Maybe it's because it's in the south, and it's already autumn, but the valley of the wilderness is still full of life and joy in the middle of summer.

It's a season of joy.

The scorching heat has decreased a lot, and the sometimes rippling cool breeze makes the sun gentle.

It's also a fun day.

As soon as the human captives in handcuffs entered the arena, people's smiles flew wildly in the sun. Cheers, whistles, high-pitched and shrill screams of females, and so on, rose and fell, seething.

It was a gladiatorial arena that was not very large.

The sand-covered field can squeeze up to 200 people.

But on the seats on the fence all around, people of all races were already in a dark circle, and as far as the eye could see, all kinds of heads rose and fell.

In the middle of the venue is a stone sculpture, five meters tall naked "Vidocq".

One hand holds a long knife, the other holds a hammer, the other holds a skull, and the last fist goes straight to the sky, and even the details of the crotch are carved very realistically. Magnificent and detailed, the rough lines and delicate textures make people can't help but admire, and I don't know that it comes from the master carver of that race.

This stone sculpture can be found in every gladiatorial arena in Sin City, differing only in size and form.

Legend has it that this stone sculpture was the ancestor of the Vik people, who sacrificed before every hunt or war.

After the hunting rules of the foreign races changed, they moved the image of their ancestors into the gladiatorial arena, and fed the belief in the rules of barbarism with killing and blood.

Cris, with his hands and feet shackled, stood in a row with his captives, facing the stone sculptures. They are the protagonists of the day, performing a baptism of blood of killing and being killed for a frenzied audience.

Four Vidocq and one human descended from the platform, their eyes critical to the captive as if they were picking out a piece of cargo.

Yes, cargo.

They will select their own gladiators from these captives to use to delight their senses and earn gold.

The killing was about to begin, and so was the gambling, and if the gladiator of his choice won, the gold went into his pocket.

Chris was drafted by five people at the same time.

Although he was young, not tall or big, he did not have a wisp of fat and a lean body that could vaguely see the scars left by the claw prints of the beast, which made him stand out from the crowd.

This is an extremely disciplined, hard-working, and experienced fighter.

When the five pickers saw Chris, they all had this thought in their minds.

Sin City, which has existed for many years, has long been proven by facts: in the life-and-death struggle of the gladiatorial arena, the person who has the last laugh is not necessarily the strongest, nor necessarily the biggest, but must be the most experienced.

A woman, Vidocq, becomes Chris's owner.

She flashed her knife in both hands, and pulled out a few gold coins in her other two hands.

In the brutal rules of the Vic, this is a pattern that represents a duel or a compromise: either take a gold coin and back down, or choose a duel to the death.

The other three males, Vidocq, felt the need to fight for their lives over a captive.

And that human nobleman is not a strong man, so he is not even qualified to take the gold coins.

There were also four people who were picked by the female Vidocq.

They and Chris are led to a corner of the Blue Zone by a Vic man, where there is clear water and fragrant barbecue, as well as various weapons.

When all five pickers had chosen their respective candidates, there were still more than a dozen people left in the venue.

They were not picked, standing under the huge stone sculptures, staring blankly at the ridicule or cruel smiles of the people in the stands.

"Woo... Woo..."

The bleak bones of the beast were blown by the Vik, and the excited voices of the audience were also mobilized, and both sub-humans and humans were shouting frantically, converging into short and powerful slogans.

"Kill!"

"Kill! Kill! ”

..............

A dozen or so unchosen men were surrounded by a small group of heavily armed Vicks.

The killing also began.

The blade that shimmered with cold light tore through the cool autumn wind and slashed at the poor child who was caught off guard, causing hot blood to spill over the cold sand.

In desperation, they tried to resist, and rushed unarmed into the torrent of steel, blooming many bewitching red flowers.

In less than two minutes, the last man lay on the sand with his face held on his throat after being kissed by the blade, and he breathed hard, trying to taste the wonderful air, but it was all in vain.

Slowly, he stopped twitching, and his eyes were dull in the sun.

The sky is still blue, and the autumn breeze is cool.

Click!

The heads of the slaughtered people were chopped off by the Viks and their hair was placed under the stone carvings, accompanied by the sharp sound of the hollow bones and the blood worship of the Viks.

