The storm annihilates, ending in a single sigh; through a thousand trials, the heart remains steadfast.
On the battlefield.
Green flames streaked across the sky, erupting into a roaring blaze the moment they landed. Stannis's vanguard ships were instantly engulfed by the spreading fire, and countless soldiers leaped into the sea to survive.
However, those jars of wildfire actually continued to burn on the surface of the water, magnifying the fear in people's hearts infinitely.
"It has come to this after all, Teacher."
On the battlefield not far from King's Landing, the sound of clashing blades rose and fell.
Joffrey Baratheon, clad in gold armor and a red cloak, wearing a stag-horn helmet, walked slowly through the flames. The roaring fire flowed like a stream toward the sea, surging in thousand-layered waves toward him, yet it did not harm him in the slightest, not even touching the hem of his clothes.
Joffrey had originally intended to bring a warhammer, but upon learning that the leader of Stannis's vanguard was his teacher, Borin Storm, he decisively abandoned that decision.
Because he had never won a single match when using a warhammer against his teacher.
Holding his longsword, he looked at his former swordsmanship teacher, Borin Storm, who was likewise walking toward him to face him.
"I haven't been your teacher for a long time, Joffrey Hill, you despicable bastard pretender of House Lannister. Return the throne to House Baratheon at once; His Majesty Stannis is the true king."
Borin Storm pointed his sword at Joffrey, his eyes filled with fury, though a faint, imperceptible trace of melancholy also flowed within them. Borin Storm sighed inwardly: human emotions are truly strange.
Looking at Joffrey, Borin Storm seemed to see the figure who used to strive and swing a sword before him within The Red Keep. They were connected because of King Robert Baratheon, and they had turned against each other because of him.
As the bond begins and ends, the dust shall also settle.
Inside The Red Keep, Borin Storm and the young Joffrey Baratheon stood opposite each other with wooden swords; Borin looked at the stubborn Joffrey with a smile on his face.
On the battlefield, Borin Storm and the tall Joffrey Baratheon stood opposite each other with steel swords; Borin looked at the serious Joffrey with fury on his face.
"Let me see how much you've improved."
Borin gave a cold snort and was the first to strike, lunging with his sword. His footsteps were fast and heavy, kicking up ash from the ground.
"Come at me!"
Seeing this, Joffrey remained calm and composed, raising his longsword to meet the attack.
The steel swords of both sides clashed incessantly. In the blink of an eye, they had exchanged over a hundred moves. Borin Storm's tide-like offensive left Joffrey somewhat frazzled.
Fearing that his stamina would fail if the fight dragged on, Borin directly employed a sharp sword technique, thrusting straight for Joffrey's helmet.
As Joffrey held his sword horizontally to block, he used great force to press down on the opponent's blade, sliding his own edge toward Borin's hilt. A sharp screeching sound rang out as sparks flew before their eyes.
As the two swords crossed, both pairs of eyes remained fixed on each other.
Borin retracted his sword with his right hand. Once the tip was clear, he gripped the hilt and gave it a sudden twist, sending the sharp edge sweeping in an arc toward Joffrey's neck.
Joffrey took half a step back and leaned his head back, narrowly avoiding the blade, which only sliced off a few strands of his hair.
Capitalizing on the momentum of Borin's forceful swing, Joffrey saw an opportunity and suddenly raised his longsword for a vertical cleave.
But his teacher, Borin Storm, had already seen through his intention and let out a cold snort.
Just as Joffrey raised his sword, Borin delivered a straight left punch directly to Joffrey's right elbow.
The punch was heavy and powerful, leaving Joffrey's right arm numb, and the longsword involuntarily slipped from his hand.
"Didn't I tell you not to overextend your movements!"
Even as Borin Storm shouted his reprimand, his sword quickly thrust back toward Joffrey.
To his surprise, Joffrey performed a side-step and a spinning dive, narrowly dodging the thrust to the right, and used his extended right foot to kick up the falling longsword.
Joffrey's left hand followed up quickly. After catching the sword with his left hand, he spun around and stabbed toward Borin Storm's back.
This strike came from a very tricky angle, making it difficult to defend against. However, Borin Storm performed a parry as if he had eyes in the back of his head.
He suddenly held his sword behind his back, blocking the unexpected strike with the blade, and followed up with a kick that sent Joffrey flying over a meter away before quickly retreating to maintain his distance.
"It seems you've learned a lot in secret while I was away, kid."
Borin Storm's words sounded relaxed, but Joffrey could clearly sense that his attacks were no longer as forceful as at the beginning, and his gasps were becoming more frequent.
"Teacher, your sword is dull."
