Chapter Sixty-Six: The Chariot Race

On the fourth day of the Olympic Games, horse racing and chariot races, originally mere spectacles for nobles and slave owners to have their guards and slaves compete for their honor, suddenly transformed into fierce contests. After the previous victories had all been claimed by Yan Luo, the horse race shocked the audience: more than two hundred athletes from various city-states joined the fray.

At this time, the horses had neither saddles nor stirrups, and the contestants relied entirely on their own skill. Over two hundred true athletes engaged in a blazing competition! In the end, Odysseus of Croton emerged victorious—seven athletes perished during the race, and thirteen more fell from their mounts and were trampled, left crippled.

Wang Dongwei and Zhu Xiaoyong watched the scene and could not help but click their tongues in secret, marveling at the savagery and bravery of the ancients.

Then came the final event: the chariot race.

Chariots, in this era both East and West, were the most destructive weapons of war! The Greek chariot now incorporated features from Egyptian and Persian designs, with two-wheeled and four-wheeled variations, drawn by pairs or teams of four horses.

The largest were the four-horse, four-wheeled chariots—so big they could carry a full squad: a battle team of seven men! The smallest were two-horse, two-wheeled chariots, manned by a single driver and a warrior armed with bow, spear, and shield. Small chariots had their own advantages: easier to handle, and the two wheels offered greater agility.

Athletes from dozens of city-states participated; nearly everyone fixed their gaze on Yan Luo, their eyes brimming with fighting spirit.

Witnessing this, Wang Dongwei and Zhu Xiaoyong felt a sense of foreboding.

As for Yan Luo… his face was expressionless.

The chariot race was not held in the Olympic stadium, but on a hippodrome eight hundred meters long and three hundred twenty meters wide, requiring a distance of about ten kilometers to be covered. Now, more than forty chariots stood on the track—it was enough for a full-scale battle!

Were it not for the cost of horses and chariots, even more athletes would have participated; after all, nearly every Greek—save those from Athens—wanted to defeat Yan Luo in this event.

“Oh, oh, oh!”

Amid the cheers and applause of the crowd, Wang Dongwei drove the chariot, and with two horses pulling, the four-wheeled vehicle entered the arena.

On the chariot, the rotund Zhu Xiaoyong carried a large shield on his back, holding another in both hands, resembling two turtle shells covering him. Chariot racers were forbidden to wear armor, so the fat man wore only a loincloth, his pale, glistening flesh rippling like waves as the chariot jolted, presenting a comical sight.

Yan Luo, too, wore only a linen cloth around his waist. Upon his head rested masks of joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness. Many athletes gasped upon seeing him wielding a six-meter-long spear.

“A Macedonian pike!”

Someone exclaimed.

Indeed, it was a Macedonian pike. After the Macedonian phalanx was vanquished, five such pikes could be brought out of the otherworld—those were five meters in length. This six-meter spear belonged to the cavalryman Gulam, and was essentially the prototype of the dragon lance, measuring about 6.3 meters!

Such a spear was hard to wield even as a weapon, being too long and its center of gravity pulling forward. Thus, the Greek athletes’ spears were all two to three meters—now Yan Luo held one twice or thrice the length of theirs!

It was almost against the rules!

Standing on a moving chariot was already precarious; if there was a collision or a jolt—this era had no shock absorbers—it was easy to fall. Yet Yan Luo dared to wield a weapon over six meters long! These athletes did not know that Yan Luo’s strength, flexibility, balance, and coordination were flawless.

Besides the 6.3-meter Macedonian pike, Yan Luo also brought his coiling dragon staff, a sixty-two-pound iron cudgel, onto the chariot.

Even a pair of mandarin duck blades!

Fortunately, this was a four-wheeled chariot—had it been a two-wheeled one, it would barely carry Zhu Xiaoyong, a fat man weighing over three hundred pounds. With Wang Dongwei, Yan Luo, and over sixty pounds of weaponry, it would surely fall apart during the race.

Yan Luo stood on the chariot, surveying his surroundings. The other forty-plus chariots, large and small, were painted in various colors, adorned with lions, venomous snakes, bulls, and city-state names. The smallest teams had two men; the largest chariots carried seven!

They were equipped with four shields, six spears, and two iron swords, ready to form a hedgehog-like assault formation if needed.

Every athlete was nearly naked, with only a shield as protection.

Chariot races had originally been for slaves, but this time, Greece’s strongest warriors, banded together by city-state, were competing in chariot races for the first time in history. The spectators were filled with anticipation, especially after hearing the priest announce a change in the rules.

Since all contestants were true warriors, attacks on others—just as in the mixed fight—were permitted!

Of course, arrows were forbidden, and one could not attack vital parts, such as stabbing the heart with a sword or slashing the throat with a scimitar. But striking another’s head with a wooden spear, or chopping a hand with a sword or knife—crippling without killing—was allowed.

In boxing and mixed fights, it was common for contestants to be crippled or killed! Thus, these fierce ancient Greek warriors felt the rule was not excessive; instead, their faces were murderous, their eyes savage as they stared at Yan Luo.

Wang Dongwei gripped the reins, his expression grave. He, too, felt the charged atmosphere. At that moment, the referee suddenly blew the whistle, and the chariot race began with a shrill sound.

“Roar, roar, roar!”

With the crowd’s cries echoing, two chariots—one on each side—immediately flanked Yan Luo’s vehicle. Both were small, two-wheeled chariots, agile and nimble. The athletes atop them gripped their spears and shields, muscles bulging, preparing to launch an attack as soon as they drew near.

And then… there was no then.

“Crack, crack!”

With a crisp sound, Yan Luo gripped the butt of the spear with both hands, his feet planted in a horse stance, waist and legs united, and whipped the 6.3-meter Macedonian pike like a noodle, shaking it.

With tremendous force, the spear first swept to the left, carving a semicircle that struck the head of the left chariot’s driver.

A dull thud—the man suffered severe concussion, his head lolling as he was flung aside. With the recoil, Yan Luo swung the spear to the right.

The athlete atop tried to raise his shield, but the force transmitted through the spear was not something a man standing on a chariot could withstand. He was smashed and thrown to the right; in panic, the driver tugged at the reins, and the two horses wheeled right, their shrill whinnies echoing, sending the chariot flipping sideways from the violent momentum.

“Bang, crash, thud…”

The wooden chariot shattered on the ground, the athletes sprawled, their fate uncertain. Two round wheels rolled across the earth, one of them passing straight over an athlete’s head…

Yan Luo stood tall on the chariot, like a general of old standing with blade and horse, spear poised, majestic and imposing.

The masks of joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness on his head were set to “anger.” He gazed across the field at the assembled chariots and opponents, his eyes icy, his presence fierce and chilling: “This championship is mine! Whoever wishes to stop me, come forth!”