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But when he saw his uncle, the peace officer who had taught him swordsmanship, struck down by a sword and lying in a pool of blood, that little bit of confidence in his bushy eyebrows shattered like glass.
He didn't dare entertain any thoughts of resistance in his heart; after all, resistance meant immediate death, but if he cowered in the crowd like a quail, perhaps he could delay his demise!
At this moment, the figure of a man appeared unbidden in his mind.
A figure that was even shorter and frailer than him.
During the swordsmanship competition in the servant training, the person turned the impossible into possible, and reversing his defeat, he had beaten him.
If he were here, would he dare to draw his sword against them?
After some thought, he shook his head; chances were he wouldn't dare either.
After all, the gap in strength was simply too great.
