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After playing a long-distance game for so long, this was Sekler's first time facing his opponent directly.
"Is that the White Lion? Why is he wearing red armor?" Winters on the hillside was baffled, "Why is he charging into the river again??"
What did the White Lion want to do? Winters soon understood.
Although the river water did not freeze in winter, it was still bitterly cold.
Yet the knight in red armor rode his horse into the Confluence River, intending to swim across while embracing the horse's neck—and wearing armor.
Due to the angle of view, most people on the battlefield could not see what was happening in the river.
Standing on the western slope, Winters could see everything clearly:
The river was only a dozen meters wide, but the red-armored knight was washed away by the torrent for at least fifty meters, several times his head was submerged and then he surfaced again, barely making it to the dry bank, a hair's breadth from death.