In the underground prison of Fort Laramie, an iron gate divides the two worlds.

Inside the iron gate was a deep darkness, and the two-legged beasts stood behind the iron gate, nervous and silently waiting.

Waiting for the iron door to open, waiting for the light to come, waiting for freedom to return to oneself.

They had already heard the tsunami of the mountain outside the iron gate.

Call it!

Call it!

They thought to themselves: When you are free again, how loud you will cheer now, how loud will you howl next!

They will tear this evil old world apart without mercy!

……

"Turtledove, Peter Davis has arrived!"

"Let him wait!" The turtledove stood in front of the huge glass window and said without looking back.

"Okay." The Indians who came to report were relieved as if they had been granted amnesty. God knows what he went through with Peter Davis that made him feel more tired than fighting.

Armand stood up from his seat, "I'm going to take a look, turtledove, shall I?" ”

"Go ahead!" Turtledove replied casually: "Congratulations to him for me, he is now the mayor of Fort Laramie!" ”

Armand nodded and left.

The turtledove was in a bit of an irritable mood.

Taking Fort Laramie was easier than he expected.

But the real troubles have not yet begun.

It turns out that both Leon and Brown are just an insignificant tentacle of the power of capital, and he can easily break these two tentacles, but he is helpless to take that mighty torrent.

He could even give the order for the Blood Wolves and the Watermill to raze the tiny Fort Laramie to the ground.

But the huge backlash that came from this was absolutely impossible for him to resist. This force is even more terrifying than Fremont to the west.

He was pondering whether there was something wrong with the temptation of Gram the fat pig just now.

Don't look at Gramm's caution about his servile knees just now, but Turtledove is definitely not as arrogant as he appears. On the contrary, he was even more terrified than Gramm.

If this matter is not dealt with properly, it will be irreparably destroyed for White Rock City!

Although Gram didn't say it explicitly in the end, a vaguely revealed number, even if the turtledove had already prepared, still gasped in the bottom of his heart.

About two million dollars!

This is the plate that is about to be stirred up by this gladiatorial fight.

What's more, I don't know where the two million dollars will end up, maybe it's New York, maybe it's Washington, maybe the big guy in Texas has a share!

The real bigwigs are stingy people, and taking even a dollar from their plate will provoke their fury.

The bigger the person, the more stingy he is.

Just like in later generations, the dignified president's son instigated a big war for $20,000 in consulting fees, which others only thought was ridiculous, but they took it for granted.

In this day and age, even Vanderbilt didn't have such a big appetite to eat such a big gluttonous meal alone.

Previously, he was ashamed to say to the loach that a big man like him is playing with money.

But now he knew that even a big man like him would eventually have to be played with by money.

If the savage world is a jungle of blades visible to the naked eye, then the civilized world is a bottomless abyss.

Since entering the Sierra Madre two years ago and erecting the eight-color flag, he has been fighting for his life every day, fighting bloody battles again and again, and piling up human lives on steps, allowing him to walk to Fort Laramie step by step.

It was only now that he had finally obtained the qualification to gaze into the abyss.

But it was this first glance that made him tremble, his pores stood up, and he almost had the idea of simply returning to the forests of Sierra Madre.

"Loaches?"

"Hello, sir?"

"My name is Turtledove."

"Hello, Mr. Ikaruga!"

"Tell me about your trading model......"

The more he thought about it, the more he felt in his heart that the power of capital was unfathomable. As a traverser who has experienced the world of flowers, even if he was just playing screws on the assembly line in his previous life, he would not take it for granted that the upcoming gladiatorial fight was just a simple fight.

Every screw laid in the previous life has a reason. It seems that it is his 'freedom', but in fact he is just a marionette.

At this moment, he stood in the palatial box overlooking the living beings, and he involuntarily became a part of that torrent.

That torrent is mighty, and those who go along with it will perish if they go against it, and it is not at all something that the current turtledove can resist.

'It's a pity, Red Cloud! ’

The turtledove thought to himself, 'Now, no one can save you!' ’

……

"Buy...... Buy Him...... Win ......"

The aged O'Gerala, who had been kicked out of the Colosseum at Fort Laramie, was now sitting in the aisle outside the Colosseum, leaning against the cold stone walls, and shaking and grabbing two pesos from his bowl and handing them to the horses outside the arena.

"Alas, poor old thing!" Ma Zai kindly persuaded him: "You should buy a boxing king book!" ”

At that moment the ragged needle-weed priest stumbled over, clutching an empty bowl in his hand, but he miraculously felt a shilling from his pocket.

"Add this, add this!" The needle priest said busily.

Ma Tsai shook his head, "It's the first time I've seen gambling with begging money!" ”

Still, he accepted the shilling and two pesos, and tore Oglara a ticket.

"Good luck, old thing!"

The aged Oglara clutched the ticket tightly in his hand, as if that was his hope, his life.

He leaned against the cold stone wall, only to feel that the figures coming and going in front of him were becoming more and more moldy, more and more moldy.

"Priest Needle, is it getting dark?"

"No, Chief, it's only ten o'clock in the morning!"

"Then why can't I see anything?" Oglala asked.

"Because ......," replied the priest of needle, taking Oglala's hand, side by side with him, in his gentlest voice, "because they have put out the lights—listen, chief, the gladiatorial fight has begun!" ”

O'Gglara pricked up his ears hard, and he heard the sound of a tsunami in the arena.

They are shouting:

"King of Fighters! Win! ”

"Ben! Root! Root! ”

Oglala listened for a while, and then said to the needle priest, "Shall we shout too?" ”

"Great!"

So, two old things huddled together against the wall, shouted in a faint voice that only one could hear each other.

"Indians! Win! ”

"Red Cloud! Red Cloud! Red Cloud! ”

……

The steel noose began to make a 'squeak' sound.

The heavy iron gate began to rise slowly.

In the huge sound of the audience shouting and tsunami, the host shouted hoarsely:

“…… King of the World, Ben! ”

“…… The most powerful boxing champion in the Americas! An invincible warrior with three belts! Root! ”

“…… None of the trains in Baltimore can move under Ben's arms, the greatest gladiator in history has the same power as Hercules, let us use the warmest applause, the loudest shout, to give us the invincible hero, Ben! ”

Hongyun stood behind the iron gate, watching the sunlight shine in from under the slowly rising iron gate and fall on his blood-stained instep, warm.

He couldn't help but laugh hard.

Freedom!

I'm coming!