"She is mine, Doctor!"
Despite his exhausted stamina and barely being able to stand, the Hound still forced himself to lift the heavy longsword, staggering a step forward to completely shield Arya behind him.
He bluffed by raising the longsword with one hand, but the tip trembled slightly. Pointing straight at Corleone, he roared with fierce countenance but weak resolve: "Dare to come one step closer, and I'll kill you... just like I killed that guy!"
Looking at this stubborn fellow, Corleone remained silent, not mocking his obvious weakness.
He approached a few more steps until the distance between them shortened to the bottom line acceptable to the Hound, then dismounted calmly.
Schwing—!
With a crisp sound of metal friction, Corleone drew his own sword.
Oh, it was Stole's before.
"No!"
Seeing Corleone stepping forward with the blade, and the Hound also taking a threatening step, Arya screamed.
She pounced forward, hugging the Hound's armored boot tightly, shouting: "He is helping me! It's him!"
"It was his idea for me to create chaos and persuade Halson to resist Stole!"
After the bloody lesson just now, she finally learned to clarify things before the conflict escalated.
"What?"
A trace of astonishment flashed in the Hound's single eye. He subconsciously looked down at Arya, then looked up sharply at Corleone.
Quickly reviewing what happened during the day in his mind, he indeed tasted something different.
However, just as the Hound was about to relax, he found Corleone still silent, holding the sword level, continuing to approach with steady steps.
Clearly not tall or burly, but that posture was extremely oppressive.
"Don't come closer!"
Even with Arya's explanation, this threatening action made the Hound extremely wary, and he warned sternly again.
Fortunately, after this shout, Corleone finally stopped a few steps away from them.
The Hound panted heavily, trying to maintain his tough posture: "Although I don't know why you want to help us, Doctor."
"But she is my prisoner now. I'm taking her away, now! Immediately!"
After he stated his position, Corleone finally spoke: "I did make such a plan, but..."
"What good does that do me, Lord Clegane?"
His voice was very calm, as if discussing the ownership of a piece of cargo.
Hearing this, the Hound straightened his back: "Good?"
"The good is that you won't die in vain. Is that enough?"
"Oh?"
Threatened like this, Corleone tilted his head, wearing an expression as if he were really considering it seriously.
This expression made the Hound think he was afraid, so he turned to leave with Arya.
"Not enough."
"What?"
The Hound almost thought he heard wrong, turning his head to stare at Corleone with wide eyes.
"I said..."
Corleone looked up. The moonlight filtering through the leaves reflected brightly in his eyes.
For a moment, the Hound felt as if the other party had seen through his flesh and blood, piercing the disguise of his appearance!
"The conditions you offer are not enough."
Ignoring the Hound's inner thoughts at this moment, Corleone continued: "I am a person who loves discussing business."
"However, business must be equal for both parties."
"Obviously." He said lightly, his gaze sweeping over the trembling tip of the Hound's sword, moving to his pale face.
"The conditions you offer are not fair, my lord."
Saying this, he took another step forward.
This step made the Hound's heart sink completely.
He knew his bluff was about to be seen through.
Normally, he could beat five guys like Corleone with one hand, but now having exhausted all his stamina, the Hound had no confidence.
He hadn't eaten for three whole days!
Gritting his teeth, the Hound tried to persuade him one last time: "I have no Gold Dragons for you, not a single copper!"
"Long before being caught by those bastards, all my money was robbed by that despicable guy Beric Dondarrion. They had no martial virtue; I lost the trial by combat but they confiscated most of my property, leaving me only a horse and armor."
"If not for that, I wouldn't have starved for three whole days!"
The Hound explained angrily because he instinctively thought Corleone was biting onto him for those illusory forty thousand Gold Dragons.
However, the other party's answer surprised him greatly.
"No, no, no..."
Corleone shook his head slowly: "Forty thousand Gold Dragons is indeed tempting, but I'm not after them."
"Dondarrion and his Brotherhood Without Banners are almost invincible in the Riverlands. I have no reason to snatch food from a tiger's mouth."
Saying this, his gaze circled the Hound and Arya, and he grinned: "I want you... oh no, both of you."
"To owe me a favor."
This request completely exceeded the Hound's expectations, even confusing him a bit.
Owe a favor?
Is he fucking crazy?
He thought Corleone would make more specific demands, like asking for his armor, weapons, or even asking him to kill a specific person.
But "owe a favor"?
What was this?
What normal person would make such a request at this life-and-death juncture?
Looking at Corleone's calm face, for the first time, the Hound felt this strange doctor was much weirder and more dangerous than he imagined.
"...Fine!"
Although he didn't understand, the Hound didn't want to tangle with this strange guy anymore, just wanted to get away as soon as possible: "I owe you a favor, both of us do. Can we go now?"
Saying this, he pulled Arya, turning to leave.
"Wait..."
Sure enough, Corleone's curse-like voice sounded from behind again.
"What now!" The Hound was completely impatient, growling irritably.
This damn doctor was simply more annoying than the Mountain!
But Corleone remained bland, stating in a leisurely tone: "You are not serious, my lord. Your answer was too casual, meaning you haven't taken the weight of this favor to heart at all."
"You didn't even ask my name."
"Enough!"
The Hound was so irritable he was about to explode, just wanting to get rid of this madman quickly: "I remember! I'll fucking remember!"
"No, you won't remember."
Corleone still shook his head, his eyes sharpening.
"People are always forgetful, especially about things they don't want to remember."
"I need you to remember this favor today for a lifetime, and when I need it, no matter what, you must repay it."
"So, to make a deep impression on you..."
Before his voice fell, he stepped forward quickly, the longsword in his hand swinging fiercely forward!
Clang!!!
The Hound subconsciously blocked with all his might, only to find nothing in front of him.
He turned his head in astonishment, only to see Corleone's blade, unbiased, just blocking a blade silently stabbing from the shadows beside him!
Corleone exerted force with his wrist, parrying the blade, turned his head, and grinned at the shadows, his tone carrying a bit of teasing: "You arrived very slowly."
"What, 'Steelshanks' got rusty?"
"...Captain Walton?"