"Take your sword and shield, wear your armor, remember that you are already gladiators, no longer soft eggs who can only swing hoes and sheep whips."

Zhang Hu'en quickly put his leather armor on, pinched a medium-long sword and a rivet wooden shield and walked towards the iron fence. The noise outside had already penetrated into his mind, and a heat began to jump from his beating heart to his limbs and bones.

"I said, now we can..."

Sun Zhaojin stood with his hand, his eyes kept glancing at the blood soldiers on both sides of the corridor. He calculated that there were only eight people. If he did it now, he might be able to kill a dawn. Zhang Hu'en looked back at his eagerness to speak but stopped, warning:

"Who do you think you are, Spartacus, don't waste our lives here."

"Quiet! Line up!"

The blood army began to maintain order, and the messy gladiator team would only disappoint the audience, so they kicked some disobedient guys into the middle of the team and barely became a rectangular formation.

"You should fight out with me."

Sun Zhaojin still refused to give up and continued to whisper in Zhang Hu'en's ear. The iron fence opened and Zhang Hu'en took the lead and ran out. He was afraid of Sun Zhaojin, a guy who was full of thinking about how to launch a slave uprising.

The slaves No. 1200 were fully armed and ran out of the passage. There was a low city wall standing on the large arena at the entrance. The city wall was surrounded on all sides, only one person high. In the center of the arena, it was only a basketball court in size.

The silent Laclas slave ran out and the audience booed. Zhang Hu'en ran in the front and saw that the atmosphere was very bad. So he raised the sharp blade in his hand towards the sun, and the audience on the stage booed gradually as he moved. Even the people who were still making noise were dissuaded by others. They wanted to hear what the Laclas man wanted to say.

Zhang Hu'en would never disappoint the audience, and he shouted with all his strength:

"For Laclas!"

Zhang Hu'en's voice spread throughout the arena like a devil's howling. Yantu, who was sitting in the stands, stood up from his seat in surprise. As the collaborator of the organizer, he was qualified to sit on the lower head of the Earl's first-floor platform------VIP platform. Earl Ruth and his youngest son Wenders also stood up and looked at the slave who was shouting while running, and his interest increased greatly.

"Kill and kill!"

Zhang Hu'en's shout aroused the enthusiasm of the audience, and they shouted to kill in an orderly manner. From the stands, they gradually spread towards the entire stands. The people of Xihai did not have much disgust for the Laclas people. At least they were much more harmonious and cute than the plundering Emperor Bell, the Laclas people who were always passively beaten.

Earl Ruth is a bald middle-aged man. He waved his hand to the golden face man standing in another stand, and the six golden face man neatly began to sing poems:

"The newborn sun shines on the calm Red Maple Port, and the guards of the Dragon Army returned to their home tiredly. The fatigue of the day can only be dispelled with the strongest wine and the most charming woman..."

With their voices, another iron fence slowly opened, and 30 female slaves in traditional Laclas costumes were driven in. They walked blindly towards the slave gladiators, and a clown-like Xihai man jumped out of the central wall. He kept making funny moves and shouting:

"Come here, come here. The soldiers of the Dragon Army, there are fine wine and fragrant food here!"

The clown kept throwing a few pieces of white bread into the air to make a throw-and-fill game. Then, a few sausages were replaced and continued to throw-and-fill. The slaves who had only drunk a bowl of porridge rushed towards the city wall with red eyes. Some even threw away the weapons in their hands and feet and began to climb the city wall with their hands and feet. Zhang Hu'en ran for a while and then filled his steps. Sun Zhaojin walked beside him and said:

"What do you think, Mencius."

"This is a trap, Spartacus, let your people pick up the weapons, don't rush to die!"

"Hey, pick up the weapon and don't just spend your stomach. This is the demon's trial ground. They won't be so kind to provide you with free food!"

Sun Zhaojin's shouting attracted the attention of some people. They stuffed the food in their hands into the leather armor, then turned back outside the city wall, and began to pick up their weapons. This behavior of taking care of the head and not taking care of their butts immediately caused laughter in the stands. As the golden-faced man continued to praise the great achievements of the Laclas Dragon Army, Zhang Huen and Sun Zhaojin finally climbed into the city wall at the end.

In the small city wall, except for the food and wine that were divided by everyone, there was only yellow sand on the ground. 200 slaves and 30 female slaves squeezed into the city wall with a nervous expression on their faces.

Seeing that everyone was coming in, the clown stood on the city wall and greeted everyone:

"Good luck to you, warriors of the Dragon Army, it's time for me to sew the worn trousers!"

As soon as he turned over, the clown jumped off the wall quickly, blurring a long red satin from his pants, running towards the iron fence while singing:

"They have already had enough wine and meals. They have enjoyed the wonderful **. Ah, warriors of the Dragon Army, have your sharp swords been sharpened, are your shields still strong? Your nightmare is coming!"

