair... eyes... how did you come to the surface..." The Temple Knight stammered, looking at the Drow. He had an exceptionally heroic face, around forty years old, with brown whiskers making him appear solid and steady, but now he seemed like a youth suddenly encountering an old friend—flustered and at a loss.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Jessica gently brushed her hand, revealing her black hair and the two shocking scars near her ears. Looking at the Temple Knight, she said faintly: "If I didn't do this, how could I find you? The eyes—I secretly used the tribe's treasure, the Dark Fire Pearl, and at its cost, begged High Priest Tima to give me this pair of human eyes."

  "You... then you can't... can never go back... how long have you been up here?" The Temple Knight spoke incoherently, his body trembling slightly.

  "Not long after you left, I came up. I originally intended to find you, but after learning you were the famous Temple Knight, I didn't want to." Jessica pointed at Ethan. "This is my man now. I prefer him, so I plan to help him. I know you won't attack me, will you? You don't dare."

  "You..." The Temple Knight's expression twisted.

  "Christine." Lancelot's face turned solemn. His thunderous shout not only made the absent-minded Temple Knight tremble, but everyone present felt their hearts skip several beats. This voice wasn't particularly loud, yet it seemed to directly pluck at one's heartstrings.

  "I apologize, I lost my composure. Lord Lancelot." The Temple Knight bowed his head, stepped back. Though he spoke no more, not even looking at Jessica again, the momentum of readiness for battle was completely gone. His emotions were clearly still in turmoil, making this encirclement virtually meaningless.

  Lancelot sighed faintly, his gaze lingering on Christine and Jessica for a moment before finally settling on Ethan's face: "Unexpected to have such a chance encounter here... But we needn't concern ourselves with them. Let's discuss what we must discuss."

  Ethan moved his gaze from Jessica and the Temple Knight back to meet Lancelot's brown eyes.

  "If it's because you're concerned that this Drow and your two subordinates will be killed by us that you're unwilling to surrender, you can rest assured now. I have no interest in them. You come with me, and I won't harm a hair on your head."

  "Is that so? Thank you then." Ethan nodded to Lancelot in gratitude. "But I still won't surrender."

  "Oh? Why?" Lancelot wasn't angry or anxious.

  "Because surrender, like conspiracy and trickery, may be rational, but it doesn't suit my personality." Ethan sighed with half regret, half emotion. He used the gaze of a legendary unsharpened heavy sword. Against an opponent far superior in strength, his gaze couldn't be sharp, only heavy and persistent. "Even now, I still can't adapt to or handle environments full of treacherous people. Through this failure, I've finally realized that no matter the environment, its changes and uncertainties, I shouldn't force things beyond my abilities and personality. I just need to grasp myself well. That's actually the only thing I can do. So now, I don't want to consider more. My personality is never to wait helplessly for capture. If you want to capture me, try it yourself."

  "Good." The light in Lancelot's eyes brightened. But it too carried no sharpness, instead having a hint of approval. "Since you say that, I'll personally try it."

  The Temple Knight holding the battle spear, with skin comparable to a Drow's, raised his weapon and said: "My lord, there's no need for you to act. I can take him..."

  Lancelot waved his hand to stop the Temple Knight's movement and slowly took one step toward Ethan.

  Ethan only felt an incomparably huge mountain move one step closer, making this mountain larger, more majestic, and more unfathomable. He took a deep breath as fighting spirit began to condense.

  Lancelot took another step forward. His steps seemed unremarkable, but combined with his entire being, they appeared fluid and coordinated. His breathing, every bone, every muscle, even each heartbeat of his heart were connected to these steps—or rather, to his entire body.

  Ethan remained half-crouched in place, unmoving. The Meditation Technique was fully activated, and fighting spirit circulated through his body faster and more turbulently.

  Hilton and the others didn't quite understand, but the observing Aldric and Christine saw the astonishment on his face growing heavier. They were all masters and could sense the wondrous changes produced by the mixture of every nerve, muscle, and fighting spirit in this person's body.

  The Meditation Technique also extended his senses to their limit. Lancelot, approaching step by step opposite, could also be sensed clearly, but the more he sensed, the more he perceived the opponent's height and unfathomability. Even with himself controlled by meditation, under tense and unmoving vigilance, his body still had uncoordinated parts. Some small muscles and sensations hadn't fully integrated, but that opponent, seemingly walking step by step like a stroll, was completely coordinated throughout. His walking was breathing and heartbeat; his breathing was heartbeat and walking. He seemed not to be walking over, but breathing over, heartbeating over—approaching ethereally like mist yet pressing down with the weight of a thousand jun.

  Therefore, in his perception, the one stepping forward opposite wasn't a person, but a mountain.

  More crucially, despite meditation and his body reaching its limit, the surging beastliness and killing intent in his heart were absent. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't return to that cold fighting spirit and killing intent when he faced Gru alone in the Oufu room late at night. Even facing Gru's eyes, like a demonic sea that seemed capable of devouring people, he could erupt with beast-like killing intent, but now he couldn't.

  As Lancelot took his third step, Ethan understood: he couldn't generate killing intent, not because his fighting spirit and killing aura had degraded, nor because Lancelot's killing aura was stronger than Gru's, but because the other simply had no killing intent.

  Perhaps due to intuition and other vague judgments, Ethan always felt no hostility from this clearly opposing top-tier expert. Even as the other advanced step by step, he still sensed no trace of killing intent.

  Facing an unknown, terrifying, huge danger that could devour one at any moment, primal killing intent and beastliness could crazily swell and erupt under extreme pressure. But if facing a majestic, magnificent, and lofty mountain, no animal, however fierce, would have the slightest beastliness or killing intent. No matter how wild a beast, it isn't mad.

  For a brief moment, Ethan even thought of truly surrendering.

  But his fighting spirit reignited. Without killing intent as support, his fighting spirit burned even brighter, fiercer. Facing not an enemy, but a mountain so tall it was nearly insurmountable, he wanted to climb, to surmount, to experience the feeling of trampling this incomparably tall existence underfoot. That, like killing intent, was also a palpitation hidden in the deepest depths of the human soul.

  Crazy killing intent could make one's blood boil and mind go mad, but this palpitation boiled the soul and drove the fighting spirit mad.

  Lancelot's steps began to slow, and Ethan's fighting spirit gradually became denser.

  When Lancelot was less than ten meters from Ethan, the light of fighting spirit on Ethan's body began to weaken from strong. Lancelot's steps grew slower and slower.

  The expressions on the two Temple Knights' faces slowly changed from surprise and anger to solemnity. Even a fighting spirit ignited in their eyes. They stared unblinkingly at Lancelot and Ethan.

  Even Hilton behind Ethan, and the elves observing from afar in the surroundings, all intuitively sensed an unusual atmosphere and fell completely silent. Everyone's attention focused on the two slowly approaching figures. The center of Tulalion suddenly became quieter than the Whispering Woods.