Hunting is actually a grueling chore for hunters.
They have to carry gear, set traps, lie in the snow eating unpalatable dry rations, and wait for prey to appear.
Even then, there's a high chance of failure. Even for an excellent hunter, the success rate for each hunt rarely exceeds fifty percent.
But for nobles, hunting is a pleasure. They have their own hunting grounds.
For example, the Wolfswood is essentially the Stark's hunting ground, and the Kingswood is the royal hunting ground.
Before the hunt, servants cordon off an area and drive out deer, wolves, and other game, with hounds chasing the prey during the process.
As for the nobles, they only need to sip tea, ride their horses leisurely, draw their bows, and aim.
In other words, for common hunters, hunting is an "Assassin's Creed" game; for nobles, it's a "shooting gallery."
There is a fundamental difference between the two.
Right now, Jon felt like a noble on a hunt. His soldiers had surrounded The Mountain, and under his command, they were driving the enemy like panicked prey, exhausting their stamina with every desperate flight.
By now, The Mountain and his soldiers felt their armor was no longer solid protection but a heavy burden.
They could manage at most one more charge or relocation before they were completely at the mercy of others.
The Mountain leaned on his greatsword, panting heavily. Watching Jon approach with his men under the morning sun, he knew that today he would either be captured or die here.
Using his abnormal height to scan the surroundings, he suddenly realized Jon's army wasn't as numerous as he had imagined. He couldn't figure out what was going on, and he was too tired to care.
After Jon completely surrounded The Mountain, Martyn finally arrived. All the officers and tribal leaders under Jon's command were now present.
Achieving such a victory in their first battle, defeating such a formidable enemy—at least for now, they looked like a cohesive unit.
This army wouldn't be inferior to any other force in the North.
"Lord Jon." Martyn squeezed his way to Jon, his tone filled with apology, respect, and gratitude.
However, Jon didn't even glance at him. Instead, he turned to the herald beside him and said, "Go tell The Mountain that I challenge him to a duel. If he wins, I'll let him go."
"My Lord?"
"My Lord, you don't need to do this."
"My Lord, please don't take the risk!"
As soon as Jon finished speaking, everyone around him voiced their opposition.
The Mountain was already at a dead end; they could simply grind him down.
And everyone had seen The Mountain's strength, especially the Northern soldiers who remembered the Battle of the Green Fork vividly.
Moreover, not long ago, Jon had shot him in the eye, knocking him off his horse. Yet, the heavily armored Mountain still stood up. It was terrifying.
Although Old York believed Jon's skills were top-tier, facing such a monstrous opponent was still too risky.
Martyn, despite being ignored earlier, also tried to dissuade him.
Although he hadn't seen Jon's martial skills firsthand, the current situation didn't require taking such a risk.
Jon understood their concerns. Through this victory, his soldiers had basically integrated into a capable fighting force.
But Jon believed it wasn't enough.
After this battle, he planned to incorporate House Darry's troops into his own. They would become the "mid-level officers" Jon desperately needed.
This would cause dissatisfaction among the tribal officers Jon had temporarily selected.
To ensure his "reorganization" plan went smoothly, he needed higher prestige to push it through. Killing The Mountain in single combat was the perfect way to establish that prestige.
Furthermore, The Mountain was exhausted. Defeating him now wouldn't be difficult.
Also, Jon wanted to end the battle as soon as possible. Darry was only a day or two's march from areas controlled by the Westerlands army. Delaying too long could lead to unforeseen accidents.
"I've made my decision. No more arguments." Jon turned to the herald again. "Go! Tell him I challenge him to a duel!"
The herald was a warrior from the Howling Mountain tribe. He had long heard of Jon conquering Fire-Cache Peak.
Therefore, he also believed Jon could kill The Mountain easily and ran excitedly to The Mountain's formation.
"My Lord, the bastard wants to duel you!" the pimply squire said with disbelief, tinged with the ecstasy of finding a lifeline in a desperate situation.
Perhaps The Mountain might not win a tournament joust because of all the rules, but in a fight to the death, the squire had full confidence in his lord.
"I heard him!" The Mountain said with a frown, the pain from his eye socket making it hard to concentrate.
By now, The Mountain's face had swollen around the eye socket, making his already oversized head look even more bloated, so much so that he couldn't put his helmet back on.
This pain acted like oil on the fire of his rage.
Since Jon had offered, he naturally accepted.
Jon and The Mountain met between the two armies. Jon wasn't tall; standing before The Mountain, he barely reached past the giant's stomach, maybe up to his chest.
Young Jon had realized his bastard status early on and often brooded, skipping meals, which stunted his growth.
But he was not yet sixteen. Both Rhaegar and Lyanna had tall genes, so Jon figured height wouldn't be an issue; he still had time to grow.
However, facing off now, the soldiers on both sides saw the disparity.
The Mountain's soldiers felt a sense of "this is in the bag," while Jon's followers, despite Sora believing he was omnipotent, sweated for him.
Sora clutched her fists to her chest. This time, she couldn't stand in front of him.
"If I beat you, you let me go?" The Mountain asked Jon, his gaze suddenly turning vicious. "I might just kill you outright."
Jon didn't answer directly. instead, he smiled at The Mountain's swollen, hideous face.
Suddenly, Jon chuckled. The Mountain asked strangely, "What are you laughing at?"
"I plan to capture you alive, then sell you to the Martells. You raped Elia and killed her children. The Martells will surely pay a good price to torture you." Hearing this, The Mountain's face darkened.
He realized his best outcome today was to die fighting here.
But before that, he had to kill Jon!
The giant monster roared, swinging his massive greatsword in a cleaving strike at Jon.