Martial Arts Competition!

In the square of Mefino Castle, the sunlight cast a golden glow, illuminating the entire arena with dazzling brightness.

The area around the fence was crowded with people. Norman knights chatted in small groups, leaning against their weapons, while servants ran around serving wine and food. The air was filled with the smell of horses' sweat, the metallic scent of iron, and the aroma of roasting meat, and the noise surged like a tide.

The banners of the twelve lords fluttered on the high poles, with the blue coat of arms of the Autherville family standing out most prominently.

Tancred stood beside the registration desk, adjusting his chainmail. The Earl's gift had bestowed upon him a fine visor helmet, its iron rings tight, the guard extending downwards to obscure half his resolute face. A one-handed battle axe hung at his waist, and a kite-shaped shield slung diagonally across his back, its surface adorned with the white sable fur pattern of the Conteville family and a red serrated cap. The warhorse bestowed upon him by Earl Richard had been brought before him; it was a strong Norman warhorse, its mane neatly trimmed, its saddle adorned with silver buckles.

"Sir, are you really going to go?" Little John swallowed hard, his eyes filled with worry and excitement. "Those knights look so fierce! What if..."

"Shut up, kid!" Old John tapped Little John on the head and hissed, "Little Tanker knows what he's doing. Don't jinx it. You watch closely, this is a Norman tradition!"

Bashir chuckled and looked around, saying, "Sir, the prizes for the horsemanship competition are pretty good. The first-place winner gets fifty gold coins and can make a request to Drago! If you win, our mercenary group will be rich!"

Tankred smiled, ignoring them, and instead shouted in his mind:

"System, give me some points, all of them to Constitution!"

He now needs to improve his physical fitness in all aspects, especially since he has discovered that improving his physical fitness can enhance his ability to make quick decisions in life-or-death situations, much like Spider-Man's spider sense!

With a shudder, the system gave him feedback, and combined with his [Competitive Athlete] trait, his Vitality rose to 5, Constitution to 14, and his Polearms and Riding Skill both increased by 5 points. Now his Polearms Proficiency was 41, and his Riding Skill was 44, approaching the level of an elite knight. With the addition of [Lancer] and [Agile Warhorse], he was confident he could gain the upper hand in lance duels.

"Ding! You have officially participated in the Knights Tournament - Horsemanship, and the [Competitive Athlete] trait has been activated."

A loudspeaker in the center of the square blared, announcing the start of the competition. The infantry first took to the field, knights wielding swords or axes, locked in combat within the enclosure, the clanging of metal against metal filling the air. The archers followed closely behind, arrows piercing the air, riddling the targets with holes. The cheers of the crowd surged like waves, one higher than the next.

Finally, it was the equestrian group's turn.

The host, a Lombard dressed in a magnificent robe, announced the rules in both Latin and Norman French:

"A jousting contest, a duel of lances! Each rider charges three times, the one with the highest score wins. Hitting a shield earns one point, hitting armor earns two points, and knocking the opponent off their horse earns three points! If the opponent cannot continue the match after falling from their horse, that person wins outright!"

This is the classic form of medieval jousting. Tancred knew that in real history, such jousting was often a stage for knights to showcase their martial skills, win glory and rewards, but it was also often accompanied by broken bones, falling from their horses, and even death.

The equestrian category had sixteen participants, divided into eight groups for one-on-one elimination. Tancred drew the third group, and his opponent was a Norman knight loyal to Humphrey, a tall and slender man riding a grey warhorse.

"Hey kid, you're one of Richard's men, aren't you?" The knight reined in his horse at the sidelines, sneering, "I heard you're just a newly registered mercenary? Watch out, or I might just send you flying with one spear!"

Tancred did not reply, but simply put on his nose shield and picked up his lance.

The shaft was made of hard oak and was about twelve Roman feet long. Although the spearhead was blunt and rounded, the extremely fast speed of the horse during the charge still generated enormous kinetic energy, which could easily shatter bones.

The two men rode their horses into the two ends of the fence, fifty paces apart.

