In order to become a Heroic Spirit, I had no choice but to cause trouble in history.

“But I am Merlin, the eternally young flower magician, so it’s only natural that I look young.” Merlin’s smile carried a hint of reminiscence. “On the contrary, you, who were so naive back then, now seem much older.”

Anno shrugged nonchalantly: "I'm almost forty, so it's not an exaggeration to say I'm old. As long as this body can still fight for the king, I won't stop, will I?"

"There's not much fighting now. Would you find it difficult to stay at the Camelot Royal Court to handle state affairs?"

"Hmm, it's quite a change of pace." Anno flexed his wrists. "But Minister Agguiwen can be of great help to me."

"By the way, I heard that Agravan's brother contacted you?" Merlin mentioned.

“That young man who often hangs out with Lanmarok,” Anno said, a forced smile creeping onto his face. “He came to me, saying he wanted me to help him train and get stronger.”

"His name is Gao Wen?"

"Ah, Gawain. He also has a younger brother and a younger sister, Gahoris and Gareth. Although they are the princess's children, they are both very cute."

"Isn't Agguiven also that princess's child? Doesn't he seem a bit too gloomy?"

“I didn’t find him gloomy at all,” Anno said nonchalantly. “As an older brother, composure and calmness are essential.”

The two walked and talked, and soon arrived at the city gate of Camelot.

Anno's mount was carrying Lancelot as they strolled around the city gate.

Lancelot lay slumped unconscious on his horse, a puddle of vomit on the ground beside him.

A vein bulged on Anno's forehead: "That brat!"

He stepped forward, lifted Lancelot down, held him in his arms, and bid farewell to Merlin.

"Merlin, settle this horse down for me. I need to deal with this brat first. His drunkenness has disgraced his chivalry, and I need to inform the fairy."

Merlin simply smiled and waved, saying, "Give my regards to the fairy."

Anno nodded, mounted another strong horse, and galloped off toward the sacred lake.

Merlin glanced at the royal court in the city: "Well, I won't help you ask for leave tomorrow. Anyway, I guess the king won't hold a meeting tomorrow... and probably won't even get up."

Lancelot, who was thrown onto the horse by Anno: "Lia..."

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Chapter Sixty Lancelot

“Father, I was wrong.” Lancelot knelt before Anno with a sorrowful expression.

Anuo looked at his godson and sighed, "Where did you go wrong?"

“Excessive drinking has disgraced my chivalry, and I’ve even been spouting nonsense in front of foreign knights.” Lancelot’s face was filled with regret.

Anno shook his head, walked past Lancelot, and sat by the sacred lake, gazing at the tranquil waters.

“Lancelot, my child, you are eighteen years old now, and you have been on the battlefield for two years.”

“I understand what you’re thinking, but… she is the Queen of Britain, the one to whom you and I are sworn to, you must understand.” Anno’s words caused Lancelot endless pain. “Look into your own heart, Lancelot.”

“Father, I understand…” Lancelot said in a low voice.

A stream of water rose in the middle of the sacred lake, and a figure emerged from it.

She looked as youthful, intelligent, and elegant as ever.

The Lady of the Lake did not choose to blame Lancelot, but instead pulled Anor aside.

"Do you remember when you first came here, Annoqing?"

Anno recalled for a moment, his face full of nostalgia: "Yes, I was seventeen years old back then, and I didn't have the same abilities as my son."

“Drunkenness has disgraced his chivalry; he is not mature enough,” said the Lake Nymph.

"what do you mean……"

“It’s not appropriate to punish him directly; it’s better to treat this as a learning experience.”

Anno smiled and nodded: "I understand."

He had just turned his head away when the fairy called out to him.

"Annuoqing, there is one more thing." The fairy in the lake showed a hint of sadness.

"Please speak," Anno said, all ears.

"When I gave you the precious armor, you promised to owe me a favor."

Anno nodded: "Yes, fairy."

"Now you can repay this favor," the fairy sighed.

"Does the fairy need me to do something?" Anno asked, puzzled.

The fairy looked at Lancelot kneeling by the lake, her heartbroken expression evident.

“Lord Anno, never, ever point the blade of the White Chalk at Lancelot. This is my only request, my only request.”

