Chapter 64: Masvillo~

“I guess we won’t get to see Miss Masiweiluo and Miss Viloseline’s match until the preliminaries.”

Zijiang set her phone on the table, cupping her chin in her hands.

Her pink ponytail hung over her shoulder, the ends brushing the tabletop.

“The preliminaries are going to take a lot of days.”

Her voice lilted at the end.

Not the professional upswing she used during streams—

This was genuine anticipation.

Her pale violet eyes stared at the wall opposite the table, but her focus wasn’t on the wall.

It was somewhere farther away.

Orlando sat across from her.

The small restaurant was on the edge of the inner city.

From the arena, they’d walked east, crossed two streets, and turned into a narrow alley.

There it was.

The place wasn’t big—

Seven or eight tables, walls painted cream yellow, with a few old knight tournament photos hanging on them.

The knight platter Zijiang ordered arrived.

A large oval plate loaded with three kinds of sausage, two thick-cut slices of ham, a small pile of sauerkraut, and a few roasted potatoes.

A tiny dish of mustard sauce sat on the edge.

Zijiang stabbed a piece of potato with her fork, dipped it in the mustard, and popped it into her mouth.

Her cheek bulged.

“Delicious.”

Orlando dug in too.

The fried rice was dry and fluffy, mixed with chopped sausage bits and scrambled egg.

He scooped a spoonful, chewed.

Not bad.

“Oh, right.”

Zijiang set her fork down.

“Mr. Orlando, did you happen to see a little girl with silver hair named Olivia in the group?”

Orlando’s spoon froze in midair.

For about half a second.

“Uh.”

“Well.”

“No.”

Zijiang’s ears twitched beneath her cat-ear headphones.

“Is that so?”

“Captain Prunier said there’s a little girl with silver hair in the group, named Olivia. About this tall.”

She held her hand level with the table edge, indicating a height up to her chin.

“Silver-white hair, silver eyes. Super cute.”

She chewed a piece of ham.

“You haven’t seen her?”

“No.”

Orlando scooped another spoonful of fried rice.

Chewed.

Swallowed.

He knew what Zijiang was talking about.

Rantesti City.

The Red Sun Group’s stronghold.

Prunier had shoved him into Zijiang’s livestream.

Comments scrolled by.

“So cute.”

“Silver-haired loli.”

“Where did Ziji find her?”

“Is she new?”

“Followed.”

“So what did you think of that little girl, Ziji?”

“She’s super cute.”

Zijiang’s eyes lit up.

“That silver hair, those eyes, that—”

She traced a circle in the air.

“—that aura. How do I put it? You take one look at her and just want to buy her candy.”

“If she could come on every stream, the traffic would skyrocket.”

’What? Have her come every time? She’s a total social anxious—that would kill her.’

“Of course that’s impossible.”

“I could never make an underage girl stream.”

She took a sip of water.

The cat-ear headphones hung around her neck, the ear pads brushing against her collarbone.

Orlando set his spoon down.

He picked up his water glass and downed the rest in one gulp.

The water slid down his throat, a chill spreading from his chest to his stomach.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

’At least Ziji isn’t one of those sick loli freaks.’

“Check, please.”

—

Afternoon.

The arena’s ring lights were all on.

Every single lamp blazed down from the circular broadcast platform, illuminating the grass in the center of the field so clearly that each blade cast a short shadow.

The stands were packed.

From the edge of the grass to the highest row, heads pressed against heads.

Support signs were everywhere.

Most had simple sketches of Masiweiluo’s face—

Long brown hair, silver-white plate armor, a lance held upright at her side.

“Ladies and—distinguished—audience—!”

The last syllable stretched for over ten seconds.

“The Grand Tournament Preliminaries—Second Half—First Match—!”

The roar from the stands surged up, making the runic patterns on the barrier shields tremble.

“Let us welcome—the undefeated in seventy-two bouts—six-time regular season champion—the pride of Wolfgang—!”

On the projection screen, Masiweiluo’s face filled the entire display.

“Ma—si—wei—luo—!”

A figure emerged from the player tunnel.

Long brown hair fell from under the knight’s helmet.

The silver-white plate armor gleamed with a cold metallic luster under the ring lights.

On the breastplate was the horse clan’s galloping steed emblem.

Every piece—

pauldrons, bracers, knee guards—

Fit perfectly.

She carried a lance, its tip pointing upward at her side.

The shaft was taller than she was.

She walked into the arena, neither fast nor slow.

Her horse hooves struck the grass, each step firm.

Her opponent already stood in the center of the field.

A wolf clan male, a head taller than her and twice as broad.

He wore dark gray half-plate armor, with pauldrons shaped like wolf heads.

An old scar ran from the corner of his mouth down to his jaw—

Wolfgang “Suigu.”

He gripped a two-handed battle-axe, its blade bigger than Orlando’s head.

He rested the axe on his shoulder, watching Masiweiluo approach.

The referee raised the flag.

“Begin—!”

Suigu charged.

The battle-axe swept horizontally, its blade cutting through the air with a low, guttural howl.

A swath of grass flattened from the wind pressure.

Masiweiluo didn’t retreat.

She raised the lance from her side.

The tip pointed forward.

She took a step forward.

Her hoof pressed into the grass, leaving a shallow print.

The lance tip struck the flat side of the axe blade.

Not a head-on collision—

A deflection.

The axe’s force was guided upward and to the side, passing over her head by less than a fist’s width.

She pivoted in the same motion, sweeping the lance shaft across her waist.

The shaft slammed into Suigu’s side.

His armor absorbed part of the blow, but his body still lurched sideways.

The audience let out an “Ohhh—!”

Suigu steadied himself.

The axe came down vertically.

The blade was wreathed in a faint red glow—

Not magic, but heat from the high-speed friction with the air.

