A hundred?
Fight ten?
And we have to pick the strongest hundred ourselves?
The advantage is mine!
Sir Gerardi Grafson's wrinkled old face twitched violently from extreme shock.
He had lived for over seventy years, attended countless tourneys, and witnessed innumerable duels.
But he had never heard of such an absurd, such... preposterous death wish!
This was beyond arrogance.
This was an insult!
It was a blatant humiliation of the entire knightly class of the Vale!
Who did he think he was?
A warrior descended upon the earth?
Or a legendary God of War?
Even the bravest legendary hero wouldn't dare claim they could face ten knights at once!
Moreover, the fight only needed to last until one candle burned out?
If these hundred people lined up for Lynn to kill alone, how long would it take him?
This wasn't a battle at all; it was a complete and utter farce!
It was the most malicious mockery by Lynn, this Wildling from Beyond the Wall!
"Are... are you sure?"
Ser Marq Arryn's voice was trembling.
He even wondered if Lynn's brain had been frozen by the thin air at the top of The Eyrie.
The expressions on the faces of the Vale nobles behind him were even more varied and fascinating.
Some turned red, feeling they had been subjected to the greatest humiliation.
Others had a glint in their eyes, their hearts pounding fiercely due to a mad idea.
What if... what if Lynn wasn't joking?
What if he was truly willing to withdraw his army based on such a guaranteed loss of a duel?
Then wouldn't this be... white bread falling from the sky?
Hand-delivered to their mouths by the Seven Gods themselves!
"I, Lynn, keep my word."
Lynn's expression was calm, and his gaze slowly swept over the faces of everyone present, taking in their every reaction.
Finally, his eyes fell upon the Winter Ghost Legion behind him, who were cloaked in black robes and silent as statues.
The eyes of the Vale knights moved with his.
Only then did they carefully examine the nine "helpers" Lynn had brought.
One of the Others, who was disguised as Petyr, did not count among them.
Black cloaks covered them from head to foot, completely concealing their figures.
Their faces were unclear, and it was impossible to tell if they carried weapons.
They did not know that these dead men had all been exceptionally strong fighters in life, only that their bodies were somewhat shriveled after death.
They only knew that judging by the slender figures of these people, they were certainly not powerful warriors.
They looked more like... some kind of mysterious maesters, or simply a group of malnourished servants.
Asking nine such people to join Lynn in fighting a hundred fully armed, battle-hardened Vale knights?
Insane.
The world had completely lost its mind!
"Good!"
Sir Gerardi Grafson slammed his greatsword back into the ground, letting out a deafening roar!
His cloudy old eyes burst forth with an unprecedented light!
"On behalf of all the knights of the Vale of Arryn, I accept your challenge!"
"Not only will we choose a hundred men!"
"We will also release Bronze Yohn!"
"And we will gather all the strongest champions of the Vale right here!"
"Three days!"
The old knight held up three fingers, his voice trembling with excitement.
"We only need three days!"
"In three days, right here in the Moon Gate Garden!"
"Let the Seven Gods bear witness to how the honor of the Vale shall be defended!"
"Good."
Lynn nodded, the smile on his face inscrutable.
"Then for these three days, I shall impose upon The Eyrie."
"I hope you can prepare enough cattle and sheep for my dragon."
"My dragon has a terrible temper and only eats meat. If it doesn't eat enough, it gets angry, and even I cannot restrain it."
"If people mysteriously go missing then, don't blame me for not warning you beforehand."
With that, Lynn ignored the Vale people with their various expressions, turned, and leisurely walked into the castle.
The ten black-robed figures, including "Petyr," silently followed him.
It wasn't until their figures completely disappeared into the castle shadows that a massive, roaring cheer erupted in the Moon Gate Garden!
"We won! We are guaranteed to win!"
"The Seven Gods protect us! This is a miracle!"
"Quick! Send ravens to notify everyone! Let all people come and witness this victory!"
