Chapter 1472: Beginning in the Night of the Curse (30)

"What?!Who do you say is bald?!" The big man immediately frowned: "I'm not bald, it's just that the hairline is relatively high!"

He turned his head, pointed to the back of his head and said, "Look, there's still hair growing here!"

Indeed, there is, a very thin layer. When Bediwell saw it, he couldn't help but want to laugh even more. This is obviously bald, why does this guy not want to admit it. It's no wonder that the gladiator Bereld had always worn that strange helmet before, and it turned out that the purpose of the helmet was not to protect his head, but to cover the fact that he was bald. However, where this guy should have been furious, there was no luxuriation, and where he shouldn't, his hair grew extraordinarily luxuriant. The werewolf looked at the dense chest hair looming between the gladiator's shirts, and couldn't help but want to laugh even more.

"Ahem!" the gladiator Bereld coughed dryly, "Anyway, that's it." If you want to laugh, just laugh, I won't care. ＂

"Hmph, don't laugh at you, it's nothing funny anyway. Bediwell gave Bereld a blank look: "So, what are you doing here?

"Stalking you little furball?ahahaha, don't be stupid!" The gladiator laughed heartily: "Lao Tzu has been staying on this deck since more than two o'clock this afternoon and practicing swordsmanship! Today's game is so boring that I don't think it's enough to watch! In order to keep this lazy bone from slacking off, I can't stop practicing for eight hours a day!"

"Huh. Good diligence. The werewolf youth looked at Bereld with a little disdain. It looks like this guy isn't lying. But practicing eight hours a day? How annoying is that? Bediville himself is one of those people who will take time out of his day to do a lot of physical workouts, but he only spends about an hour or two every morning for morning exercises, and he can't go as overboard as Berelde.

"What? don't you practice?" the gladiator Bereld glanced at Bediwell, "Given your physique, you can't be molded without exercising every day, right? You yourself have built this muscle through practice, and if I said work hard, do you have such a big opinion?"

(*Note: Orcs have denser muscle fibers than humans, so it is generally difficult to develop strong muscles, and it takes more effort than normal people to build a large number of muscles.) ）

"No, no opinion at all. The werewolf replied perfunctorily, he wanted to find a corner to practice his swordsmanship, and he didn't want to continue talking to Berelde.

"Oh, so you're busy, little furball. Bereld sneered: "Look at the iron sword in your hand that has no blade, it is probably also a tool for exercise, right? So, I have a proposal - since you also want to practice swordsmanship, and I happen to be free, why don't we just have a spar here?"

As soon as the gladiator Bereld said this, Bediwell immediately became alert. The werewolf youth clenched his sword in one hand and asked tentatively, "Don't forget, Mr. Berelde, I have a match with you tomorrow." If you want to fight, do you want to leave it for tomorrow? If you have a private match here, even if you win, it is not a fair thing. ＂

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, take it easy, little furball!" the gladiator grinned, as if playing a prank, "I'm talking about a practice match with you, no points, no wins or losers." Anyway, it's a practice for me to practice by myself, and it's the same practice for one more person to practice with me, so why not?"

"You don't think you're doing anything," Bediwell said, still distrusting the other.

"No, not at all. The gladiator held up the blacksmith in his hand and handed it to the werewolf youth: "See for yourself, I'm using a practice sword that doesn't have a blade." If you are knocked by this, you will only have a little bruise on your body at most, and you will not be fatally seriously injured. I'm sure the iron sword you hold in your hand is the same thing, after all, they were all distributed from Great Britain's arsenal. If you still don't think it's appropriate and think I'm going to cheat in a weapon, you can swap weapons with me. You can choose one of these two iron swords that don't have a blade. So you won't have an opinion, right?"

"Hmph—" Bediwell hesitated. It can be said unceremoniously that Bediwell's own swordsmanship is average. He had also heard that the gladiator Bereld was a powerful swordsman who could both attack and defend. If you play Bereld here, you will not only be able to learn some sword skills from your opponent, but you will also be able to get to know the details of Berelde, which will be very helpful for tomorrow's match with the gladiators. Bereld offered to have this kind of one-on-one practice with Bediwell, which was actually beneficial to the werewolf youth. But is it really a free pie in this world that falls for no reason? It's really suspicious

"Haha, you still have to hesitate like this? ＂

"Anyway, can you stop calling me Little Furball all the time," Bediwell complained.