Joffrey used his longsword for support as he slowly climbed up from the ground, shaking his numb right arm. Clusters of fire gathered and swirled around him.
Unlike Borin Storm, this was now his home field. Although the Red Comet had not yet streaked across the sky and the magical revival had not fully begun, as long as the flames were not extinguished, his stamina would be inexhaustible.
At this moment, the wails of countless soldiers echoed across the battlefield; it sounded as if the Royalists were gaining the upper hand.
Borin Storm scanned the battlefield and finally stopped holding back, lunging forward with his sword. After closing the distance with a few steps, he delivered a horizontal sweep, forcing Joffrey to hold his sword vertically with both hands to block.
At that moment, Borin Storm used the momentum to dart past Joffrey's left side. He quickly bent down to pick up another longsword from the battlefield and swung it at him in one fluid motion.
Joffrey was shocked. He never expected his teacher to have a hidden trick—a technique he had never been taught—and could only barely dodge.
Amidst a surge of pain, his gold stag-horn helmet was knocked off, and a long wound was slashed across his left cheek, with several drops of blood slowly trickling down.
Joffrey suddenly recalled the day a year ago when his father, King Robert Baratheon, was about to pass away. His teacher, Borin Storm, had said he would teach him a unique skill, but the lesson was never completed because they were summoned to the bedside.
Furthermore, the incident of the final decree broke out later, causing him and his teacher to go their separate ways, and he never had another chance to encounter it.
"Teacher, I never learned this move of yours," Joffrey said with a smile, seemingly completely indifferent to the wound on his face.
"When a cat teaches a tiger, it must keep one trick for itself. Since you want to learn so much, let your teacher give you one last lesson."
Before his voice had even faded, Borin Storm attacked again. His swordplay was swifter than before, making it even harder to withstand.
Joffrey hurriedly parried several times, only to see his teacher, Borin Storm, using the swordsmanship of The Stormlands with his right hand and the swordsmanship of King's Landing with his left.
This technique truly took Joffrey by surprise; it was remarkably similar to Zhou Botong's Technique of Fighting with Both Hands from the novels of his past life.
The Stormlands swordsmanship was passed down from the first Storm King; the style was bold and expansive, with a magnificent aura.
The King's Landing swordsmanship was passed down from the true dragon Targaryen dynasty; the style was swift and sharp, unpredictable and ever-changing.
The two styles integrated offense and defense, with an offensive that was sharp and decisive. In less than a few rounds, Joffrey was covered in blood, and even the armor on one arm had been stripped away.
Knowing he would surely die if this continued, Joffrey's eyes flickered. Seizing the right moment, he suddenly hurled his longsword, catching Borin Storm off guard.
After all, just like in Xiangqi, one doesn't move the General on the very first step.
While Borin Storm blocked the sword horizontally with his right hand, Joffrey gritted his teeth and quickly closed in with his scabbard.
He used the mechanism built into the scabbard to trap Borin Storm's sword, pressing down with great force to force his opponent to bend his knees and retreat.
Borin Storm's left sword returned to strike with a thrust. Joffrey did not panic; instead, he stepped on Borin Storm's knee and performed a backflip to dodge the strike.
He then triggered the scabbard's mechanism. Three sections of steel tubing and a spearhead quickly popped out of the scabbard. Joffrey spun and maneuvered in mid-air, rapidly assembling them behind his back.
Upon landing, the long spear spun and danced around his waist.
At this moment, Joffrey's sharp edge was fully revealed.
Joffrey kicked the spear shaft forward with his heel, sending the tip rapidly toward his opponent. He struck out with the Azure Dragon Probes Its Claws; the spear technique was sharp and fast, immediately forcing Borin Storm back over a dozen meters.
The Yang Family Spear of Huaxia had thus reappeared in this other world!
The body follows the feet, the arms follow the body, the wrists follow the arms; all merge into one, creating a unified force throughout the body.
Joffrey pressed his advantage, turning to deliver a Venomous Snake Leaves Its Hole thrust aimed at the opponent's face, combined with a Wind-Returning Water-Stirring Sweep that struck Borin Storm's left hand, knocking the left sword away.
He then used Crossing the River Horizontally as a feint, pretending to pierce the left shoulder, and took advantage of the opening to strike with Iron Ox Plowing the Earth toward Borin Storm's right foot.
Borin Storm fell to the ground in pain, but upon falling, he used his right sword to sweep up flying sand, flinging it into Joffrey's face.
Joffrey dodged to the side and saw his opponent turn and run toward a burning wagon nearby that was transporting equipment and machinery.
In a heat of the moment, Joffrey gave chase without a second thought.