After hearing this, Anno's expression gradually changed from confusion to surprise and contemplation.

Finally, he nodded heavily: "I understand, fairy."

He solemnly declared, "I, Anno, hereby swear by my code of chivalry that I will never, ever, point my sword at my son, Lancelot."

The fairy smiled with relief and slowly sank to the bottom of the lake, leaving behind a ripple.

Anno composed himself, walked over to Lancelot, and patted him on the shoulder.

"Father……"

"Lancelot, don't speak." Anno stroked Lancelot's purple hair, as if Lancelot were still the baby the fairy found by the lake.

Lancelot took a deep breath and forced a smile: "I never even considered it from the beginning."

"That's fine, that's fine..."

“Come on, Lancelot. The fairy doesn’t intend to punish you, but she also doesn’t want to see you. Come back to Camelot with me.” Anno pulled Lancelot up and led him out of the forest.

"Then, go and do what I did back then, all over again!"

"Yes, Father."

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Chapter Sixty-One: Tristan and Arthur's Sword Battle

"Are you Lord Agguwen's brother?" Arthur sat on his throne, looking down at the boy kneeling below.

The boy was only eleven years old, but he was already tall and strong, standing over 1.5 meters tall.

He had a youthful and handsome face and soft, tousled golden hair. Dressed in a proper nobleman's robe, he knelt obediently and respectfully before his king, his uncle.

"Yes, King."

Arthur asked with a smile, "What brings you here, Gawain?"

“Please allow me to pledge my allegiance to you, my king.” Gawain solemnly raised his head, his tone and expression displaying a maturity and fortitude far beyond his years. “I heard from my brother Lanmarok that Your Majesty desires to organize the most powerful and finest order of knights.”

Arthur's smile gradually faded.

She was silent for a moment before slowly saying, "Gao Wen, you're only eleven years old."

Gawain suddenly raised his head and met Arthur's lion-like eyes.

It is majestic, solemn, and bright.

He paused for a moment, the words he wanted to say stuck in his throat.

"Can you tell me your reasons, why you want to pledge allegiance to me?" Arthur leaned forward, a look of keen interest on his face.

Gawain took a deep breath and composed himself: "Because I am your nephew, a knight of Britain."

After saying that, he lowered his head deeply.

Just then, a man with long red hair, dressed as a knight, walked into the council chamber.

Like Gao Wen, he knelt on one knee with his right hand over his chest.

"King Arthur".

Arthur's attention was drawn to him: "You're the one recommended by Master Merlin and Lord Anno... Knight Tristan? The knight who wandered with princesses from other countries?"

Tristan stood up and nodded: "I am Tristan, 19 years old, a wandering knight without a master... formerly a prince of the Kingdom of Mark."

His implication was: even if I was once your enemy, will you still accept my allegiance?

Arthur smiled nonchalantly: "As the king of knights, I am tolerant enough, as long as you swear not to betray me."

Tolerance is an important virtue of chivalry.

“Tristan…and Gawain, come with me.” Arthur rose from his throne and led the two out of the royal court to a certain place.

A place of great historical significance.

In this place, the former King of Britain, Uther Pendragon, clashed with the legendary Knight of the Chalk, Anor, who has since pledged allegiance to Uther and fought for Britain in the north and south.

Arthur's purpose in bringing the two here is self-evident.

Instead of using her own sword—the Golden Sword of Invincibility—she picked up a fine steel longsword from the weapon rack.

“Then—Sir Tristan, let me see your magnanimity,” Arthur said calmly and in a deep voice.

Tristan set his harp aside, drew his new sword, and took a deep breath.

"Excuse me."

No sooner had he finished speaking than he seemed to transform into a blur, unleashing several sword strikes at Arthur.

Overwhelming the enemy with speed is Tristan's consistent style.

However, Arthur's style is similar to Anno's—powerful and heavy, and Arthur can use some wind magic to assist in combat.

In an instant, Tristan's attacks were completely blocked by Arthur.

“A bit naive, Lord Tristan.” Arthur drew his sword and moved closer, the blade flashing.

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Chapter Sixty-Two: Punishment

King Arthur was a year younger than Tristan, but in terms of martial arts skills, he was a level above Tristan.

The first wave of attacks was easily broken, and Tristan's heart was inevitably clouded.