Riverrun's Great Hall had completely become a living hell.
Walder Frey's unseeing head rolled down the steps like a tattered ball.
It finally came to rest in a pool of filth mixed with wine and blood.
His cloudy old eyes were wide open, reflecting the flickering candlelight on the dome, and also reflecting the tomb he had personally dug for his family.
Hundreds of House Frey soldiers froze in place, their butcher knives unable to fall another inch.
They looked at the man standing at the head of the hall, casually flicking the blood from his ice blade onto the lavish carpet, feeling their souls tremble.
That was not a man.
That was the God of Death who had walked out of the Land of Always Winter in the North.
"Father... Father is dead..."
"He killed Lord Frey!"
In the crowd, a trembling voice broke the frozen air.
It was Black Walder Frey.
One of Walder Frey's most ruthless sons.
He looked at his father's headless corpse, a flicker of horror in his eyes, quickly replaced by the madness of a cornered beast.
Surrender?
They had orchestrated this bloody massacre, betraying the sacred guest right.
Surrender now?
What awaited them would be a judgment more painful than death!
The entire House Frey would be nailed to the pillar of shame in history, infamous for ten thousand years!
They were going to die anyway!
"He's only one person! We have hundreds!"
Black Walder drew his longsword, his mean face, so similar to his father's, flushed red with excitement.
"Kill him! Avenge my father! Carve a bloody path for House Frey!"
His roar instantly ignited the dying will to survive in the hearts of all the Frey men.
Yes!
They still had hundreds of men!
And hundreds of sharp swords!
What did that mean?
Even if the opponent was truly a devil, they would tear a piece of flesh from him!
"Kill—!"
"For Frey!"
Under the dual stimulation of survival instinct and family honor, their remaining sanity completely collapsed.
Dozens of Frey soldiers closest to Lynn let out bestial roars.
Wielding their swords, they charged at Lynn, who was at the head of the hall, from all directions!
They would use their numbers to completely overwhelm this devil!
However, Lynn just stood there quietly, not even raising an eyelid.
The nine black-robed Others behind him seemed to receive a silent command.
They walked forward calmly, with perfectly synchronized, millimeter-precise steps, towards the crowd.
No battle cries, no slogans.
Only nine silent black figures and nine frost longswords, condensed from thin air and emitting an eerie blue chill.
"Clang—!"
The first steel sword that struck an Other's ice blade instantly shattered as if it had hit ten thousand years of profound ice.
The enormous recoil caused the Frey soldier's tiger's mouth to split, and his longsword directly broke into pieces.
Before he could even scream, the ice sword had already drawn a concise arc.
"Pfft."
A head flew into the air.
From the severed neck, what spurted out was not hot blood, but a spray of icy blue mist.
This was just the beginning.
"Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!"
A series of crisp shattering sounds!
House Frey's proudly forged castle steel swords were as fragile as glass before the eerie ice blades.
Whether chopping or blocking, there was only one outcome.
That was to be shattered into pieces!
As long as there was no dragonglass or Valyrian steel, they were invincible!
A burly Frey knight tried to block with his heavy kite shield.
The Other made no fancy moves, just a simple forward thrust.
"Crack!"
The iron-plated wooden shield, capable of withstanding an axe blow, was easily pierced and shattered by the cold sword tip!
Next, it was the knight's heavy plate armor!
The knight looked down at his chest, disbelieving, and the last spark in his eyes quickly dimmed.
This was a massacre.
A massacre without suspense, and even without any aesthetic beauty.
Every swing of the Other's sword followed the most efficient principle of killing.
No superfluous movements, no unnecessary techniques.
Only the most precise cuts and the most fatal thrusts.
Their bodies seemed to feel no pain, ignoring all swords and knives striking them.
A battleaxe struck an Other's shoulder with a dull thud, but it couldn't even make its body sway, and instead, the weapon shattered.
