There were no scars on his face, but his eyes were as sharp as a hawk's, and his gaze swept over the Light Sect's ranks, stopping on Knight Henry.
Standing in the center of the open ground, his hands clasped behind his back, his voice was deep and powerful: "Light Sect, who among you will fight?"
Henry's face darkened, clenching the sword hilt so tightly that his knuckles turned white, he was about to step forward when a hand pressed on his shoulder.
He turned his head to see Duke standing behind him, the white robe shining softly in the sunlight.
"I'll go." Duke's voice was soft.
Henry was taken aback: "Your Grace Duke..."
Duke did not explain, walking past him towards the center of the open ground.
His steps were unhurried, the white robe gently swayed in the morning breeze, the golden sun patterns on its hem shimmering in the light.
He did not ride a horse, wore no armor, and carried no weapons, just walking alone to the open ground.