...
Sure enough, as soon as he entered the area, he felt it was exceptionally narrow, but it was already too late to retreat.
Just as Joffrey hesitated, Borin Storm suddenly slid out from beneath the wagon, his sword thrusting violently toward Joffrey's right hand.
Joffrey hurriedly pulled back his spear to block, diverting the sharp edge of the longsword elsewhere.
At that moment, Borin Storm used his left hand as a support point and delivered a sweeping kick that knocked Joffrey to the ground.
Joffrey was caught off guard by this move. Seeing himself falling, he quickly shifted his hand position to grip the end near the spearhead.
The moment he hit the ground, he used the iron spear shaft to strike Borin Storm's breastplate directly. The immense force sent the unable-to-dodge Borin Storm flying over three meters away.
AI Model: gemini-3.1-flash-lite
Joffrey had just stood up to catch his breath when a burning sack filled with grain was thrown at him.
Without time to think, he thrust his spear upward, tossing the heavy sack over his head to the ground behind him.
As he turned around, he saw that his teacher, Borin Storm, was less than five meters away.
Seeing Borin Storm's imminent attack, Joffrey raised his spear to defend himself, but simultaneously, he frowned and disassembled the assembled spear back into its original segments.
After all, fighting in such a confined space with a long spear was tantamount to suicide.
Joffrey threw the spear segments with great force; Borin Storm barely dodged, but when he recovered, he found that Joffrey had already closed the distance rapidly.
Seeing his teacher, Borin Storm, distracted, Joffrey's strong body slammed into his chest like a meteor.
The blow was heavy and powerful, causing Borin Storm to spit blood and lose his grip on his longsword.
Just as Joffrey Baratheon seized the moment to pursue with the final spear tip in hand, Borin Storm wiped the crimson blood from the corner of his mouth and drew a sharp dagger from inside the armor on his right leg to meet him.
The moment Borin Storm's dagger clashed with Joffrey's spear tip, the two moved in unison, their eyes burning like torches, simultaneously kicking at each other's chests just as they had during their sparring sessions at The Red Keep years ago.
Borin Storm was kicked back, rolling over ten meters, while Joffrey only retreated three meters before steadying himself.
...
Dust and sand swirled, and ashes scattered in disarray.
"Teacher, why? Why would you betray me?" Joffrey said with a dark expression, walking step by step toward his teacher, Borin Storm, his eyes glinting with malice.
He could never come to terms with the betrayal of the person who was perhaps closest to him—his teacher.
In the past, his teacher Borin Storm, as a bastard from The Stormlands of low status, had been looked down upon, and it was he who had legitimized his status in the name of the King.
He had even granted him the position of Commander of the City Watch, commanding all the guards in King's Landing.
"From the moment you were a child and dissected a mother cat, then brought the kittens from her belly to show off to me, I realized that there was a bottomless darkness brewing in your heart."
"Is that all? Just because I dissected a mother cat? Teacher, have you reached such a simple conclusion? Do you not understand me at all?" Joffrey laughed, a mocking laugh.
"No, it is precisely because I know you too well. Beneath your upright and noble appearance lies a dark heart. I have always believed that the greatest difference between humans and beasts is the capacity for empathy, and you have none."
Borin Storm ignored Joffrey's laughter, speaking with a serious expression, his words resonant and forceful.
"Most importantly, you are not the son of His Majesty Robert Baratheon, but a bastard of House Lannister, the executioner who killed the King. You are a false king! I am here to carry out His Majesty the King's final decree to depose you and support his rightful heir, Stannis Baratheon, to ascend the iron throne."
Joffrey sighed. In those few short seconds, he thought of many things.
"Then let us settle this here. Today, we shall decide not only the victor but also who lives and who dies." Joffrey frowned as he said this, letting out a long sigh.
He closed his eyes for a moment in silence, then opened them abruptly, glaring with rage.
Borin Storm knew exactly what this gesture meant; it meant that Joffrey had made a firm decision in that instant.
As soon as he finished speaking, Borin Storm and Joffrey attacked each other simultaneously. Borin swung his dagger toward Joffrey's throat, while Joffrey thrust the spear tip toward Borin Storm's chest.
Joffrey knew his movement was a split second slower, but a surge of ferocity inexplicably rose within him. Relying on a sliver of desperate hope in the magic within his body, he went madly all-in to fight to the death.
A breeze blew past. Borin Storm looked at Joffrey charging toward him and, in a trance, seemed to see the child with golden hair who had once smiled and opened his arms to pounce into his embrace. His dagger faltered involuntarily.
But it was this hesitation that caused him to lose the initiative and the victory.
