king of ros

Chapter 420 Ending Hatred
When the impact started, whether it was Rostislav or Svyatoslav, their field of vision suddenly narrowed, limited to the front and side, and could only see a few people around them.

Both Rostislav and Sviatoslav kept an eye on each other, and they both knew that as long as the other's head was taken off, the war would be over.

The winner gets everything and the loser gets nothing.

The two had a great understanding, and no one disturbed them, and even cleared space for them. The Ross people have a soft spot for fighting alone, especially between warriors or leaders. This is also the poet The scene we sing about the most is also everyone's favorite scene.

Svyatoslav was the first to strike, and the point of his spear gleamed in the sun, piercing the Muscovite prince's chest.

The thrusting spear could not hurt Rostislav at all, everything seemed to be in slow motion in his eyes, because he had faced such a scene countless times.

With the help of horsepower, Rostislav swung his sword horizontally, pressed it with the strength of his whole body, and the tip of the sword cut into the wooden spear shaft.

At first Rostislav wanted to use a spear, but in the end he gave up, trusting his sword more than the spear.

The sound of galloping horseshoes reached Rostislav's ears, and it was extremely loud.

The sword in his hand returned to the position parallel to the horse, the wind blew the helmet decoration, the prince of Moscow turned the horse's head, and his arm was a little numb from the collision.

Svyatoslav also turned around, and threw the spear with its broken shaft to the ground.

"Well, nephew, it seems that those rumors about you are not all bragging."

"You look good, but it's a pity that you are worse than me."

The smell of gunpowder in the conversation between the two was very strong and full of hostility.

Beside them, the most elite groups of the northern and southern armies were fighting brutally, but they all left room for the pair of uncles and nephews to fight, and formed a circle with a tacit understanding to prevent all possible influences outer.

Svyatoslav smiled contemptuously, drew the sword from the scabbard, and rushed forward again.

The Grand Duke of Kyiv raised his sword and slashed at Rostislav's head, but the long sword of the Prince of Moscow was already waiting. When the sword collided, there was a loud sound of metal rubbing against each other.

Rostislav slashed at the opponent's reins, but it was a pity that Sviatoslav was also a veteran in cavalry and battle, and the gold and iron kept clanging to protect his reins.

The two horses began to spin, the Moscow warhorse jumped anxiously, the Kyiv warhorse bowed its head and jumped sideways, and Sviatoslav boldly let the horse dominate, waiting for an opportunity.

Rostislav grabbed the reins and controlled the horse. He felt something was wrong. He responded completely according to his second uncle's idea, and fell into his second uncle's logic!

Svyatoslav charged again, and Rostislav backed his horse, raising a cloud of dust, and the Grand Duke struck with his sword, but was blocked by the prince's sword.

Rostislav felt the power of this blow all over his body, sparks seemed to spark between the swords.

Rostislav counterattacked fiercely, and the blade kept flying in the air, breaking through the opponent's defense, and slashed on Svyatoslav's armor several times, making them appear broken, which once made the second uncle tired of coping.

After a brief but fierce struggle, Svyatoslav finally seized the opportunity to fight back. The Grand Duke of Kyiv raised his sword and stabbed it flat. Body.

The prince of Moscow snorted, and the pain hit him, but it made him more awake.

In the blink of an eye, when the opponent's sword was still resting on the hard metal, Rostislav swung his sword and cut off Svyatoslav's reins, causing him to lose his balance on the horse and almost fell down.

But Svyatoslav was an old cavalry general after all, he forcibly controlled the horse without a rein with his legs, regained his balance, and blocked Rostislav's sword only a few inches away from his face.

The two separated, and when they parted, the Grand Duke gave the prince's horse a sword, almost causing the horse to knock Rostislav off the ground, but Rostislav still controlled the horse.

"My nephew, you are really not simple enough."

Gritting his teeth, Sviatoslav said, the boy's slash almost caused him to overturn the car, and he got off the horse while talking.