Nobles embraced each other, and knights excitedly hammered their shields.
The fear of being dominated by the dragon, the humiliation of having the truth exposed by Littlefinger... all were cast to the winds in this moment.
They felt as if they could already see Lynn, shamefacedly scrambling out of the Vale with his monsters three days later.
Ser Marq Arryn watched the fanatic scene before him, his lips moving as if to speak, but finally, it only turned into a long sigh.
He just felt that this wasn't fair.
Moreover, things didn't seem that simple.
That young man named Lynn, his eyes were too calm.
So calm that... he didn't look like a gambler about to lose everything... Meanwhile, outside The Bloody Gate.
The continuous Mountains of the Moon, like the spine of a giant dragon, completely isolated the Vale from the outside world.
And The Bloody Gate was the only choke point in this natural barrier.
Two square towers built of massive stones guarded both sides of the narrow mountain path.
Between the towers was a massive gate made of iron and huge timbers.
For thousands of years, this Impregnable Pass had witnessed countless wars, yet it had never been breached from the front by any enemy.
Today, however, the garrison of The Bloody Gate felt like they were going insane.
Their nightmare began three days ago when the legendary Wildling army appeared on the other side of the mountains.
These Wildlings didn't play by the rules at all!
They didn't besiege the castle, nor did they issue challenges.
During the day, they hid in the forests, and not even a ghost could be seen.
But as soon as night fell, they acted like completely different people, employing all sorts of tricks.
"Whoosh—"
A flaming arrow, trailing a long wake of fire, sliced through the night sky and landed precisely at the feet of a drowsy sentinel.
The sentinel jolted in fright, nearly falling off the wall.
"Hey! You grandsons up there! Your grandpa is here to bring you warmth again!"
From the dense woods below the mountain came Tormund's signature booming voice, followed by a burst of reckless laughter.
"If you have the guts, come out! Fight your grandpa fair and square!"
"What kind of skill is it to hide behind a stone wall?"
The commander on the wall's face turned livid with anger, yet he was helpless.
Charge out?
Are you kidding me?
Heaven knows how many monsters were hidden in those dark woods.
Furthermore, the orders from Lady Lysa and Sir Nestor were to hold the position!
They absolutely must not act rashly before the main forces returned!
"Ignore them! Increase the watch!"
The commander could only grit his teeth and give the order.
However, this was just the beginning.
The harassment didn't stop all night long.
One moment, there was a barrage of rockets; although they caused little damage, they made The Bloody Gate look like it was on fire, forcing everyone to run around with buckets of water.
The next, eerie and terrifying screeches came from the woods.
Imitating wolf howls and ghost wails.
Some even imitated women's screams, causing panic and intense disgust.
Worst of all, they somehow acquired a pile of cattle and sheep dung and used slings to fling it onto the walls from afar, creating a pervasive stench.
"Damn it!"
Tormund walked out of the woods, swearing under his breath, and kicked away a stone at his feet.
"Is this what you call war? It's more boring than swatting flies off a woman's butt!"
He looked at Mance Rayder, who was leaning against a tree trunk nearby, leisurely wiping his longsword.
"I say, former king-beyond-the-wall, are we just going to keep playing these games?"
Mance didn't even lift an eyelid.
"This is Lynn's command. You just need to follow orders. You don't want Lord Lynn to get angry, do you?"
"Orders? Bullshit orders!"
Tormund spat on the ground.
"He told us to hold the Vale people down, but now the Vale people are acting like turtles, refusing to come out!"
"We're down here acting like fishwives, while he's up in The Eyrie enjoying himself!"
"I can't take it anymore!"
Tormund suddenly stood up, his huge, bell-like eyes fixed on the massive figure not far away.
The Frost Giant.
It was sitting quietly in a clearing, like a silent iceberg.
Its eyes, burning with blue flames, were curiously looking in the direction of The Bloody Gate.
A crazy idea instantly formed in Tormund's mind.