This is the appetizer at the beginning of every gladiatorial fight, a necessary process, implying the devotion of the faith of the ancestors of the Vik people's blood sacrifice.

Instead of looking at the killings in the arena, Chris was picking out his weapons.

He ate three pieces of barbecue and drank two bowls of water, and he was about seven minutes full.

Although the barbecue is delicious, the impending life and death do not allow the appetite to run wild.

There are many kinds of weapons, knives, swords, daggers, forks, small round shields, short-handled axes, long-handled maces, etc., and they are thrown in a heap. It's all made of the dwarves, and it's very strong.

Bloodstained and potholed, it is clear that there have been many owners before, and there will be more in the future.

Chris picked out a long knife, similar to the one he had used before, with several gaps in the not-so-sharp blade. There was also a dagger, tied to his calf with a strip of cloth, the only place on his body that he could place and pull out easily.

His four temporary companions were chosen with a single sword, a sword and shield, a hammer, and a pair of short swords.

The desolate bones finally stopped moaning, and the slaughtered Vic squad had just exited the arena when the huge fur drum was beaten.

The appetizers for gladiatorial fights have been eaten, and it's time for the main meal.

Among Chris's temporary companions, the one who picked the hammer was the first to be dispatched.

He was tall, with a broad chest covered with hair, like a bear, and he had been hungry for more than twenty days and still had high muscles.

His opponent was also a large man, but with two short axes in his hands.

The two bear-like creatures were loved by the audience as soon as they appeared, and the loud cheers shook the sand and gravel on the field dancing.

The reason for their happiness is that the bigger the guy, the bloodier the battle mode.

Under the witness of the heavens, the expectations of the audience were met.

The two-handed hammer guy had one hand chopped off, then disemboweled, and then the head cut off with an axe.

He ate too much, and the unchewed roast ran all over the floor.

Alas, I guess I've been a full ghost.

The audience was satisfied, and many of the males were desperately slamming their chests and spilling liquor all over their beards and chests; The females let out a cheerful, high-pitched cry and tore open the placket of their robes, exposing the two drooping ellipsoids to the sun, greedily breathing in the cool autumn breeze.

The Vicks who love to kill and blood are even more excited.

Several of them directly pressed the female next to them, or were straddled by the female, shouting and screaming without shying away from the eyes of others to perform the mysteries of how the male and female bodies explored.

The victors also seem to be happy with the killing.

He roared into the audience with two axes held high, showing his prowess and glory, and perhaps glad that he had survived today.

Soon he was taken down, and the audience needed more blood to delight the senses.

After about an hour, Chris was left with a sword and shield bearer.

He had been slashed in the calf, and his left hand, which held the shield, was dripping with blood, but it was all worth it.

He's alive.

And the head of his opponent has been placed under the stone carving.

At this moment, he was lying on the ground limp on all fours, gasping for breath, and the strong smell of wine was spewing from his mouth.

The winner's reward is a small pot of spirits and tomorrow's sunshine or raindrops.

Chris hasn't played yet, and it seems that the new owner Vicdock has a big eye on him, so she has him in the finale.

There were other people fighting in the middle of the field, and the sound of steel clashing constantly knocked on people's nerves, and the sound was like a knife cutting through people's eyes, and it was red.

Chris's eyes closed early.

Neither the madness in the audience nor the bloodlust in the sand reached his ears.

He was thinking of the northern country at this time, which should be the cold of the autumn wind, not the warmth and blood that burrowed into his nose; He was missing the scolding of his grandfather Henry Sr. and the soft ramblings of his father Kafka, not of savage.

The sun shone on his straight torso, caressing his young but already bearded face, accompanied by the cool autumn breeze cutting through the hair gap, making his heart full of peace.

Life is like a wine that is constantly fermenting.

The good times mellow the taste, and the cruel years make the taste spicy.

Some wines are only mellow, which makes people get drunk before they know it; Some wines are only spicy, which makes people wrinkle their eyebrows and choke on tears and snot before they know it; Some wines knead the two flavors together, spicy in the mouth, mellow in the throat, warm in the stomach, and make people want to stop. Chris wants to make his life into the last kind of wine for fate to drink with God.

Grandma, no matter what I face, I will not lack courage.

He muttered silently in his heart.

I am the hope of Eaton, and I have no reason to give up.