According to custom, the tribes participated in sacred gladiatorial battles, and the strong men who fought should be between fifteen and thirty men, which was limited by the size of the high platform.

Looking at the other party's Iron Whip tribe, Baburu knew that the number of people the other party was going to play was definitely more than twenty.

And it's a bit unbelievable and even confusing to be alone on your side.

Dumbfounded as he watched Helter apply for a natural walk on the high platform, Bablu couldn't help but shudder, obviously sweating on his forehead, but he still felt like he was standing naked in the desert, as if the scorching temperature around him could no longer withstand the cold in his heart.

You know, Huert is now a member of the Dry Bone Tribe, and the Divine Gladiatorial Fight determines the life and death of the entire tribe!

If this guy loses, will he still be able to gain a foothold on this land, I'm afraid he won't be able to stay in the whole of Africa!

Knowing this, even if he threw all his clansmen to them, he didn't want to wade into this troubled water.

The appearance of one person brought a strong shock to the other tribes, and the appearance of a few against the majority is a symbol of self-confidence and bravery, but one person against more than twenty battle-hardened tribal powerhouses, it is no different from killing oneself.

There was an instant burst of boos on the field.

Everyone's eyes widened, and the excitement on their faces gradually turned to surprise and solemnity.

"Are you sure you're the only one in the war?" Faced with such a strange scene, the leader of the Iron Whip tribe, who was the enemy, had to ask.

"That's right." The corners of Huerter's mouth raised, "Let's get started, by the way, you should have written a suicide note beforehand, right?" ”

Huerter's words sent the audience to a boil.

"Who is this guy? It looks like a European face. ”

"That's too arrogant, isn't it?"

"Even if it is the Chosen One, it is impossible to withstand the attack of more than twenty warriors of the Iron Whip Tribe, right?"

"Wait, how do I feel he's serious......"

"I feel the same as you, I can feel it, the blood on that Caucasian man's hand is definitely not much less than mine."

"Are you sure?"

"I am the strongest warrior of the Iron Cutting Tribe, and I can naturally understand this, and my heart is beating to tell me that this person is terrifying."

"But he's only one man!"

"Wait and see, the answer will be clear."

In less than ten minutes, the giant lion on the field has undergone a huge change, all the tribesmen have focused their attention on the high platform, and the previous indifference has not dissolved, even if the other party is sending them to death, but this courage not to fear death alone is worthy of their praise, for the real strong warriors, all tribes will not be stingy with respect.

Listening to the audience's discussion, Baburu couldn't help but change together, is this Caucasian really 100% sure that under such a huge gap in numbers, he can really win the Holy Gladiatorial Battle?

As his thoughts swirled, the arbiter of the Divine Gladiator announced the beginning of the battle.

"Then I declare that the sacred gladiatorial battle between the Dry Bone Tribe and the Iron Plate Tribe will begin immediately!"

As soon as the order was issued, the warriors of the Iron Whip tribe immediately drew their weapons, and without even making a basic temptation, they directly outflanked them from both sides of the high platform.

No matter how confident Huerter may be, he's just a man.

That's not even enough to control their own half-court territory, and when the twenty-two are closed, Huerter will be in a dilemma of being attacked from the back.

As strong men who hunt for a living, they will never have any concerns in this kind of life-and-death struggle, and the moment they ascend the high platform, they have already dedicated their lives to their people.

This is both a war for the survival conditions of the tribe and a struggle for power.

Huerter's figure turned into a thick fog and disappeared in an instant when more than twenty warriors waved their weapons.

By the time he showed his figure again, he had already appeared behind more than twenty enemy warriors, his figure did not look so powerful, but he showed extraordinary strength, obviously carrying a hammer, but his steps were still smooth, his left hand blocked, his right hand was a hammer, no one could block his blow.

And instead of smashing the enemy with a hammer, Huerter lay on the handle of the hammer and went on a rampage on the stage, and soon six or seven men fell at his feet.

Everyone was shocked that the Iron Whip Warriors, who had the advantage in numbers, had fallen into a situation of being passively beaten.

The Iron Whip Warrior is afraid of his enemy's ability to turn into a thick fog.

"Everyone, move closer to me!"

Probably seeing that this could not go on, one of the warriors shouted, gathering the remaining dozen or so people who could still stand, and by this time the battle had been seen by this time, although Huerter's actions were extremely arrogant, but so far, he had not been able to kill a single person.

If he wanted to kill, no one could resist the hammer, and every warrior was a valuable asset to the clan, and this earned the respect of the other onlookers, including the duelists of the Iron Whip Tribe, who were not afraid of sacrifice and were willing to give their lives for the sacred gladiatorial fight, but it had to be meaningful, not a vain death.

The tribes praise strength and courage, but do not want to see an indifferent death.

The warriors of the Iron Whip Tribe withdrew their weapons to their waists, and everyone huddled in a row and stretched out their hands forward, their meaning already self-evident.

"Huh."

Huerter smiled lightly, dropped the hammer, drew the dagger from his waist, and rushed towards the crowd.

The two forces collided violently, but anyone with a discerning eye could see that although the warriors of the Iron Whip tribe were menacing, the moment they came into contact with Helter, it was like hitting cotton, and they couldn't use their strength.

"Don't retreat!"

"Hold on to it!"

There were chaotic shouts from the stands, but they didn't say which side they were rooting for, as if it didn't matter who won or lost in this gladiatorial fight, and the horde spectators pointed to a battle of bravery!

The Helt Assassin's upper body collapsed into a straight slanted line, his feet bent back and forth, and he actually formed a stalemate with the warriors of the Iron Whip Tribe in midair, he would turn into a thick fog, and then reappear in another place, and with each attack, an enemy warrior would pass out.

The war is more of a one-sided flirtation than a gladiatorial fight.

After more than twenty minutes of stalemate, Helt no longer dissolved into a thick fog, and with a pop, the last warrior of the Iron Whip tribe fell to the ground.

During the entire battle, the warriors of the Ironwhip tribe did not hit Huerter with their weapons at all, and every time he emerged from the thick fog, an enemy warrior would collapse to the ground.

With such an ability, even if he faced more than twenty xenomorphs, Huerter would not have any possibility of defeat, not to mention that these people were just ordinary people with strong strength.

"Victor, Dry Bone Tribe!"

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