And the knight who ambushed it was, the next second, split cleanly in half from head to toe, armor and all, by an inhuman force from the Other's retaliatory sword swing!
The Others simply could no longer be measured by the peak combat strength of humans.
They were just that unreasonable!
Inside the Great Hall, screams, the shattering of weapons, and the snapping of bones rose and fell, interweaving into the most bloody and terrifying symphony of death.
The Frey soldiers, who had been agitated and clamoring to defend their family's honor, completely collapsed.
What they faced were not enemies at all.
They were a group of tireless killing machines, unafraid of pain, and even death could not stop them!
"Devils... they are devils!"
"Run! Run away!"
The line instantly collapsed, and the Frey men threw down their weapons, crying and scattering like headless flies.
Their only thought was to get away from those black-robed Reapers.
But the main gate had already been locked by themselves.
They had nowhere to run.
The entire Great Hall became a confined slaughterhouse.
Lysa Arryn collapsed on the ground, trembling violently all over.
She watched those Frey family members who had just been fawning over her and pledging their allegiance.
Now being easily slaughtered like pigs and dogs!
Warm blood splattered on her face, and the strong fishy smell made her almost vomit.
She didn't want to die.
She absolutely couldn't die here!
Her mind was blank, and her survival instinct drove her to crawl on all fours towards a corner away from the battlefield.
She had to live!
As long as she could live, she would do anything!
Just as she crawled behind a huge stone pillar, thinking she was temporarily safe.
A pair of black boots suddenly appeared in her line of sight.
Lysa stiffly raised her head and met a pair of burning blue eyes.
It was an Other.
It had silently appeared before her at some point, and the ice sword in its hand was still dripping icy blue blood.
"Please, no... don't kill me..."
Lysa's psychological defenses completely collapsed at this moment.
She pleaded desperately, tears and snot smearing her face.
The Other ignored her pleas.
It slowly raised the ice sword in its hand, the tip pointing directly at Lysa's brow.
The shadow of death had never loomed over her so clearly.
It's over.
Everything is over.
However, just as the cold sword tip was about to touch her skin!
"Whoosh—!"
A sound of something cutting through the air suddenly rang out!
A black dagger, with an eerie spin, accurately shot onto the Other's sword spine!
"Clang!"
A crisp sound!
That indestructible ice sword was actually deflected by this small dagger!
A ripple appeared in the Other's blue eyes for the first time.
It turned its head and looked in the direction the dagger came from.
A black figure had appeared in the shadows of the Great Hall at some point.
He was also wearing a loose black robe, his hood pulled low, obscuring his face.
But his movements were even swifter and more agile than the Others.
The black-robed man didn't hesitate, as he threw the dagger, his body had already transformed into an afterimage, charging towards Lysa!
Another Other tried to intercept him.
But the black-robed man merely flipped his wrist, and several black caltrops were scattered on the ground.
The Other stepped on them, and although it wasn't pierced, the enormous impact still caused its movements to momentarily freeze.
That momentary freeze was enough!
The black-robed man, like a nimble civet cat, instantly rushed to Lysa's side, grabbed her arm, and pulled her up from the ground.
"Come with me!"
A familiar voice rang in Lysa's ear.
The Other's attacks followed one after another.
The ice sword in its hand transformed into deadly blue afterimages, blocking all of the black-robed man's escape routes.
However, the black-robed man seemed to have eyes in the back of his head.
He pulled Lysa, twisting and turning amidst the sword shadows.
Each time, he narrowly dodged a fatal attack by a hair's breadth.
In his hand, at some point, another strangely shaped dagger appeared.
Every collision with the ice sword produced a series of sparks.
He could actually... fight these monsters back and forth?!
Lysa was dumbfounded by this sudden turn of events.
She allowed the mysterious black-robed man to pull her, weaving through the flashing blades.
"Boom!"
The black-robed man slammed a black clay pot onto the ground.
A pungent thick smoke instantly erupted, enveloping the entire corner and completely blocking the Others' vision.