The clown fell on the sand, but he immediately got up again, yelling in a slick manner as he pulled red silk and yelled with the poems of the golden man:

"They are here, they are here, the beauties of money cannot feed them, the sharp blade spear cannot kill them, they are demons hidden in the archipelago, riding on the bones of the war-devourers to harvest their souls..."

Seeing the clown running around the field with red belts, Yantu couldn't sit still. He stood up and stared at the two iron fences that had not been opened. God knew that some beasts would gush out from it.

"Sir, didn't you agree to be a good fight? How did it become a historical legend?"

Yan Tu looked at Earl Ruth sitting high on the first floor platform. The Earl ignored him at all. Instead, his youngest son, a handsome guy, poked his head out and smiled at him:

"Mr. Yantu, you will definitely like this arrangement very much. I am not interested in the fight, so I begged my father to arrange the legend of the Black Harbor battle. I also personally participated in the prop design of some actors, which would be very interesting."

Yan Tu sat back on his seat, his hands almost tore the silk gown hanging on his legs. As the golden-faced man's long poem came to an end, two iron fences finally opened, and a group of black-armored gladiators wearing various animal helmets walked out of the corridor neatly.

"Prepare for the fight!"

Sun Zhaojin stood on the wall and shouted. The sparse slaves took their weapons and walked up to the city wall. The 30 female slaves were all curled up in the corner of the wall, holding their legs and trembling.

When all 200 black-armored gladiators walked out to surround the low wall, two bulky crossbows slowly appeared on the sand through the corridor under the drag of horses. The 20 cavalrymen who jumped out from behind were holding longbows, and they were the elite archers in the blood army.

"This...how can I fight?"

"Hell, what does this mean?"

The slaves' hands trembled with their weapons. That was a crossbow. When a crossbow came, they would not insert people into mutton skewers. Sun Zhaojin looked at the arrival of the crossbow and said in a loss of his mind:

"This is not a gladiator, this is a massacre!"

"It's not just a massacre, look at the back..."

Following Zhang Hu'en's hand, two iron basins burning with flames were lifted out and placed next to the crossbow cart. More than a dozen strongmen around the crossbow cart began to load crossbow arrows. A strong man holding a torch lit an arrow wrapped in tarpaulin on the crossbow arrow, and after a command, he would open fire at the slaves of Laclas.

"Run quickly! You can't stay here, staying here is a living target!"

The slaves on the city wall jumped down and hid in the city wall for protection. Sun Zhaojin looked at Zhang Hu'en, who held the sword and shield in his hand tightly and said:

"Only by going down to fight with them can you avoid being suppressed by crossbow arrows."

"Come up, come up, we rushed out, and hiding inside is a dead end..."

Except for a few confidants who developed Sun Zhaojin, no one followed his advice. The slaves shrank in the city wall, huddled in the corner like quails waiting to be slaughtered. Sun Zhaojin shook his head and suddenly heard a huge horn sound. 20 archers began to gallop on the periphery. The longbows in their hands were already full, and the whizzing sound immediately reached his ears.

"Raising the shield!"

Zhang Hu'en jumped off the city wall and looked back at Sun Zhaojin and his men who were huddling together and holding wooden shields, carrying shields toward the gladiators in the encirclement.

"Sir Earl, this is not a fight, it is a massacre!"

Yantu in the stands could no longer sit still. He left his seat and walked towards the first floor platform, but was stopped by the blood army guards and roared at the Earl of Ruth through the two guards:

"It is against the spirit of the contract to do so, and I will sue the Duke!"

It was still the count's favorite youngest son. The protagonist of this gladiator, Wenders, looked at Yantu with a smile and said lightly:

"Mr. Yantu, if such a change causes you any losses, I will compensate you according to the market price."

"Compare me... Master Wenders, do you know how much my slave is worth? Will Lord Earl agree to give me 10,000 Jinsu?"

Rus, who had not said anything, moved his ears and turned his face to stare at Yantu. His blue eyes were like poisonous snakes, causing Yantu's whole body to become stiff and a chill ran straight from his back and his forehead.

"Yantu, pay attention to your identity. Today is Wenders' coming-of-age ceremony. I don't want my sword blade to get stained with the blood of the merchant."

"Sir, please stop this massacre game..."

"Machubi, let him sit back in his seat and calm down."

"Yes, sir."

The personal guard Machubi took Yantu back to his seat and stood on his sword, which was as if he was ready to cut off Yantu's head at any time. Yantu kept wiping the cold sweat on his forehead and staring at the massacre on the field with his eyes fixed on the massacre.

(Mentus, you have to survive, or I will be dead even if I lose all my wealth this time.) (To be continued...)
Chapter completed!