The Grey Falcon dove perched on the eaves of the tower, the crow cleaned its wings in the backlight of the field, and the fresh corpse, though less acidic and chewy, was better than scorched.

The athletic contest is to replace the mouthy woman with a strong man, stuff a few hundred cooing pheasants, and then plug up the ears and wait for all kinds of roars.

Duheng came out of the downstairs room in the arena and took several mouthfuls of phlegm.

The already filled seats meant thousands of pairs of stinky feet stamped on top of his head, and dust sprinkled on his face like breadcrumbs, choking the captain of the guard who stayed up all night.

"Fuck, these guys weren't that rich when they paid taxes."

The audience sent saliva and coin bags in the middle of the wall of guards, and shouted out the names of the bets they were most looking forward to.

Most of the unlucky ghosts on the periphery who kept cursing and looked sad had their savings behind their families' backs, or it was difficult to find a girl for recreation in the future.

There are twenty guys guarding the cash box today, and they are all Duchen's most capable soldiers, the most ruthless, and the strongest.

"How many died?"

The soldier in charge of maintaining order at the door had a twinkle in his eyes and looked at the captain of the guard in fear, as if he had done something wrong.

He said.

"Five or six, it's the first round of the contestants, they don't die much, they fight hard, the injured ones are dragged to the back, and the old man is dealing with them over there."

Duheng ignored it, and walked quickly, and the iron boots stepped on the steps as if they had added a spring, and squeezed towards the entrance of the passage.

The sun irritated his cornea like pins and needles, and staying up late to congest and backlighting for a long time forced him to squint and move around the stall-like seat.

"Sit down, asshole."

Several spectators who stood up and roared were pushed back by him, because if they didn't, someone would probably fall down the fence.

The vertical drop of the height of the windowsill can prevent the warriors from being timid, and it can also prevent the escape of death row prisoners, and at the same time, it will also kill the anxious spectators, and no one will rush down to save them if they break their necks.

The mud walls are filled with sword marks and paw prints, filled with blood, and when they dry up, they become murals that are made by many factors, and in this way the decoration of the arena continues to be enriched.

Oh!

The crowd pressed down on Duheng like a city wall had collapsed, and the roar made his eardrums bulge.

"Damn."

Holding on to the trembling railing, he couldn't help but complain that the passage was completely occupied by fanatics, and he had to look sideways over the field and wait for the heat to pass.

Krach, the son of a warlord, had just finished a grappling and pulled the arrow out of the servant's eye, and the iron arm showed traces of blood flowing, and by the way, he smeared it on the black curly hair, showing bravery.

Many people scattered around the circle to raise their hands in greeting, and the fight ended there, with no one praying that the disabled would continue to live a normal life.

Putting your fate on the arena, you have to bear a heavier price than tightening your belt.

Some towns like to have that kind of club-and-fist athletic tournament, which greatly reduces the gold content and future, and no lord likes the kind of people who are greedy for life and afraid of death to come and swear allegiance.

Of course, there is another situation, such as the next one, the brawl between nobles, most of them will not be dead, and the point is up, lying on the ground and admitting defeat is the limit.

Duchen went up the corner stairs from the side of the stands, leaned down and looked at the back of the arena, and the soldiers threw the breathless flesh on the ground, first to serve the crows and the corpses, and later to feed the beasts.

"I've heard that you had an unpleasant conversation with Anton Weisson's cavalry."

Arnold sat on the throne, dressed in the silk robe, with a complicated front placket that covered his slightly fat belly.

All around are the most elite black-helmet guards, and the steel armor is all high-end goods with carved patterns.

Being able to come here means that it is at least the level of the captain of the guard, and the bastard who dares to be late and does not take the initiative to greet him is only Du Heng.

"In the prisoner's exhibition match, there was one of my people who was forcibly detained. Oh, I almost got a taste of the bravery of the kingdom's cavalry, what a pity. ”

Arnold squinted his eyes and glanced over the stands, where Cathy Langale sat upright, her white oak table with footrests, allowing the princess to show off gracefully with her legs.

The military discipline chief next to him led the cavalry to sanitate, so that those contestants who flattered or showed their strength did not dare to covet too much.

"When can you grow like this, there are some things that you can't get by impulse."

Arnold shook the lingguo, and the sound of chewing sounded behind him without hesitation, and he sighed, unbuttoned the throat breast, and the military uniform was set up in his study, and he was not used to wearing a formal suit.

Duheng has his shadow in him, and every time he comes into contact, he can't control the rough habits brought about by his military career.