"As long as it's a stuffy guy, I call them little furballs. Bereld grinned again, and took out a long cloth belt from his waist: "If you are scruples, afraid that I will peek at your sword moves, then I will let you take another step." ＂

After speaking, this guy actually blindfolded himself with a strip of cloth: "This is always okay, right? I can't see anything blindfolded, you can attack as much as you want." ＂

"Are you kidding me, bald?" Bediwell couldn't help but be a little angry, or rather, he felt offended: "You're blindfolded, it's no longer practice, it's me bullying you unilaterally." Do you think you can really beat me blindfolded? There must be a limit to looking down on people!"

Unexpectedly, the gladiator laughed arrogantly: "Hahahahahahahaha You might as well come and play, little furball! You might be able to beat me blindfolded, or maybe not. But I can guarantee that things are going to get interesting!"

A green tendon protruded from the werewolf's forehead. He clenched the bladeless iron sword in his hand: "It's you who want to die, don't blame me when you are beaten to a swollen nose and blue face!"

"I don't blame you, I don't blame you, little furball!" Bereld stepped back and made a defiant gesture: "Let's have fun!"

So Bediwell rushed forward and aimed a sword at Berelde's head!

At the same time, somewhere in Cairo.

"Uh-huh" Palamides slowly opened his eyes and got up from the ground. His head felt as uncomfortable as if he had been kicked by a donkey, and it was filled with dizziness and pain.

"Where am I?" the big cat turned to look around. The surroundings were very dark, but the air was filled with a strange smell of roasted marshmallows.

Palamides struggled to gather his thoughts, and then he remembered that he was in the middle of a date with Rosetta, the queen of jewels.

By the way, Palamides finally remembered, and Rosetta asked him to help pick the cocoons of the Desert Demon Silkworms, trying to make clothes from the silk extracted from the cocoons. However, Rosetta deceived Palamides fiercely, and the silk obtained was not used to make clothes - the Jewel Queen used her magic to control the silk and instantly tied Palamides up.

Palamides, who was powerless to struggle at the time, soon fell into the illusion of the jewel queen Rosetta and fell into a coma. The moment he was wrapped in silk and completely unable to move was his last memory before he fainted.

"From now on you are my slave. Palamides remembered what Rosetta had said to him before he fainted.

But it's so strange, why?

What the hell is Rosetta doing, what does he want?

A big man like her, if she really plans to find a man to play with, it's actually just a gesture. Why did she find Palamides, why did she have a special fetish for orcs, especially leopards?

Palamides frowned. He knew very little about the current state of affairs, and there was no point in even speculating. Anyway, let's get out of this hellish place first. However,

Palamides tried to find a way out of this dark chamber that could barely reach his fingers, but after some fumbling to no avail. He could vaguely sense by touch that this should be a bedroom, after all, he had touched a bed, and a bedside table, and a small round stool next to the bedside table. Unfortunately, there are no lights in this room, no buttons to turn on the lights, and no lighting items. This pitch-black secret room doesn't even seem to have doors or windows, it's a completely confined space.

To make matters worse, Palamides discovered that he was actually naked.

That's right, in this darkness, his clothes have long been stripped of his clothes, and there is not even a pair of pants for him in the room. He sighed, and now he began to think that the darkness was also an advantage for him, after all, he would not be ashamed of not wearing clothes.

But what to do next? The room is an absolute secret room, and there is no way out. And Palamides felt in seclusion that the other party would not be done if he threw him naked into this secret room. Is this some kind of prank? Or is it really a kind of **, the process of turning an ordinary person into a slave? He had heard the legend that this is the common method used by human traffickers to trap a normal person who has just been caught naked in a dark room, and wear out the person's will little by little, until finally the person is on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Slaves who have been ****ed like this will be very obedient, and will not dare to run away or resist again-

Could it be that this kind of bad luck really happened to Palamides?