Chapter 5: Yala's Death
Yala's reaction was swift.
Apart from one or two experienced old hunters who went to investigate the soldiers' movements.
Yala forcefully ordered all the working men to return and bring the most lethal scythes, hoes, and axes, standing guard near the camp in case the worst happened.
Meanwhile, Yala and a few spokespersons quickly discussed the situation.
"How did they get here so fast? And what are they doing in this place? Is there a war?" Pockmarked Face was filled with anxiety.
The old man's face was full of worry. He said, "No, it's not a war... According to the hunters, there are about a hundred people, and a dozen of them are wearing bronze armor."
"If it were a war, there would be too few people."
"If it were for tax collection or patrol, there would be too many people."
Yala pondered and suggested a possibility,
"This is a private matter of the nobles, perhaps a marriage alliance, or some other business... It could be the nobles of Argos City, and given the number of people, it could even be the royal family!"
"If it is a private matter, then they will not care about us..."
"If they unfortunately encounter us, then we will say we are villagers from nearby."
Everyone nodded.
So they quickly gave the order.
They instructed the villagers to unify their story, saying they were villagers from nearby who had paid tribute for decades.
After a while, the two hunters who went out to investigate returned.
They brought back even worse news—
"They are coming in our direction."
In fact, there was no need for the hunters to say more. When they returned, some villagers with keen eyesight could already see the dust rising in the distance.
Those soldiers did not bypass Canaan but entered this area through the gap in the three surrounding mountains, heading straight towards them.
Yala had a sense of foreboding.
The soldiers soon discovered the village, and it was too late to avoid anything.
He and a few spokespersons dressed neatly and reluctantly went to the village entrance to meet the arriving soldiers, praying in their hearts that they did not come with ill intent.
Soon, the soldiers stopped at the village entrance.
The Centurion, clad in shining bronze armor with a red cloak billowing behind him, had fierce eyes visible under his helmet, indicating he was a ruthless killer.
He walked out of the soldiers' formation like a lion, standing at the village entrance, coldly staring at the crowd with various expressions.
Yala thought of many things to say, including flattery, deception, and even threats.
But the Centurion's first words made all of Yala's prepared speeches vanish—
"Why are you in the King's hunting ground?"
"We... we are from a nearby village..."
The old man trembled, trying to say what they had prepared earlier.
However, the Centurion suddenly shouted,
"Then go back to your village!"
The Centurion's shout was like that of an enraged lion.
The old man was so frightened that he couldn't hold his cane and almost fell to the ground.
Yala quickly supported the old man.
He stared silently at the Centurion.
The Centurion paid no attention to Yala. He stood at the village entrance, looked around, frowned, turned his head, and said something to the person next to him.
He looked at Yala and snorted coldly: "I don't remember there being a village here during last year's inspection."
"And I don't recall any village being built in the King's hunting ground..."
"Do you have a land grant personally bestowed by the King?"
"In the land of the Kingdom of Argos, any territory requires the King's recognition and personal grant."
"Otherwise,"
"it is considered rebellion."
"And I, as the Centurion of the Royal Guard,"
"have the authority to execute rebels."
The Centurion's words were like nails, piercing everyone's hearts.
They trembled with fear, sweating profusely.
Everyone looked at Yala. Yala was the backbone of everyone. If even Yala was trembling with fear... then there would be no hope left.
Fortunately,
Yala was not moved at all. He was not intimidated by the Centurion's words.
Or rather, since that night when Yala met the Lord, he would no longer be intimidated by anything.
"I do not."
The Centurion suddenly drew the bronze sword from his waist, and the soldiers behind him also raised their spears.
"But I will obtain the King's recognition and trust!"
Yala stared directly into the Centurion's wolf-like eyes, confronting him with unyielding determination.
"Do you know what you are saying?"
"How could someone like you be worthy of the King's favor?!"
The Centurion's bronze sword pointed at Yala's neck.
