The Ross Warriors facing Anwar cautiously maintained a T-stance as they advanced; they were all veterans who had experienced many battles, and their battle formation was extremely skilled, but the enemy they faced this time put immense pressure on them.
Anwar suddenly took a large stride forward, and the long spear, poised in his hand, thrust out with him. The Ross Warrior in front of him immediately raised his shield to block the attack.
But at this moment, Anwar suddenly withdrew his strength and pulled back his long spear.
Just as that Ross Warrior thought this was a feint, a sudden barrage of thrusts came down like a storm onto his instinctively raised shield.
The dull thudding sound of the spear tip striking the shield echoed in a continuous rhythm, like drumbeats, but in the Warrior's ears, it was the sound of death. He had experienced so many years of warfare, yet this was the first time he had faced such a sight; the first time he had seen someone capable of such high-frequency thrusts.
Each time the long spear struck the shield, it would kick up a small amount of wood chips, and at this frequency of attack, the wood chips quickly accumulated, which looked quite intimidating. The Warrior was temporarily intimidated by this and was completely powerless to counterattack against this onslaught.
But the attacked Warrior then suddenly realized that the attack in front of him had stopped, and when he looked back, he saw that the Persian was swinging his long spear, forcing back his companion who had attacked from the other side.
The Warrior, who had been suppressed, seized this opportunity and immediately joined the counterattack, but was then also blocked by the long spear, which was being wielded like a windmill.
Anwar wielded the long spear with great force, forcing back the enemies attacking him. The sweeping long spear carved lines on their shields and occasionally parried swords attempting to strike him.
The Persian was not using the long spear as a spear at this moment, but as a staff. While this did not fully unleash the long spear's power, it was necessary to force back the enemies.
Although this scene, in reality, made it difficult for either side to inflict any decisive damage, from a spectator's perspective, it was exquisite. The besieged individual wielded the long spear in his hand like a windmill, parrying the attacks of the two besiegers.
The audience's cheers rose in waves, one higher than the last. Such a visually engaging duel was truly rare.
Anwar was particularly dashing in this "performance." Before his long spear, the two besiegers were incredibly disheveled, only able to frantically meet the Persian's successive attacks. Their arms and bodies had taken many blows, and the unprotected parts had even been scratched and bled by the sharp blade of the long spear.
"It really feels like watching a cold weapon movie."
Rostislav, watching all this, had some distant memories stirred. In his previous life, many spear duels were, in reality, fought by wielding the spear like a staff. While this looked very good, its actual lethality was only so-so.
"However, it seems his resume is not faked at all. His skill alone is enough to secure a high position with any Prince."
The Moscow Prince was actually somewhat suspicious of Abdul's account of Anwar's resume. A Christian who was once a high official in Persia sounded a bit strange no matter how he heard it.
After all, merchants tend to exaggerate; making the dead sound alive is just a basic skill for merchants, so the Moscow Prince was cautious.
Now it seemed Abdul had been honest with him; this man's abilities were real, and his performance satisfied the Moscow Prince even more.
And in the arena, the two combatants temporarily stopped, having reached a tacit understanding, instinctively separating from each other.
All three on the field were incredibly exhausted; the intense battle just now was a tremendous test for both their minds and bodies.
Anwar picked up a handful of fine sand from the ground again, rubbed it in his hand, and then, under their wary gazes, scattered the sand with a playful smile, spreading his hands. Such a small trick only worked the first time.
Then the Persian suddenly attacked, and the speed of this change almost caught the two Ross Warriors off guard.
Anwar rushed between the two, and they instinctively jumped apart, warily watching the Persian who rushed towards them.
Anwar's next move was very simple: he directly kicked at the fine sand in front of him, raising a large cloud of dust that directly coated the face of one of the Warriors.
Yes, the trick of throwing sand with his hand couldn't be used, but he could kick sand.
The Warrior's eyes were momentarily filled with sand, and his raised sword and shield involuntarily dropped, leaving him completely exposed. Then the long spear heavily struck his helmet.
That blow was terrifying; it directly knocked the Warrior unconscious, and he fell straight to the ground. And it was immediately after delivering this blow that Anwar's long spear retracted, and the butt-end of the long spear injured the calf of the approaching Ross Warrior.
The leg injury caused the man to fall directly to the ground. He never imagined that he would be injured in that spot.
When this Warrior also fell, the outcome was already decided.
All of this happened in a flash; the battle ended in less than twenty seconds, which greatly surprised the audience. These laymen instinctively cheered, while the experts looked solemn; this man was not simple.
"Good, good, good, very good! Cheer for the victor!"
Finally, Rostislav brought the match to a close. The Moscow Prince had risen at some point and was leisurely clapping his hands.
Since the Prince had done so, everyone present naturally had to follow suit, and for a time, cheers and applause were bestowed upon the Persian.
And Anwar calmly accepted all of it; this was what he deserved.
"This Persian is really strong! I feel like he'll be our biggest rival once we enter the competition."
"Yeah, this guy is much stronger than the weaklings we've seen."
"Seeing such a strong opponent, are you two still planning to participate in the assembly?"
"We have to try. How else can we show ourselves?"
In a noble box at the racetrack, three people were watching the scene below and commenting. These three were Varu, Sogier, and Sokar.
As an influential noble of Northeast Rus', Varu could easily reserve a private box.
After arriving in Moscow, the three of them had been watching the martial arts assembly these past few days, while Sogier and Sokar intended to participate in the assembly, aiming for a top-three finish, and then pledge allegiance to Rostislav.
Both had the confidence to achieve this, a conclusion they reached after observing the contestants for some time. After all, this martial arts assembly was more of a talent showcase, where one displayed their martial arts before the crowd to gain the Prince's recruitment.
And they did this to increase their value. A warrior who emerged from a martial arts assembly and a leader who fled with his subordinates in disarray to seek refuge had vastly different values.
Varu also greatly encouraged them to do so; he very much hoped to have two more powerful colleagues, especially since these two colleagues owed him a favor.