The pits were flung into a corner, and the crash and horn sounded at the same time.

The warm-up is over, and the first round of official matches will be interspersed with exhibition matches, so that the audience who is thirsty for blood and passion can boil well.

"That's him, my lord."

Duchen straightened up and looked down the passage.

……

[Team: 14]

[Remaining Enemies: 14]

The shackles rattled loudly, and the prisoners slowly walked out into the sunlight from the opposite passageway.

"What the hell!"

"Is he a madman or what?"

The prisoners were armed with a variety of weapons, ranging from broken knives to short axes, round shields and handcuffs were fastened, long bows were carried over their shoulders, and if they had to go barefoot, they even wanted to stick in a dagger.

But the young man leading on the right didn't bring anything with him, except ......

Smoke?

[Morale is slightly lower, the team is loyal, the audience is mediocre and booing you.] 】

Adam narrowed his eyes and found a few ornate stands as he adjusted to the light, among which the one with the banner and the shiny armor of the guard surfaced with a corresponding note.

【Arnold VIP Stand】

[Audience: Cathy Langal, Anton Weisson's Military Discipline Chief......]

Uh~

He took the last bite and popped the red dot into the spot before it caught up with his nail, smiling his usual smile.

Nicotine and tar stimulate the brain, and a slight suffocation brings about a certain mental impulse.

Arnold raised an eyebrow, Duheng looked embarrassed, and the soldier in charge of distributing the weapon chased after him with his sword, greeted him several times in the shadows, and finally returned with an insult.

Adam followed the feeling and opened his arms to face his foe empty-handed in an arena of thousands of spectators, chains measuring his reach and laying them horizontally in front of his chest.

He put away his expression and gave the other party the choice.

The prisoners who took up arms looked at each other, and Adam knew the process of this entanglement of thoughts, as he had said before going on the field.

"The guy who is opposite me in the first round, if he dares to rush over, he must be prepared to pray for death......"

It is not possible to gain trust after two consecutive days of negotiations, and the fate needs to be grasped by himself - he has the confidence to take them away, not necessarily the other party himself.

The boos gradually continued, and the opponent began to stride, communicating expressions with the people around him.

Believe the lord's promise and fight according to the rules of the arena, or believe the madman and stop resisting?

[Your opponent attacks, and sometimes, the choice of the people on the field is made by the audience. 】

"Get out of the back and take a look, look up, and stare at the howlers."

Adam stepped up and stood in the middle of the field, uneasy, slanderous, and insulting his opponent could no longer bear the pressure, stretched his muscles and decided to rush towards him.

"Ahh

The roar and the hatchet arrived at the same time.

The chains flew through range with ease, shattering the jawbone and throwing the weapon into the assailant's stomach, making it impossible to get up again.

[Remaining Enemies: 13]

When the shake is over, more people make choices, and this is the arena, not the place to deliver on promises.

The audience burst into cheers ignited by the blood and broken bones, leaving the ridicule behind them.

"Look, a group of poor insects who crave violence, can't understand the misery of the temperature of the corpse slowly disappearing, and dare not fight fate, so they can only urge you to draw your sword and fight."

Adam babbled in fragments, oblivious to the attacks that approached him.

"Whew,"

He wrapped the chain around his opponent's neck, exhaled turbidity in the sound of bone cracking, and continued his language education.

"Look up, what's wrong, don't even dare to face this little sound?"

[Remaining Enemies: 12]

Bang, dang.

The corpse fell in front of him, his head crooked, and his weapon slipped.

The prisoner's teammates were stunned, this man who had been feasting for two days in a row turned out to be so good at it, those promises were no longer illusory, and it seemed that it was really possible to come true.

"Does anyone want to change the choice, I don't give this kind of opportunity very much, take advantage of it."

Adam's expression was calm, and his hands were soaked in blood.

[Remaining Enemies: 11]

The opponents were very entangled, but no one accepted the kindness except for the advance and retreat when gritting teeth.

Lukka sighed, he had already gathered his mood and was ready to go to war, he knew too well what his lord wanted to do.

Barefoot picked up the long-handled tail flower, and the steel sword drew an arc with the mud and sand, and fell to the hand, the movement was swift and fast, and the chain made an admiring crisp sound.

Adam held his sword in his right hand and swept it across the neck of his opponent in front of him.

The cold glow reflected in the sunlight, and the birds flocked, their feathers falling at the same time as their voices.

"Good luck, gentlemen, do it."