Ride and Cut

Li Cha, a new member of the Bastards Alliance, stood on the street with a dazed expression on his face.

This grassroots team alliance sounds very unreliable, but the conditions given are reliable enough-Rogge promised to pass on information about the Orlando family for him as much as possible in the future.

This is at least a promise worth thousands of gold coins.

If you want to take any action in the Northeast Province, you can't avoid the Noble Court. No matter what the Orlando family wants to do, Sauron will definitely get some news, and Richard, who is weak and weak, will not be blind in intelligence.

After recovering, he shook his head and smiled, Li Cha raised his hand and spent two silver coins to rent a passing carriage with two drivers.

"Starry Arena!"

The carriage turned around and started galloping on the streets of Cologne City. As the mileage increases, the buildings on both sides of the road gradually become sparse, entering the less prosperous suburbs.

The Northeast Province is located on the border of the empire, and there are many ignorant and semi-ignorant non-human races, and the folks are fierce and aggressive. All these provide a fertile soil for the development of the gladiatorial cause, making it a leading national spectator sport.

The Starry Arena is a common one among the dozen or so arenas in the city. The only thing special to Richard is that it belongs to Sauron, and the fifty highland barbarian fighters promised to him are Close here.

Sauron is a new nobleman, so the Starry Arena is of course a new type of arena. The buildings made of logs and bricks are obviously much simpler than the exquisite granite venues of the old large arenas.

"Sir, today is a rest day, please come back another day."

The steward of the arena is short and fat, but his facial features are unremarkable. It's just that there is a very eye-catching big mole on the chin, with more than a dozen long and thick black hairs protruding densely, which are tied into a tuft with a silver hoop in an ingenious way.

Li Cha handed Sauron's letter to the steward, and he carefully checked the seal while stroking the lock of hair.

"Highland barbarians, of course there is no problem." The steward nodded and led the guests into the arena.

There is no gladiatorial fight today, and it is deserted inside, only a few servants are cleaning. The Arena of Stars may only be open to the common people, and there are only crowded cheap seats in the auditorium, and there is no independent box that is generally preferred by nobles.

"To be honest, it's not bad to take them away. They injured many other fighters, and even slaughtered the alligator for meat. It's completely bad." The fat steward spread his hands and shrugged, "I can't do anything about it." No."

Two male servants walked into a deep corridor together, and when they came out, they were followed by dozens of bare-chested savages.

As we all know, the aborigines in the colder regions to the north tend to be taller and stronger, and vice versa, they tend to be shorter and thinner.

As we all know, the highland barbarians live on the snowy plateau in the extreme north, and they are qualified to call all human branches except themselves as southerners or lowlanders.

So they naturally have the tallest stature and bull-like physique. If muscles are also a virtue, all the highland barbarians must be saints.

Li Cha's height is about 1-8, and his swordsmanship practice has brought him a body of lean but not cumbersome muscles, which is very outstanding among the locals. But compared with these strong men with average height and nearly two blades, it's like a pile of pumpkins mixed with potatoes to make up the numbers.

The barbarians stared at the Pompeii in front of them with cold eyes. In the unwavering eyes, there seemed to be the freezing air of the extreme north.

They are the most outstanding warriors, and they are hard to rival in the ice field, so they are proud, arrogant, and contemptuous of everything!

"Big fellows, I bought you from Lord Sauron." Richard unfolded the parchment, briefly publicized Sauron's handwriting, and then continued, "So according to Pompeii's law, now you are all My slave."

The savages acted as if they hadn't heard, they were as silent as dead marble sculptures, completely indifferent to this.

Sauron bought the trump card that they once wanted to revitalize the arena, but in the end there was nothing they could do about this rebellion, and now it was Richard's turn to gnaw on this hard rock.

The fat steward suddenly felt his legs go soft.

In this bloody place, ruthless people are never rare, but it is another matter to be as ruthless as these highland barbarians.

"But I don't think anyone would like to be a slave, so I want to make a bet with you. If I lose, I will give you freedom." Li Cha snapped his fingers a few times, "But if I win, you have to fight for I fight."

A barbarian stepped out from his companion's shoulders and stood opposite Li Cha.

Even by the standards of the highland barbarians, this man was really outrageously burly. He is at least as tall as two swords, he is a head taller than Li Cha, and his shoulders are half wider. According to the most conservative estimate, his weight is more than twice that of Li Cha.

What's even more frightening is that when this barbarian like a mountain of meat walks, his footsteps seem to be very light, as if he has found a balance between strength and agility, which is definitely not comparable to those obese strongmen in the market.

"Sounds good, what's the bet."

He has a terrible scar running through his throat and left chest, which may have hurt his throat, and his voice is very hoarse and low.

"How about wrestling?"

Among the highland barbarians who had always been unsmiling, there was a sudden burst of laughter that was enough to overturn the dome of the arena.

They are true experts who understand that wrestling is a direct contest of strength and size. How could the short Pompeii be brave enough to challenge the best "snow bear hunters"?

That is the title that can only be obtained by fighting the most dangerous snow bear on the ice field with bare hands!

"Wrestling? I like wrestling." The Roshan barbarian grinned, and lightly punched Richard, "Gunther, a highlander."

"Li Cha, from Pompeii."

Seeing that the two had reached an agreement, the steward was as anxious as ants on a hot pan. Involuntarily tugging at the lock of hair on his chin, there were beads of perspiration visible to the naked eye on his forehead.

He was born as a commoner, and he has struggled for half his life to achieve his prominent position today. His assets are even richer than some run-down nobles, but a commoner is still a commoner.

If an aristocrat with an obviously underdeveloped brain deliberately seeks death and is smashed into meat paste by barbarians on this three-acre land, the steward will inevitably bear part of the responsibility, and half his life's hard work may be in vain.

"My lord" gently tugged on Li Cha's sleeve, and he reminded in a low voice, "This barbarian can kill a wild boar alive with just three punches and two kicks! Why bother fighting with them."

Wild boars wear natural armor mixed with stones and turpentine, and are more difficult beasts than tigers. Da Mozi's suggestion is sincere and sincere, but whether it is useful or not depends on who the target is.

"Three punches and two kicks? I can kill you with one punch!"

With a trembling of his hand, the big man forcibly pulled off the silver band on the hair lock, along with a few black hairs. He was desperate, cursing in his heart some hopeless bastard.