Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 5 I, the King of the Grass Sea
In the center of the venue, everyone formed a circle, cheering and roaring, waiting for the killing feast that was about to take place!
Drogo was surrounded by warriors, his body brimming with muscles and scars, exuding a terrifying sense of oppression.

His thick black braid reached down to his knees, greased to a shiny shine, with countless silver bells hanging from it, symbolizing his glorious military exploits.

Drogo roared, "I'll show you what happens when you anger Khal Drogo!"

Although Rahalo was 1.9 meters tall, he still looked thin and frail compared to Drogo, and he did not like to go shirtless like the Dothraki.

After all, his soul came from Earth's third millennium, an age when everything from the neck down was mosaic.

He wants face.

Daenerys also stood among the crowd, her fingers tangled, her heart pounding like a deer, and her eyes unable to move away from Rahalo for a long time.

She didn't understand why she was nervous around a man she had never met, instead of Drogo, her soon-to-be husband.

From the first moment I saw him, I felt a sense of sympathy for him.

"Sister, that boy will surely die," Viserys gloated. "Drogo is the undisputed King of the Grasslands! This lowly sheepman is courting his own doom!"

Daenerys said nothing, but she felt an indescribable disgust at Viserys' words.

The duel begins!

Drogo roared and charged at Rahalo like a raging bull, the ground shaking slightly with every step he took.

"Kao! Kao!"

The crowd of onlookers shouted loudly and pounded their chests with their fists, as if they saw Laharo die tragically under the knife.

Drogo swung his sword, the blade making a sharp scream, but Rahalo tilted his body slightly and easily avoided the sword.

Instead of retreating, he advanced, his scimitar drawing an arc and slashing towards Drogo's waist.

Drogo quickly twisted and dodged, stumbling back a few steps.

After losing the first battle, Drogo was furious!

He swung the scimitar in his hand, leaving a trail of shadows, and cursed with gnashing teeth: "You lowly sheep man, I will tear you into pieces!"

Drogo is tall, but his movements are not slow at all. He is as agile as a cheetah. He is not only powerful but also extremely fast.

Facing a storm of attacks, Laharo remained calm, always able to dodge at the critical moment, find the opponent's flaws, and wait for an opportunity to counterattack.

Suddenly, Rahalo squatted slightly, rushed forward, and swept his scimitar across Drogo's waist. If this blow was successful, Drogo would even be cut in two!
Drogo also saw how powerful he was and quickly swung his sword to block. The two swords collided and the metallic buzzing sound pierced his eardrums.

Drogo was indeed a first-rate warrior, and his sword was no ordinary item. Rahalo couldn't help but feel his arm go numb from the shock.

On the other hand, Drogo retreated three or five steps, his knuckles cracked, and he could barely hold the scimitar!

The crowd exclaimed and the atmosphere froze instantly.

No one would have thought that Drogo would be at a disadvantage!

A hint of surprise flashed across Drogo's eyes, then turned to unwillingness, and finally to rage!
He took a breath, roared, and leaped into the air, slashing down with the knife in both hands, as if to split Rahalo in half!

This move was powerful but slow, and Rahalo dodged it by leaning sideways. Although he had three times the strength, his original fighting experience was limited after all. He was about to raise his knife to counterattack, but he didn't expect Drogo to deliberately expose his flaw, and then spun around and kicked Rahalo in the chest.

Laharo stumbled back three or four steps, with a large black shoe print on his chest, and his body seemed to be falling apart.

The crowd roared again, applauding Drogo's counterattack. Daenerys held her breath, and she found herself praying for Rhallor to live, for him to defeat Drogo, a feeling that baffled even her.

Rahalo steadied himself, took a deep breath, and watched Drogo pursue him victoriously. Suddenly, he slid close to the ground, barely passing under Drogo's blade. He quickly stood up and slashed Drogo's back with his blade like lightning.

Drogo groaned, and a cluster of blood bloomed on his back, flowing down his long braid, dripping and staining the ground with glaring scarlet spots.

Drogo was completely enraged, his eyes bloodshot, and he roared and rushed towards Rahalo again.

But after Laharo succeeded in his attack, he was no longer in a desperate situation. With his agility, he was able to move flexibly and easily among the attacks.

"All you can do is hide, you coward!"

As Drogo slashed, Rahalo seized the split second and brought his scimitar to meet the gaping hole in Drogo's blade.

"Keng!"

The crisp sound of metal breaking resounded throughout the venue. Drogo's Arak's scimitar was cut in half. The upper half of the blade spun in the air, drawing an arc, and stuck in the soil, still trembling.

Drogo looked at the half-broken hilt in his hand with a look of shock on his face.

Rhaharo's lips curled up in a hint of defiance, and he pointed his blade at Drogo's face.

Drogo dropped the broken blade in his hand and rushed towards Rahalo with his bare hands. Without the scimitar, his strong hands could still tear him into pieces!
However, Drogo was fast, but Rahalo was even faster. He quickly squatted down, avoided Drogo's powerful grab, and flicked his wrist. A cold light flashed, and the scimitar quickly slashed across Drogo's leg.

Drogo roared unwillingly, blood gushed out from his knees, and his knees could not support the weight of his upper body, and he fell to the ground with a bang!
Under the horrified gaze of everyone, Rahalo slowly walked behind Drogo, grabbed the greasy long braid, and pulled it back hard.

Then he raised the scimitar Askara and stabbed it deeply into Drogo's collarbone from top to bottom. The blade was as powerful as a bamboo and finally pierced through the heart!
Drogo's huge body suddenly froze, his face full of unwillingness, and the light of life quickly disappeared from his eyes.

Without any hesitation, Rahalo walked around to Drogo and tore open his throat with his fingers. Blood gushed out like a fountain!

He exerted force with one hand, crushing Drogo's cervical vertebrae with a "crack", and pulled Askara out from his shoulder, holding the hideous head on the tip of the knife.

There was dead silence.

Everyone stared in amazement at the head hanging on the tip of the knife. Their Kao's pupils had already turned gray, and the bells on his braids made a creepy and crisp sound, like the god of death taking his life.

Illyrio Mopatis's fat face was filled with disbelief and shock. His thick lips opened and closed slightly. He completely forgot what he was supposed to say and only muttered:
"Khal Drogo is dead? That's impossible..."

Viserys's face turned pale in an instant, he staggered back a step, his eyes filled with fear and resentment.

He cursed under his breath, but didn't dare make any loud noise, for fear that Laharo would cast that cold gaze on him.

"Barbarians...damned barbarians..."

This man holding a scimitar not only killed Drogo, but also completely shattered the hope of the Targaryen family's revival!

Ser Jorah Mormont frowned and looked at Rhaharo with complicated eyes.

Daenerys slowly loosened her fingers that were tightly gripping her robe, but her eyes could no longer be taken away from Rhaelor.

At this time, Laharo raised his scimitar high, not caring about the blood dripping on his head, dyeing his face bloody red, and then let out a roar that resounded through the sky.

"Anha, Khal Rhojosaroon!"

(I, the King of the Sea of ​​Grass!)

(End of this chapter)