Chapter 4

Surrounded by the various shouts of the slaves, most of which were "Murder, murder," a couple who were closer directly fell to the ground, vomiting. Li Gang's twisted face was already deeply imprinted in their minds, and they would probably never forget it for the rest of their lives.

A gladiator slave, dead is dead; no one would pity them, and no one would stand up for a worthless and tyrannical slave. What a joke, don't even look at who the other person is? Some even showed a hint of a sneer, shouting in their hearts, "Good that he's dead."

Suli, who had been watching closely, covered her eyes in fright. She had never seen such a bloody and cruel scene. How could one person rip open another's belly and break their head? Is this still a human being?

Although she was very repulsed by Zhang Huen's cruelty, her professional ethics did not allow her to make an unfair judgment based on her personal likes and dislikes.

Suli immediately noted three copper stars in Zhang Huen's evaluation and added, "This person is extremely cruel and fond of killing, recommended for recruitment as a long-term supporting character."

(Since the birth of realistic films, the actor rating system has also emerged. The standardized rating system worldwide is: no rating → copper star → silver star → gold star → copper medal → silver medal → gold medal → diamond → crown. Each level has five sub-levels, distinguished by the number of stars. Regularly registered film and television companies can rate up to the copper medal level, while levels above the copper medal are entirely up to the actors themselves to strive for. The more attention they receive, the higher their level, completely free from the control of so-called film associations, television associations, and industry guilds. In other words, no matter what kind of ban you face in your own country, as long as you have fans supporting you, you will still be a crown or a diamond.)

"Vermin! Your good days are over!"

The sound of a whip striking the ground echoed at the door, and two fully armed soldiers walked in. A tall, muscular black man with a whip and tight leather clothing entered. When he saw the pitifully dead 119 lying on the sand, a look of surprise flashed in his eyes, but he soon laughed loudly:

"It seems you all didn't like him much, but I like your cruelty. Go out and please your audience and your master. I hope you can be as fierce as you are now!"

The slaves hung their heads and bowed as they walked out of the wooden door. When Zhang Huen passed by the black man, he saw the black man's information:

"Laike Wandis —— Character (Jinnaits' Medica Arena Trainer)

Status: Healthy (Buff: Intimidate Slaves)

Difficulty to Kill: High

Reward for Killing: Slight increase in strength"

"Smack!"

Zhang Huen's gaze earned him a whip. The whip struck his body, splashing a bit of blood. Laike Wandis' white, neat teeth stood out sharply against his black skin, and his laughter was grating:

"Interesting fellow, if you can survive in the arena, I can train you into a qualified gladiator."

Zhang Huen gritted his teeth and glared at Laike Wandis, earning him another whip. He endured the pain and walked into the Medica Arena, where the mountainous shouts grew louder. The audience on the wooden stands looked fierce, only death and blood could give them more excitement, make the ticket worth it, and soothe their anxious wait.

He and the other slaves were driven to the center of the arena by two soldiers. The circular arena was slightly smaller than a football field, rough and without any architectural style. Except for the marble columns supporting the stands, the rest were brick and wood structures, with the dome patched with cloth and animal skins to block some of the sunlight.

Slaves were also driven out from the other four wooden doors, and the soldiers with long spears herded 999 people to the center of the arena. The 999 people were packed together like sardines in a can, men and women ignoring the physical contact, only their faces showing fear as they stared at the soldiers' weapons. The 999 people occupied less than one-tenth of the arena, surrounded by a circle of fully armed black-armored soldiers.

The midday sun shone on the slaves, the hot sand scorching their feet, causing many to scream and jump. Their monkey-like movements earned them laughter and insults from the audience. Once in the arena, the good side of human nature was completely hidden, and the evil side was magnified like the scenery during a solar eclipse.

Zhang Huen stood still, scanning the surroundings, determined to survive, pass the test, and earn money.

"Kill, kill, kill!"

The audience stood up, waving and shouting. On a separate stand, a few elegantly dressed men and women were commenting on the slaves, a small, thin white man holding a piece of parchment and recording their bets with a quill pen.

When the audience had shouted enough, a white-haired old white man in the middle of the group stood up, gesturing to the audience on both sides. The shouting gradually subsided, and the audience sat down, many looking hopefully at the old white man. The organizer of this gladiatorial event was brief and generous, winning the hearts of the people.

The old white man coughed twice and said in a hoarse but powerful voice:

"Excellent citizens of Jinnaits, to celebrate the Fire Casting Festival, the generous Romola and Andpias have brought us a splendid gladiatorial performance."

Two middle-aged men in fine clothing stood up to acknowledge the audience, receiving a sparse round of applause. Gladiatorial slave traders were greedy leeches, not worthy of the attention of the noble citizens. The two men sat back down, somewhat dissatisfied, and the old white man continued:

"As the appetizer for this Fire Casting Festival and to celebrate General Daniels' victory in Lakras, these one thousand slaves from Lakras will be offered as sacrifices to the great fire god. Now, let us welcome the brave and fearless gladiators."

As the audience chanted "Long live" three times, four men in golden masks on a separate platform on the east side of the stands began a poetic recitation.

"Evil Lakras people, savages who drink blood and do not revere the gods, their blood has flowed across the sea, polluting the ears of the gods. Brave gladiators, they come from the land of the war god. Use the sword and shield given by the gods to cleanse the greatest sore on the earth."

(Not bad, it really sounds like an opera, with a powerful, undulating, and harmonious voice, making one feel very comfortable.)

Zhang Huen dispassionately appreciated the recitation of the four golden-masked men. Four teams of fully armed gladiators entered the arena from five directions.

Zhang Huen, squeezed in the middle of the crowd, looked at the five teams of gladiators, each consisting of about forty to fifty people. They wore various strange helmets, full-body armor, and wielded a variety of weapons such as swords, spears, shields, nets, rakes, hammers, and axes, forming orderly rows at the edge of the arena.

After they formed five formations, the soldiers surrounding the slaves slowly retreated to the edge of the arena. A grand and majestic horn sounded, silencing the noisy audience. The recitation of the four golden-masked men entered a new stage:

"Praise the selfless gifts of the gods, let the blood of the heretics water the land beneath our feet. All should remember the generosity of the city lord, only the feast of slaughter can heal the wounds of the far-reaching warriors. Praise Baitao, praise Mariangland, praise the gods!"

After speaking, the four golden-masked men bowed to the old white man, who nodded and raised his right hand, making a single-handed downward gesture, and shouted with all his might:

"Begin!"