Knight Dion was petite and short, factors that would normally be disadvantages in battle, but he turned them into advantages.

From beside the shield and under the blade, D'Eon always found a gap that suited his size, dodging Wilder's every attack. A rapier blocked all possible movements, forcing his opponent to move and dodge within a very small circle.

Wilder had fought countless battles against the barbarians at Watchtower, weathering many storms, but tonight's duel was his most frustrating. The knight opposite him, more beautiful than any woman, was a textbook example of martial arts in both movement and swordsmanship. Most importantly, he could clearly sense that his opponent hadn't used her true strength at all; she was treating this duel like a game!

"Damn it! I'm not fighting anymore! I'm not fighting anymore!" Wilder, who was losing confidence with each fight, yelled, threw down his sword and shield, and sat down on the ground in despair.

The alcohol had evaporated, and the strenuous exercise had left Dion with fine beads of sweat on his forehead. He sheathed his rapier, looked down at Wilder, and said with his chin raised, "I won."

He then looked around at the audience, raised his head, and said, "You men who always talk about violence, who else wants to taste defeat?"

Upon hearing this, all the men were displeased.

Soldiers, soldiers, foreign warriors, and some civilians who were confident in their martial skills all stood up, demanding to fight Dion to defend the dignity of men.

Looking at the dense, dark crowd in front of me.

Dion raised his rapier, smiled, and walked to the tavern entrance, provoking the challengers with a disdainful look and a defiant gesture: "Fighting them one by one is too troublesome. Ten or twenty, come at me all at once!"

The onlookers fell silent upon hearing Dion's words.

Is this guy insane?! One person trying to take on dozens of people?!

Dion drew a trail of light through the air with his rapier, leaving a blur, and said again, "Didn't you hear me? Pick up your weapons and let me see if you men are all show and no substance."

The challengers were furious, and all sorts of weapons were distributed to everyone, shifting the battlefield from the tavern to the commercial street.

Under the cool moonlight, amidst a bustling crowd, hundreds upon hundreds gathered on this commercial street. A swordsman dressed in white casual women's clothing held up the hem of her skirt in one hand and carried a rapier in the other. Facing her stood twenty-nine opponents, wielding spears, greatswords, and giant axes.

Dion slowly raised his rapier, pointing it to the sky, his voice ethereal: "Let's begin."

Before the onlookers' eyes could even register what was happening, a white figure, accompanied by the flash of a sword, was locked in battle with the challenger under the moonlight.

It's hard to imagine that an 80-centimeter-long sword could perform so many movements: thrusting, parrying, slashing, and parrying. Each attack landed precisely on the enemy's weak points: eyes, throat, wrist. More and more challengers lost their fighting ability and withdrew from the battle.

"Is he a man or a woman?" a resident asked unconsciously, watching the exciting fight on the street.

Someone answered his question: "Does it matter whether he is a man or a woman? All I know is that his swordsmanship is enough to earn him the title of 'Sword Saint'!"

In the blink of an eye, twenty-nine opponents fell one after another to Dion's sword. The knight dressed as a woman was panting heavily, his head covered in sweat, but his face was filled with joy and excitement.

Dion raised his sword high above his head, and a gentle breeze swept by, scattering this declaration of victory into the cheering crowd.

Someone sniffed hard and asked their companion, "Can you smell something fragrant?"

His companion didn't answer the question, but simply gazed in rapt attention at Dion's elegant and beautiful figure, murmuring to himself, "I think I've fallen in love with this knight..."

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The following morning, Alfonso was taking inventory of supplies and weapons at the Knights' headquarters. As he listened to others discussing the duel of the previous day, he suddenly remembered something and asked, "Where's Wilder? He should be here now, handing over the defense duties to me. Where is he?"

A subordinate replied, "Lord Alfonso, the defense officer hasn't reported to headquarters today. Someone saw him at the entrance of the arbitration tribunal."

"The arbitration tribunal? If he doesn't work at headquarters, what's he doing there?!" Alfonso put down the list in his hand, looking puzzled.

"My lord! My lord! Something terrible has happened!"

Alfonso frowned as he watched a soldier stumble and run towards him, shouting.

The soldier pointed outside the door, panting, and said, "There are over two hundred people gathered outside the 'Holy Order Arbitration Court,' and nothing we do can disperse them!"

Alfonso was taken aback and hurriedly asked, "What happened?! Is it because the arbitration was unfair?"

The soldier shook his head, wanting to say something but not knowing where to begin. After a long pause, he finally managed to utter a single sentence.

"Those people all seem to be going to woo Lord D'Eon..."