Although this set of equipment could indeed buy him a few more breaths on the battlefield, against the King's Hound, it was clearly a futile struggle.
However, before the crowd could continue their laughter, Jon screamed internally in a desperate threat.
"System! System-bro! Big Brother System! If you don't plan on switching hosts, then get serious for me—AH!"
The instant his voice fell, the crowd, who had been watching the show, saw a blur suddenly leap out, charging straight at the unprepared Hound.
With a loud CLANG, the iron-rimmed greatshield smashed straight into Sandor's face, forcing the powerful warrior to stumble backward, nearly falling to the ground.
[The Intelligent Rise and Grind System is at your service. One-Click Auto-Pilot for worry-free leveling!]
At this moment, for the first time, Jon felt surprisingly reassured by this unreliable System.
Immediately after, he felt his body become light. Leaving another afterimage in his wake, he thrust the jousting lance forward, charging at his opponent with unstoppable momentum.
Seeing this, the onlookers' eyes widened in surprise.
As qualified nobles, combat was their main profession.
Therefore, everyone watching, men and women alike, had basic common sense.
With the armor Jon had just put on, plus the greatshield and weapons, an average elite soldier would probably only be able to jog, and their combat endurance wouldn't last more than fifteen turns of an hourglass.
Even a noble knight fighting on foot would last half an hour at most.
But no matter the profession, no one should be as swift as Jon was right now.
Of course, people also turned their gaze to the boy's opponent.
Perhaps for the Hound, such a load wouldn't have much impact.
After all, the stronger the warrior, the slower their reaction speed... My ass!
The reason people looked at the Hound was because they understood that the stronger one was, the easier they could handle heavy weights, allowing them to strike with even greater speed.
Just as the crowd shifted their gaze, the two collided.
Jon, wielding the lance, had the absolute advantage.
The six-foot-long lance became an extension of his attack just by leveling it slightly, forcing the Hound to retreat again and again.
If the space weren't so limited, Clegane's best choice would have been to run far away until Jon exhausted himself to death.
However, in this enclosed space, the Prince's sworn shield only retreated a few steps before being pinned against the wooden railing.
Seeing there was no way to dodge, the Hound raised his massive greatsword—taller than a man—over his head and chose to clash head-on.
With a deafening CRACK, the greatsword smashed into the lance, instantly shattering the wooden shaft.
The lance Jon had specifically chosen exploded into a cloud of wood chips, momentarily blinding the Hound. This allowed the transmigrator to raise his kite shield and slam it viciously onto the Hound's helmet.
From the start of the fight until now, the transmigrator had held the absolute advantage, leaving the onlookers thrilled and marveling at the boy's strength.
As the beneficiary of the One-Click Auto-Pilot, Jon felt incredibly awesome.
As the saying goes, cheating for a moment is fun, but cheating all the time is always fun. He was having a blast right now. After all, being able to beat down the Hound would inflate anyone's ego.
However, before Jon could get too cocky, the Hound, who had been passively taking a beating, finally stopped holding back.
He yanked his greatsword back and thrust forward. In just the span of a breath, he pierced through the iron-rimmed shield and tore a gash right next to Jon's visor.
In the next moment, the System, which had been so diligently grinding, immediately issued a prompt.
[Detected that the Host is under attack. This Intelligent Auto-Pilot session has ended. Thank you for using our service. We look forward to your next visit. Remember to leave a 5-star review!]
Then, the transmigrator felt his body stop abruptly, as if he had been planted into the ground.
Although Jon regained control instantly, the greatsword in the Hound's hands was already chopping down from above with tremendous force.
Seeing this, Jon felt his soul leave his body.
Throughout the entire Game of Thrones, no matter how you ranked combat power, the Hound would likely be in the top five.
With his current trash-tier strength, this was like a level 1 noob leaving the starter village and immediately encountering the final boss.
However, the transmigrator didn't give up. Instead, disregarding all dignity, he dropped straight to his knees, barely dodging the strike, which caused Clegane to freeze for a split second.
But the transmigrator had planned for this. Seizing the opportunity, he executed a slide tackle and wrapped his arms around the Hound's legs. Then, he surged upward with all his strength, flipping the Prince's bodyguard onto the ground.
In the next second, he was straddling the Hound's shoulders. His armored fist hesitated not one bit as it hammered down onto the custom dog-head helmet.
Pinned underneath, the Hound showed no fear. He tossed his greatsword aside, using one hand to protect his vulnerable neck while using the other to return the favor on Snow.
Then, the two knights abandoned all semblance of image, grappling on the ground like mischievous children in a mud pit.
The clashing of iron armor had none of the aesthetic beauty of a knightly joust, causing Robert, who had originally wanted to watch the show, to frown.
"Enough! Stop this farce!"
The voice of the Protector of the Realm brokered no refusal, but the two on the ground were locked in a stalemate.
Then, the Gold Cloaks and Red Cloaks pulled them apart and pinned them down in front of the King.
Looking at the two dirt-covered fighters, Robert suddenly turned to look at Ned and Cersei.
"Since it started as a farce, let it end as a farce. And I say, Ned, this Snow of yours is much more interesting than your solemn face."
When making this comment, Robert looked pointedly at his brother, clearly teasing Jon's earlier actions of disregarding honor and etiquette, doing whatever it took to win.
Regarding such a dishonorable choice, although the Warden of the North didn't say anything, he felt a bit embarrassed and could only bow slightly in response.
Seeing this, the surrounding nobles, sensing the show was over, tacitly dispersed. Clearly, there was no more fun to be had by staying.
However, just as the onlookers started to walk away, His Majesty the King dropped another bombshell.
"...That Snow. Compared to my idiot squire, I like you much better, you little bastard!"
Hearing this, the nobles froze for a moment, then cast glances of envy in unison.
No one who managed to stay by the King's side was an idiot.
Robert's meaning was clear: out of respect for Ned, he intended to give this bastard an important position.
And for the other nobles circling the King, begging for favors, this felt worse than being killed.
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