Yala stood firm, clenching his fists in defiance.
"Yes."
"I will surely obtain the King's favor and become a brave warrior..."
"And if you kill me,"
"you will be personally breaking the King's blade!"
The Centurion looked at him, observing Yala's tall but thin frame and his eyes that seemed to burn with fire. He pondered for a moment, then drew another bronze sword from the waist of a nearby guard and tossed it to Yala.
He snorted coldly: "At least I sense a bit of courage in your words."
"I will give you a chance."
"A duel."
"If you can defeat me, then you will prove that you are indeed a qualified warrior. And I will take you to meet the King. If at that time you can obtain the King's personal land grant..."
"Then I will have no more to say."
"But if you lose... then I think the King will not want a giant in words, and when you die, these people will be illegal, and it will be my duty to execute the illegal."
Yala took the bronze sword and let out a slight sigh of relief.
He had guessed right.
The Centurion before him was a man who loved to fight and was loyal to the king.
Therefore, only by provoking him in this way could Yala, and all the people of Canaan, have a glimmer of hope.
However, this also meant that all their hopes rested on him alone...
At this moment, the villagers of Canaan also arrived at the scene with scythes and axes.
When they heard that Yala was going to duel the soldier leader, everyone's hearts were in their throats.
Yala used to be the toughest fighter in the area, so when they heard that Yala was going to duel someone, they still had a glimmer of hope.
But when they saw Yala's opponent's shining bronze armor and exaggerated muscles, that hope suddenly seemed faint.
In the village, there were more than a hundred villagers in tattered clothes, nervously watching Yala and silently praying for him.
Outside the village, more than a hundred solemn soldiers calmly watched the duel, knowing it was a battle with no suspense.
Yala took a deep breath, held the sword with one hand, slightly lowered his center of gravity, and pointed the sword tip at the Centurion.
The Centurion also assumed the same stance against Yala.
The two began to circle each other slowly, staring into each other's eyes, trying to find an opening.
The Centurion struck first. He lunged forward, fiercely thrusting the bronze sword at Yala's neck.
Fortunately, Yala reacted quickly, dodging sideways just in time to avoid the blow.
Vicious and decisive, like a venomous snake.
Indeed, he was a seasoned soldier, far deadlier than the local bullies.
Yala seized the Centurion's moment of vulnerability and attempted to counterattack,
However, as soon as the bronze sword swung down,
In an instant, the Centurion turned around and forcefully parried Yala's attack with a powerful swing.
Yala was thrown off balance by the heavy blow, stumbling backward and nearly falling.
But as soon as Yala regained his footing, the Centurion's next thrust was already aimed straight at his face. Yala barely managed to block it, but when the bronze swords clashed, Yala felt a numbing pain in his wrist, and the sword flew out of his hand, landing several meters away.
There was no time to react. The Centurion's next strike followed immediately!
Yala's wife didn't even have time to scream. She could only watch in horror as the sword struck.
"I can't lose..."
Yala gritted his teeth, and his left hand suddenly shot forward, forcefully grabbing the thrusting bronze sword. A sharp pain surged from his palm, rushing to the top of his head.
However, Yala still held the bronze sword tightly, even as the sharp blade cut through the flesh of his palm, and blood gushed out.
He did not retreat but advanced.
Taking advantage of the moment of hesitation,
He punched the Centurion in the face with his right hand.
The Centurion cried out in pain and staggered backward, his mouth bleeding slightly.
Yala, mad with rage and bathed in blood, rushed forward, his left hand dripping with blood, the wound so deep that the bone was visible. With his right hand clenched in a fist, he charged forward.
However, courage alone was no longer enough.
The Centurion swung his sword and easily plunged it into Yala's chest. Blood sprayed out, splashing across the faces of the onlookers.
It all happened so fast that the villagers hadn't even reacted yet—
"Yala... Yala is dead.