And Rostislav dismounted silently. The horse was seriously injured, and it must not be usable in such a duel of masters.

His expression was not good, because there was severe pain coming from his waist, damn it, the armor couldn't withstand it, Vanigo blew so hard, but he pulled his hips at the critical moment.

Then they confronted each other like this, neither of them moved, or more accurately, they waited for the movement from the other side.

Out of the corner of the Prince of Moscow's eyes, he could see all around. Many soldiers had stopped fighting and concentrated on watching the duel between the two. Nothing could attract the soldiers' attention more than a duel between the leaders. The future of the battle also lay here.

The Prince of Moscow stepped forward, his boots sinking slightly on the soft ground. His configuration was the most standard northern warrior suit, long sword and round shield.

Sviatoslav was much wilder. He found an ax somewhere, and he walked towards Rostislav with a sword in one hand and an ax in the other.

The Grand Duke of Kyiv moved cautiously, his sword and ax kept changing positions, Rostislav put the shield in front of him, and the long sword was behind the shield.

"Saint Simeon!"

Sviatoslav attacked Rostislav's head very quickly and at a tricky angle. The prince of Moscow raised his shield to block. The second uncle's strength was surprisingly strong, but he could still withstand it.

The stab came to his shield like a storm, the dull sound of the sword point and blade hitting the shield sounded like a drumbeat, and from time to time, an ax would come up from a tricky angle, exciting Rostislav's nerves.

Every time Svyatoslav hit the shield, a small amount of sawdust would be stirred up, and with this attack frequency, the sawdust would suddenly increase. deterred.

The opponent threw two powerful stabs in a row, repelling Rostislav's sword, and then swung the tip of the sword upwards. The Prince of Moscow shook his head back, and the blade barely grazed his chin, almost dying.

The Grand Duke of Kyiv counterattacked desperately, exerting all his strength to make Rostislav keep retreating to avoid the continuous attacks.

"Nephew, you are very powerful, but that's it, the victory must belong to me."

Svyatoslav threw the ax over, and Rostislav's shield was completely cracked after taking the blow. The Muscovite prince dropped his shield and held the sword with both hands like the opposite.

"Second Uncle, the battle has not yet come to an end. Who knows what will happen next. You killed my father in such a sneaky way. Now facing me, you will definitely fail."

At this moment, Rostislav didn't need to worry about anything, and just said the things that shouldn't be said.

"Hmph, I should have killed you and your father back then. It was all because of my soft-heartedness back then that made all of this happen. But now I can correct this mistake."

Svyatoslav was quite emotional, but he can end that mistake with him here!All of this should not have developed into what it is now, Rostislav is a superfluous existence, he must die!

Rostislav ran towards his second uncle. This time he was the first to attack, and the second uncle also came forward. The moment the swords collided, the eyes of both sides met. They both saw the hatred and fighting spirit in each other's eyes.

A burst of arrows fell towards them. I don't know which side it was fired from, but they treated everyone equally. Whether it was the southern army or the northern army, under the rain of arrows, there was only one way to die.

As for the two princes, they were protected by fine helmets and armor, and the arrows either bounced off or hung on the armor, and the prince of Moscow decided to seize this opportunity.

Rostislav broke the deadlock, withdrew his long sword suddenly, and then slashed at the opponent's leg. He didn't break the armor there, but just to influence the enemy.

This obviously caught Svyatoslav off guard, and the Grand Duke of Kyiv stepped back to avoid the prince's attack.But the prince of Moscow walked in a circle, and when the Grand Duke of Kyiv dodged towards the opening, he seized the opportunity to meet him, drawing a horizontal arc with his long sword.

The Grand Duke of Kyiv reacted quickly and blocked the blade. He felt a little bad, why did he become that passive person!

Blades touched and rubbed against each other, and the two wrestled with each other again. Rostislav told the other to back off, but they clung to each other, refusing to give in.

