Sherlock looked at his masterpiece with great satisfaction, and he motioned for Barron's guards to let go, and Barron instantly fell to the ground like a boneless corpse.

Sherlock stomped on Barron's face and pressed the red-hot mark in his hand hard against Barron's shoulder as he was completely unconscious.

Yes!

Barron, who had just fallen unconscious, was immediately awakened from his stupor, and a heart-rending wail rang out throughout the street.

The red-hot mark burned a wisp of green smoke on Barron's shoulder, although Sherlock hadn't pulled it off yet, but Barron knew that it was the same as carving a mark on a pig's body, and he would be Sherlock's domestic animal from now on, and this mark on his shoulder was proof of being a slave, even if he left here alive in the future, others would know that this person was once a slave.

Barron's wail didn't last long, as Sherlock stepped on it so hard that Barron's mouth opened wide and pressed against the ground, making him unable to make a sound except for a mouthful of dirty mud.

Large beads of sweat flowed down Barron's forehead, and the arm that was imprinted had been pulled to the dislocation by Sherlock, but despite the pain and heartbreaking, Barron never shed a single tear, he gritted his teeth and twisted his head in Sherlock's direction tremblingly, word by word, speaking clearly.

"I will, try to give the master, make money, please master, forgive me."

"Hahaha!"

Sherlock laughed loudly, looking crazy, and slammed his fist into the face of the guard next to him regardless of the weight of his laughter.

He likes smart slaves, because smart slaves know how to make money for themselves, and they know how to please themselves.

"Someone!"

Sherlock shouted to the maid in the courtyard, and in a few moments, a bewitching woman who looked like she was in charge of the maid made a gesture in front of Sherlock.

The woman wore her long curly blond hair over her shoulders, and she wore no more than a thin veil with no other ornamentation, and her naturally high nose gave people a sense of nobility, but her eyebrows and eyebrows seemed to be deliberately seducing men.

"Katie, I like this knife very much, now you can immediately look at the game schedule of the Dysett Arena, I will let this kid try it now, I want to see what kind of knife it is."

The woman who Sherlock called Katie was Sherlock's concubine, and as for the first few concubines, Sherlock himself doesn't remember, only that he arranged for this woman who was played with by himself to take charge of some of the family's affairs.

Katie took out a parchment scroll from the maid behind her, which was a match schedule issued by the owner of the Colosseum to each slaver registered in the Colosseum, with the specific time, size, method, and prize money for each day of the week, and at each time of the week.

"My dear, in just an hour, there will be a five-on-five small team battle duel, no restrictions on weapons, whether life or death, and the winner will receive a thousand gold coins."

"Okay, very good, let's go, Katie, you go sign up now."

Sherlock laughed all the way to the dungeon in the backyard, and Barron got up from the ground, wiped the dirt off his face briefly, and then clutched his still sore shoulders and followed.

Barron's arm was still dislocated, but he didn't care, he endured the severe pain and broke it back, at this time, he didn't hate the slave owner, he didn't care about his own life and death, he only had the conditions that Sherlock had just put on him.

The hatred that Barron had been holding back in his heart was all released when Bard sold him, and being kicked, smashed by a wine bottle, and beaten on the ground made Barron's young heart suffer a heavy blow, but not only that, in order to survive, when his father was drunk, he had to drag his serious injuries to beg on the street.

Perhaps in Barron's eyes, being sold as a slave was a good thing, and he heard that he would die in the gladiatorial arena, but staying at home with his father did not guarantee that he would live.

After walking around the huge courtyard for a long time, Sherlock finally led Barron to the dungeon, and after opening the iron door, there were rows of stone benches and grain grass spread in the corners, and on the stone benches sat twenty-three muscular, shirtless warriors, all of whom were gladiators trained by Sherlock.

"Master Sherlock!"

These gladiators saw Sherlock coming, and they all complimented Sherlock with expressionless faces, Sherlock would not be angry because these gladiators were not very humble in their attitude, he thought that gladiators should retain their blood.

The twenty-three gladiators here were carefully selected by Sherlock, and there used to be more than fifty gladiators here, and now the gladiators who do not appear here have long since become the undead in the gladiatorial arena.

"Mad Pig, Ta Guokee, Carl, Volcker, you four come with me."

After saying that, Sherlock left the dungeon without looking back, and the others just silently patted the four people on the shoulder, like a send-off and a blessing, these gladiators knew very well what it meant for them to be called out.

Among these four people, Mad Pig, Ta Guoyan, and Volcker are the three strong men who followed Sherlock in the outer circle before. Barron followed Sherlock closely, and the Tower Guy behind him whispered to Carl beside him.

"Do you think the master is going to die from us this time?"

As a gladiator, he has long looked down on life and death, otherwise he would not be able to overcome the fear of death in the gladiatorial arena, but no one wants to die for no reason, not even the maggots in the stinky ditch.

"What do you think?"

The man known as Carl looked at the tower in confusion, only to see the tower man point his finger at Baron, who was only thigh-high as they were: "Do you know what the master called this little ghost just now, Blade!" You see, I still have him with me, and that says something. ”

Carl looked at the imp in front of him, and then at Sherlock's back: "It means that this is a five-on-five game, and it is the four of us who are participating in the battle with a little ghost." ”

Volcker leaned over, his eyes murderous: "I think we can kill this imp before we reach the gladiatorial arena, so that the master can let another person come to the battle, hahahaha." ”

Naturally, they knew that this was impossible, and that slaves could only fight each other with the permission of their slave owners.

Barron walked in front of them, and the voices of the people behind him were not very quiet, Barron could hear them clearly, but Barron didn't care. It's just that Barron didn't see it, and the way Carl looked at him was not the same.

After leaving Sherlock's home, Sherlock traveled to the Colosseum with five of his gladiators.