"Go!"
The black-robed man no longer lingered in battle, pulling Lysa and turning to crash into a huge tapestry nearby.
Behind the tapestry was a dark secret passage, only wide enough for one person to pass!
The two plunged into the secret passage, and the sounds of shouting and screaming behind them were quickly cut off.
The secret passage was pitch black, with only the gem embedded in the black-robed man's dagger emitting a faint glow.
Lysa was pulled by him, stumbling and running through the narrow passage.
Her heart pounded violently with tension and excitement.
She had survived!
She had actually escaped from that devil's grasp!
After running for an unknown amount of time, a glimmer of light finally appeared ahead.
It was a secret door leading outside Riverrun.
The two rushed out of the secret door, and the cold night wind, mixed with the dampness of the river, blew over them, instantly clearing Lysa's head considerably.
She gulped in fresh air, feeling as if she had returned from another life.
"You... who exactly are you?"
Lysa panted, finally asking the question in her heart.
"Why did you save me?"
The black-robed man did not answer.
He just turned around and slowly took off his hood.
When that face was exposed to the cool moonlight.
Lysa Arryn's breathing, at this moment, completely stopped.
It was a face she was incredibly familiar with.
Slightly thin, with a carefully trimmed goatee.
A pair of grey-green eyes always flickered with shrewd and inscrutable light.
Petyr Baelish!
"Petyr?"
Lysa's lips trembled violently; she couldn't believe her eyes.
Wasn't he dead?
In the Vale, she had personally seen his unseeing head... No!
Impossible!
That must have been Lynn's deception!
Petyr wasn't dead!
He was still alive!
He had been here all along!
He had been secretly protecting her!
At this moment, all the fear, all the despair, all the grievances, transformed into a torrent of ecstasy, instantly overwhelming Lysa's already fragile sanity.
"Petyr!"
She let out a shriek of joy and tears.
Like a swallow returning to its nest, she suddenly threw herself into the man's arms, clutching him tightly.
"I knew it! I knew you wouldn't die!"
"I knew you would come to save me!"
She babbled incoherently, burying her face in his familiar robes, sobbing loudly.
As if to vent all the grievances she had suffered these past days at once.
Littlefinger's body stiffened slightly, but quickly relaxed.
He reached out and gently patted Lysa's back.
His movements were gentle, but his eyes were a dead, icy cold.
Unfortunately, Lysa didn't notice this.
He slowly raised his head and looked in the direction of Riverrun's Great Hall.
A playful smile, understood only by himself, flashed in his grey-green eyes.
Meanwhile, inside the Great Hall.
Lynn stood in a pool of blood, looking at the broken tapestry and the deep secret passage behind it.
He didn't order a pursuit.
Because, there was absolutely no need... Lysa was about to suffer greatly.
Brynden the Blackfish walked to his side, his face full of anxiety and confusion.
"Lord Lynn! We can't let Lysa get away..."
"The enemy is too strong, and my guards couldn't stop him."
Lynn's voice was calm and unruffled.
"But you can rest assured, I will definitely find Lysa."
"A stray dog is nothing to worry about; the main business is important now."
Brynden could only nod reluctantly.
Compared to the chaos in The Riverlands at the moment, one Lysa was indeed insignificant.
He still knew what was more important.
Lynn turned around.
Looking at the remaining Frey family members who had surrendered and knelt on the ground, trembling, a meaningful smile appeared on his face.
Lysa must die.
But Lysa and Catelyn are related, and Catelyn is his mother-in-law.
Therefore.
Lysa could die at anyone's hands, but no matter what, Lysa absolutely could not die at his hands.
Even if Catelyn herself, the person involved, fully agreed and asked him to kill Lysa, he still couldn't.
It was all about his reputation.
He didn't want outsiders to gossip.
However, just because he didn't act didn't mean his subordinates wouldn't... and the Petyr he personally created would send her off properly...
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn luffy1898