In that instant, Joffrey drove the spear tip through the armor and into Borin Storm's broad chest. Crimson blood splattered out, staining Joffrey's face and hair.
"Bleeding, bleeding, the little lion's spear tip is bleeding," sang Patchface of Dragonstone.
The dust settled. Borin Storm leaned powerlessly against a wagon wheel. "I am old after all," Borin Storm laughed, mocking himself.
"Teacher, this time, I won."
Joffrey dropped his weapon and knelt halfway on the ground, holding his teacher and letting him rest in his arms; perhaps this was the only way to alleviate some of the guilt of killing his master.
"Yes, Your Highness, you won in the end," Borin Storm said weakly.
"Teacher, am I a qualified student of yours? I didn't disgrace you, did I?" Joffrey's voice trembled; humans are not made of wood or stone, how could he be heartless?
After so much time, he realized he still deeply loved his teacher. That period of his life was destined to be unforgettable...
"Your Highness, if only you were truly my prince... You have always been... my pride."
On the verge of death, Borin Storm looked at his student before him with half-closed eyes. He knew that once he closed his eyes, he would never open them again.
"Your Highness, that song you sang the other day was beautiful. Could you... sing it for me one more time?"
"As you wish, Teacher."
"The rolling Yangtze River flows east, its waves sweeping away all heroes. Success and failure turn to emptiness in the blink of an eye; the green mountains remain, as the sunset fades and returns..."
Listening to Joffrey's singing, Borin Storm's life experiences flashed through his mind like a revolving lantern.
He remembered teaching Joffrey swordsmanship in The Red Keep. Back then, Joffrey only reached his chest, and every time he lost to him, he would pout in frustration, and he would always laugh and pat his head to comfort him.
He remembered when His Majesty Robert Baratheon, before his death, entrusted him to Eddard Stark and also hoped he would protect his son, Joffrey.
There is no going back; everything is beyond return...
Borin Storm looked back on his life: watching his parents die in a shipwreck; watching his beloved marry another; watching his closest eldest brother die of severe injuries; watching his eldest brother's son ascend the throne, whom he should have placed high hopes on.
Yet, his eldest brother's son was a bastard of House Lannister, a false king who killed his own brother. How fate plays with people. My life has truly been a failure...
"A pot of turbid wine brings a joyful reunion; how many events of the past and present are all left to be discussed in laughter..."
There is no feast that does not end. The singing stopped, and the guest had to leave...
Borin Storm lay in Joffrey's arms, gasping for breath, stroking Joffrey's head with his blood-stained hand, and smiling with trembling lips: "Your... Your Highness, class is dismissed."
As the words fell, his hand dropped powerlessly, and his half-closed eyes shut uncontrollably.
Before he died, he seemed to see the stubborn, pouting, and defiant Joffrey from his childhood. It turned out that image had always firmly occupied his heart.
...
A torrential rain came crashing down from the sky, gradually extinguishing the flames everywhere.
Joffrey looked up at the dark clouds in the sky with an expressionless face. Raindrops flowed down the corners of his eyes; it was impossible to tell if it was rain or tears.
"Your Majesty, Stannis's main fleet is coming. We should return to prepare our defenses. If I may be so bold, Your Majesty, you look like you are crying right now."
Sandor Clegane ran over to inform Joffrey of the war situation and made an insensitive remark.
Because Joffrey believed Sandor Clegane would surely fear the flames, he had only allowed him to defend the area near King's Landing. Now that the fire was almost out, this fellow finally had the courage to come out.
"No, it is raining." Joffrey Baratheon slowly lowered his head and sighed.
"After the war ends, bury my teacher next to my father."
Joffrey looked at the corpse of his teacher, Borin Storm, a surge of indescribable melancholy churning in his heart.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The land was devastated, and ashes danced in the sky. Perhaps having witnessed the immense power of wildfire, the unextinguished flames still tugged at everyone's hearts.
After a long while, the rain stopped and the clouds dispersed; the bright moonlight spilled down from the sky.
Joffrey turned to reorganize his troops, only to find the countless soldiers in shining golden armor under the moonlight, holding their swords high, looking at their King with longing and fanaticism.
They cheered, they laughed, and thousands of words converged into two: Long live!
It was unknown who started it, but one person began and ten thousand followed. They hailed their King, shouting long live, shouting long live...
What a blood-boiling scene this was...
Yet no one could understand the loneliness and pain in Joffrey Baratheon's heart at this moment. He had lost the person closest to him, and it was someone Joffrey had killed with his own hands.
Joffrey Baratheon murmured: "So this is what it means to be a King? How pitiful."