"Hey! Big guy!"
Tormund waved at the Frost Giant.
"How about we discuss something?"
"You're idle anyway. Why don't you go stretch your muscles?"
The Frost Giant's head slowly turned, looking down at Tormund, who was like a small ant beneath it. A hint of confusion appeared in its blue eyes.
"See those two stone pillars?"
Tormund pointed toward The Bloody Gate in the distance.
"Go over there, and just gently... tap it."
"Tormund! Are you insane?!"
Mance Rayder finally stood up.
His face was full of astonishment.
"Lynn's command was harassment! Not siege warfare!"
"I'm not attacking the castle!"
Tormund spread his hands, looking innocent.
"I'm just letting it test the feel. What if that gate isn't sturdy?"
"You..."
Mance wanted to say more, but it was too late.
The Frost Giant was clearly interested in Tormund's suggestion.
It let out a low roar and slowly rose from the ground.
The ground trembled violently the moment it stood up.
"Boom... boom... boom..."
The fifteen-meter-tall behemoth, taking heavy steps, walked toward the Impregnable Pass, which looked somewhat "petite" before it.
The walls of The Bloody Gate instantly erupted into chaos.
"What... what the hell is that thing?!"
"A Giant! It's a Giant!"
"Are you kidding me! There's no Giant that big!"
"Aren't they supposed to not attack?"
Panic instantly reached its peak.
The commander watched the monster approaching like a moving mountain, feeling his calves cramping up.
"Fire arrows! Fire arrows! All archers! Shoot it dead!"
"Whoosh whoosh whoosh—!"
A dense rain of arrows, like swarming locusts, poured down upon the Frost Giant.
However, the arrows, which were strong enough to pierce leather armor, only produced a crisp "clink clink" sound when they struck the Giant's body, which was composed of Ten Thousand Year Profound Ice.
Then they bounced off weakly and fell to the ground.
Not even a white mark was left behind.
"It's useless! Quick! Go report to Sir Nestor Royce!"
The commander let out a desperate roar.
However, it was all too late.
The Frost Giant had already reached The Bloody Gate.
It lowered its head, its eyes burning with blue flames, curiously examining the "toy" blocking its path.
Then, under the horrified gaze of everyone on the wall,
it slowly raised its right fist.
It was a fist larger than a small hill, formed of pure ice and power.
"No—!"
The commander on the wall let out the last, and most helpless, cry of his life.
The Frost Giant didn't seem to use much strength.
Its movement even carried a hint of childish nonchalance.
The fist gently landed on The Bloody Gate, which was reputed never to fall.
There was no earth-shattering boom.
Only a sound so utterly muffled it felt like it could stop a heart from beating—
"Thud."
Time, at this moment, seemed to have been pressed into slow motion.
The wall, constructed of brick, steel, and massive timbers, instantly buckled inward, twisted, and then... shattered piece by piece, as if it were made of paper, the moment it made contact with the fist, which was the size of a small hill!
Immediately following were the two square towers supporting the gate!
Spiderweb cracks began appearing in the sturdy stone structure, starting from the base.
The cracks spread wildly at a visible speed!
"Crack... RUMBLE—!!!"
The millennia-old Impregnable Pass, the strongest gateway in Westeros.
Under this single punch, it collapsed with a roar!
Massive stones shattered, and dust clouds soared into the sky!
The entire valley trembled violently under this terrifying force!
When the dust settled.
What was known as The Bloody Gate no longer existed.
All that remained was a scene of utter ruin, and a... clear, unobstructed passage.
In the woods, Mance Rayder stood agape, staring blankly at the miraculous sight before him, his longsword clattering to the ground.
And Tormund, the instigator, was equally stunned.
He just... wanted it to tap it.
Who knew... that this thing's "gentle tap" meant this?
Above the ruins, the Frost Giant withdrew its fist and scratched its head, looking confused.
It seemed... it had broken its toy.
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