Suddenly, Sviatoslav hit his nephew with his head. The impact was so severe that Rostislav's helmet was tilted, and he himself staggered a few steps back. He did not expect that his second uncle would use this trick.

Rostislav defended himself with his sword, but the blood from his head blurred his eyes, making him extremely uncomfortable, but he had to open them.

Under the blurred vision, Rostislav tried to avoid the opponent's attack, and now he evaded the attack entirely by hearing and perception.

The sword struck quickly and slashed at the Prince of Moscow's armor. The overwhelmed lock ring made a cracking sound. Rostislav felt pierced by cold metal, and the severe pain hit again, like a wave.

Blinking vigorously, he finally got rid of the blood in his eyes, and his vision became clear. He saw a victor's smile on his opponent's face, as if he had become the lord of all Rus. The longsword on his back, but the metal lock ring prevented it from turning.

"Beautiful play, Second Uncle! But the next round belongs to me!"

The prince of Moscow showed a ferocious expression, swung the sword in his right hand, and chopped off the second uncle's head with a sword. This sword poured all the strength of Rostislav, and cut off the neck guard without any catenary.

The head landed on the grass and bounced up, with the joy of victory on his face, and finally fell into the blood-stained bushes. Svyatoslav fell at the moment of victory in his eyes.

Thick blood spurted out from the broken neck, splashing Rostislav all over, turning the Prince of Moscow almost into a blood man, but he didn't complain, only joy.

Rostislav pushed the body away and let it fall to the ground, sighing with relief, while the sharp pain in the sword-wielding shoulder conveyed the pain to the prince along with the other chopped shoulder.

"I! I am the winner!"

Enduring this, Rostislav, who was bathed in blood, stood up, holding up the long sword that beheaded his relatives. Everything he did now was in line with an old saying - bathed in blood, the winner is king.

Then he took off his helmet as if venting, and then fell heavily on the ground, panting heavily, everyone saw the blood on his body.

At this moment, this made Rostislav even more powerful.

The flying head caused another round of melee, and those who were still watching the battle just now started to fight each other.

And Rostislav was protected by his entourage, forming an iron wall of defense in front of Rostislav, protecting their master behind.

Svyatoslav's soldiers wanted to take back his master's head, but in the end it was Rostislav's personal captain Vasily who snatched the head and dedicated it to the victor standing on the ground. None of the Confederates were fleeing.

"Svyatoslav, did you die like this?"

Rostislav looked at the head, and then at the headless body of his second uncle. He had already become the winner.

"Put his head on a spear, nothing is more convincing than that, I, Rostislav Vladimirovich, am the victor! Lord of all Rus!"

In response to Rostislav's words, the surrounding Northern Army cheered and shouted to their prince.

Amidst such cheers, I saw that the followers found a super long gun from nowhere, and Vasily hung the head of Sviatoslav Yaroslavich on it.

And with Svyatoslav's head hanging on the spear, this war can be regarded as an end.

As for Rostislav, as the fighting passion brought by the adrenaline dissipated, the prince of Moscow suddenly felt severe pain. He staggered and almost fell before everyone.

Vasily quickly supported the prince. He had noticed the wounds of the prince a long time ago. He had just planned to persuade Rostislav to bandage the wounds, but he did not expect his lord to fall down first.

Taking out his small medical bag—this was made by the Persian doctor in Moscow, which contained all the medicines for emergency treatment of war injuries—Vassily began to bandage Rostislav with medicine, and Rostislav didn’t say anything, just let him go Fiddled with by Vasily.

Vasily only worked for a while because it was only a very rudimentary process.

And Rostislav also stood up with the help, and his followers ordered him to find a horse, and Rostislav endured the pain and climbed up.

Although Sviatoslav has been awarded the leadership, the Southern Army has not completely collapsed. Only when the Southern Army has completely collapsed can Rostislav leave the battlefield with peace of mind and go to the rear to heal his injuries.

As for now, he wants to show his best side to the army, so that all the soldiers of the northern army can see him!Behold his great victories!

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(End of this chapter)