As the host sounded the horn, the first wave of the charge began!

(Please remember 1110.com for the fastest chapter updates)

Tankred lightly spurred his horse, which began to trot and then gradually accelerated. The whistling of the wind echoed in his ears. He leveled his lance, its tip aimed at the center of Odo's shield. [Agile Horse] made the horse more responsive, and he subtly adjusted its direction to avoid his opponent's feints.

The knight opposite charged forward without fear, and the two clashed like two bolts of lightning.

With a "crack," Tankred's spear tip struck Odo's shield squarely, sending wood chips flying, while his opponent's spear grazed Tankred's shoulder armor, sparking a shower of sparks.

"One point! Tankred is in the lead!" the host announced loudly.

The crowd cheered loudly, and Count Richard nodded in approval from the stands. Old John and Young John clenched their fists nervously, while Bashir shouted excitedly, "Well done, sir!"

In the second round, the opponent changed tactics, slightly deflecting the spear tip and aiming at Tanker's armor. Tanker, with its 11 Constitution and the armor-piercing bonus from the [Lancer] class, thrust the spear tip straight at Odo's breastplate.

"Whoosh!" The two men's lances grazed each other's armor at the edge, an attack that was almost a suicide strike, and each man scored two points.

In the third round, the opponent got anxious!

He charged at full speed, his lance aimed straight for Tankred's helmet. Just as the two men and their horses were about to collide, [Agile Warhorse] allowed Tankred to maneuver his horse slightly to dodge. The opponent's lance tip grazed his shield, while Tankred's lance struck his opponent squarely in the shoulder.

"Clang!" The knight opposite fell off his horse, raising a cloud of dust.

Victory! Tank Redler turned around and raised his rifle in salute. The crowd erupted in thunderous applause.

「叮！你用骑枪在比武大会上击败了一位诺曼骑士，长杆兵器熟练度+2（41→43），骑术+2（44→46），个人经验+50，当前等级Lv6（100/500）」

It seems the rewards for defeating enemies in simulated battles have been significantly reduced!

Tankred left the arena panting, and Little John immediately scurried up to him, handing him water: "Sir, that was awesome! The way that guy flew out was hilarious!"

"Well done," Old John nodded, but still cautioned, "Don't let your guard down, the next opponent will be even stronger."

「叮！你用骑枪在比武大会上击败了一位诺曼骑士，长杆兵器熟练度+2（43→45），骑术+2（46→48），个人经验+50，当前等级Lv6（150/500）」

「叮！你用骑枪在比武大会上击败了一位诺曼骑士，长杆兵器熟练度+2（45→47），骑术+2（48→50），个人经验+50，当前等级Lv6（200/500）」

In the next two rounds, Tankred won consecutively. The cheers from the crowd grew even louder, and Count Richard laughed heartily in the stands:

"Look, that kid is one of my men, Richard Drogon's!"

Tankred's riding skill also reached 50 points, and sure enough, the system notification popped up on time:

"Ding! Your riding skill has reached 50. You can now choose the next specialization:"

[Man and Horse as One]: Riding reduces the accuracy penalty for ranged weapons by 15%.

【Wind Chase】: Your mount's maximum movement speed +10%, and the entire party's movement speed +2%.

"Add points to [Whirlwind Ride]!"

Tanker didn't hesitate for a moment. Increasing his maximum movement speed would grant him greater kinetic energy, and combined with the [Lancer] skill, he might be able to kill that damned traitor with a single blow!

After a short break, the final match began. Tankred changed to a new lance and carefully inspected his horse.

"Kid, you sissy who can only write poetry, do you think you're worthy to fight me? You're nothing but a piece of trash. Did you become a mercenary by selling your ass to Richard?" Ralph growled provocatively.

His traitorous mercenaries burst into laughter.

The horn sounded, and the two men moved apart to opposite ends of the fence, and the crowd quieted down.

"Start!" With the host's command, the first round of the assault began.

"Blood Axe" Ralf, today is your death day!

Tankred accelerated, urging its warhorse forward, and gradually leveled the tip of its lance.