Emily was utterly confused, trying to piece together an image in her mind, but she couldn't figure out what the woman meant by "tug-of-war".

"You'll see when the time comes," the woman smiled as she waved her hand, carrying an empty bowl back to the recycling point.

Soon it was morning.

The training ground of the knights and soldiers in the Red Tide Territory became lively.

It had now been transformed into a temporary sports field, with a wooden high platform already set up, and atop it flew the flag of Red Tide Territory.

A hand-drawn schedule of events was nailed at the front, with drawings and crooked lettering reading: "Tug-of-war", "Relay Race", "Stone Throwing Contest", "Wood Relay"...

Though not glamorous, it exuded a simple vibe of everyday life.

Emily originally planned to "take a look and leave," given her identity was not suitable for staying in the crowd for long.

But as she walked to the edge of the sports field, her pace slowed.

Laughter and shouts filled the air.

Children ran joyfully, waving homemade little flags in their hands, weaving in and out among the adults.

These warm and lively scenes captivated her.

After thinking it over, she decided not to leave but instead found a wooden step on the edge of the square to sit down.

At first, Emily was somewhat reserved, worried about being recognized, but she realized quickly that no one noticed her.

People's eyes were all on the competition at the center of the field, emotions rising and falling with the wins and losses, like a pot of boiling water bubbling over.

Next to her crouched a little boy, holding half a piece of sugar cake, muttering, "In our residents' area, we have Long-Legged Cole, we can definitely win!"

When he realized Emily was a guest from outside, he animatedly explained the rules to her.

The tug-of-war was with a hemp rope, ten people on each side mix-matched, regardless of gender.

Running with rice sacks required circling the square entirely, the fastest team could earn silver coins.

There was also the "Wood Relay," where teams passed bundles of wood back and forth to see which team was the steadiest.

These competitions weren't complicated, even somewhat clumsy, but precisely because of this, everyone could join in.

Whether farmers or slaves, men, women, young or old, they all gritted their teeth and gave their all to run, pull the rope, and throw stones.

No one cared about status, no one cared about origin.

All just to let family, neighbors, and friends see their efforts, to cheer them on.

The winners would be surrounded and cheered, medals were iron-engraved round badges, prizes included silver coins and bags of food laid out on tables.

And those who lost would collapse on the ground, faces full of frustration, but they would be given a small loaf of bread or a candy, along with a pat on the shoulder with a smile.

Initially, Emily just sat quietly, with a hint of doubt in her eyes.

She watched those farmers, blacksmiths, and fishermen run in the dust, fall, and get up, smiling and helping each other.

Their actions were clumsy, and the scene was far from elegant, even carrying a touch of comical clumsiness.

"What's the point of this?" Emily couldn't help but ask herself silently.

But gradually, she noticed some details.

The moment these people shouted loudly and their faces lit up, the light in their eyes was genuine.

It was never the fake smiles worn at a noble banquet, not the pretentious acts at a noble ball.

This was the sincere joy belonging to ordinary people.

Children ran on the dusty sidelines, clutching candies and medals, laughing gleefully.

Adults were sweating profusely, giving each other high fives, and those who failed still walked off the field with smiles.

Even when the outcome was decided, no one complained or argued, only laughter and endless applause could be heard.

This simple atmosphere almost made Emily forget where she was or why she was there.

It was rare entertainment for the people of this land.

Finally, it was time for the last event—the Tug-of-War Grand Final.

The square suddenly boiled, the uproar sending tingles down one's spine.

People crowded to the field's edge, children climbed onto adults' shoulders to get a better view, and even the candy vendors could not bother with their business, squeezing in with their baskets.

The two teams crouched down, their hands gripping a thick hemp rope firmly.

The participants were faces of honest simplicity, including tanned blacksmiths, burly woodcutters, and skinny youths.

But not one of them was nobility, not one had knight blood.

Yet their eyes were all equally determined.

The referee raised an arm, and the air seemed to freeze.

"Begin!"

With the command, the whole square exploded.

"Pull! Pull!!"

"Don't let go! Hold it!"

"Almost there, just a little more!"

Cheering, applause, and encouragement echoed as one.

People on both sides roared low, their feet firmly planted on the ground, hands pulling hard with veins popping, faces red as if pouring everything into that rope.

Emily held her breath, watching as they desperately tugged in the dirt.

Someone fell and was yanked back up, someone barely holding on still gritted their teeth to persist.

Sweat, dust, shouts, all mixed together, heated like it would catch fire.

Even the guards beside her forgot their duties, waving their fists and shouting to cheer on strangers: "Come on! Pull!"

The hemp rope moved bit by bit, and the tension was so thick it was difficult to breathe.

"One last push! All together! Aaaah!!"

Finally, with a loud shout, the rope was pulled over the marker line.

"They won!!"

Applause thundered like an explosion, and the crowd cheered wildly.

The group fell to the ground, laughing and panting heavily, their faces filthy but with eyes shining.

Nora clapped excitedly, "That was so much fun, I've never seen a competition like this before!"

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