Masiweiluo sidestepped half a step to the left.

The axe smashed into the grass, sending dirt and torn blades flying.

She didn’t look back.

The lance switched from her right hand to her left, the tip rising in an upward thrust.

Suigu blocked with the axe handle.

The clang of metal was muffled by the barrier shield, sounding as if it came through a thick pane of glass.

Then Masiweiluo began her assault.

The lance moved like an extension of her arm.

Thrust, flick, sweep, tap.

Each strike was too fast to track the tip’s position—

Only silver-white arcs of metal under the ring lights.

Suigu’s battle-axe spun into a gray blur, deflecting most of the blows.

But every strike forced him back a step.

Finally, Suigu had no ground left.

He stopped at the blue barrier.

Masiweiluo’s assault didn’t let up.

Light gathered on the lance into a concentrated mass.

Then she thrust with all her strength.

Light surged from the tip.

It lifted him entirely off the ground.

He flipped in the air and crashed heavily onto the grass.

The battle-axe flew from his grip, bounced twice on the ground, and shot right through the edge of the barrier shield.

The referee raised the flag.

“Winner—Masiweiluo—!”

The audience exploded.

Cheers, stomps, the clash of support signs—

All mingled together.

The entire arena floor vibrated faintly.

The runic patterns on the barrier shields pulsed, brightening and dimming like a heartbeat.

Masiweiluo set the lance upright at her side.

The silver-white glow around her body slowly faded, then vanished.

She turned and walked toward the player tunnel.

—

Arena lobby.

People.

People everywhere.

Reporters swarmed in from every direction—

Camera operators, microphone holders, voice recorder carriers.

They formed a circle around Masiweiluo, less than two meters in radius with her at the center.

Shutters clicked in a continuous burst.

“Miss Masiweiluo—what are your thoughts on today’s match—!”

“Miss Masiweiluo—the Business Federation spokesperson says they’d like to offer you a new sponsorship contract—!”

“Miss Masiweiluo—the Candlelight Knights’ management company is willing to discuss signing terms with you—!”

“Miss Masiweiluo—I heard a federation agency is also—”

“Miss Masiweiluo—!”

“Miss Masiweiluo—!”

Masiweiluo stood in the middle of the crowd.

Her knight’s helmet was off, tucked under her arm.

Her long brown hair draped over her shoulders.

The silver-white plate armor reflected the fill lights from the cameras.

She said nothing.

Her lips were pressed together.

Her gaze passed over the heads of the reporters in front of her, fixed on the wall at the far end of the lobby.

Zijiang stood outside the crowd, phone held up, camera aimed at the center.

She rose on her tiptoes, then lowered herself.

She shifted left, then right.

Her pink ponytail swung behind her.

“Sorry—let me through—sorry—!”

She squeezed forward two steps, only to be pushed back by a camera-carrying dog clan member.

“Sorry—I’m from the federation platform—I have a media pass—!”

She squeezed in again.

Got pushed out again.

Comments scrolled across her phone screen.

“So many people”

“Go Ziji!”

“Can’t squeeze in”

“Masiweiluo’s surrounded”

“Reporters are scary”

Zijiang lowered her phone.

“Sorry.”

She looked at Orlando.

Her pale violet eyes held a hint of disappointment.

“Too many people.”

She glanced back toward the crowd.

“Probably can’t interview Miss Masiweiluo.”

Then someone walked in from outside the crowd.

Golden hair, antlers, warm gold light armor that shimmered with a soft luster under the camera fill lights.

When she stepped into the crowd, several reporters on the outer ring automatically made way.

Viloseline stopped next to Masiweiluo.

She didn’t say anything.

She just stood there.

Her light golden eyes swept over the surrounding reporters, one by one.

Those she looked at lowered their microphones slightly.

The shutter sounds thinned out.

“Everyone.”

Her voice wasn’t loud.

It drifted like steam rising from a cup, dispersing as it rose.

But the entire lobby heard it.

“Miss Masiweiluo just finished her match.”

She paused.

“Let her rest.”

Silence for about two or three seconds.

Then the reporters began to back off.

Not a sudden scattering—

A slow retreat.

Microphones withdrew, cameras lowered, voice recorders shut off.

The circle expanded from a two-meter radius to five meters, then dispersed.

Reporters drifted in twos and threes to other corners of the lobby, looking for other contestants.

Viloseline turned to face Masiweiluo.

Her light golden eyes met brown ones.

“Masiweiluo.”

She didn’t say “Miss Masiweiluo.” Just the name.

“Want to go for a drink?”

She paused.

Her fingers lightly brushed against the armor at her waist.

“Not alcohol.”

The corner of her mouth moved.

It wasn’t a smile—

The edge of one, curving up just slightly, then settling back.

“Because I don’t like alcohol either.”

Masiweiluo looked at her.

For a moment.

Then she gave a slight nod.

Very light.

Her knight’s helmet was still tucked under her arm.

Viloseline walked toward the lobby exit.

Her golden hair swept across her warm gold armor.

Masiweiluo followed beside her.

Silver-white plate armor and warm gold light armor walked side by side, casting two parallel shadows under the magic lamps overhead.

Zijiang’s phone was still raised, camera tracking their backs.

Comments scrolled by.

“Viloseline is so cool”

“Saved the day”

“They look great together”

“Candlelight Knight and Light Knight”

“Good on her for not drinking”

“Where are they going?”

Zijiang didn’t say anything.

The camera followed the two silhouettes walking side by side, from the center of the lobby all the way to the exit.

Afternoon sunlight poured in from outside, turning the two figures into dark cutouts—

“Got it.”

The comments continued scrolling.

“Ziji scored big today”

“Iconic shot”

“Screenshotted”

“Thanks, streamer”

“See you tomorrow”