As You’er and his companions reached the entrance of the Death Arena, a colossal iron gate loomed before them.
With a groaning heave, the iron gate swung open, unleashing a torrent of guards who surged forth, swallowing the newcomers whole, much like a whale engulfing its prey.
From the outside, the arena had projected an image of grandeur and magnificence; yet, upon stepping inside, they discovered a desolate landscape choked with grime and a pervasive, acrid stench.
The main hall, where they were ultimately herded, was particularly squalid, resembling nothing so much as an abandoned coal mine.
Its only distinctions were a slightly wider expanse and a faint glimmer of light; beyond that, it offered no unique features.
At this point, the newly arrived group was divided into four contingents, each led to a different sector.
You’er and his team found themselves directed to the East District, a fate shared by Keane’s contingent.
“Yo-ho, fresh meat! Come on, let this old man see if we’ve got any high-quality goods this time.”
“Boss Quia, you’ve got to leave some scraps for the brothers this time! Last time, you wore out all those pretty faces yourself!”
“Cut the crap, you bastards. Old rules, place your bets first.”
“Two coins, I’m betting on the kid with the scarred face. Look at his scrawny frame, his useless body – it’d be a miracle if he survived the first round.”
“Then I’ll put my money on that skinny monkey behind him. Just look at his trembling expression; I bet he dies in the first round.”
“Three coins, I’m betting on…”
“Damn it, that one’s clearly mine!”
If You’er, Noelle, and Keane represented the newly arrived, then these were the veterans, having languished here for months, even years.
They squatted in the corners of the hall, their eyes gleaming with fervent interest as they scrutinized the fresh arrivals in the center.
The most striking figure among them was undoubtedly the man named Quia, a giant of immense strength.
Towering over two meters tall, his massive frame, clad in an oversized undershirt, was a landscape of bulging, iron-hard muscles, crisscrossed by countless scars from blades and swords.
He seemed less a man and more a human beast, exuding an aura of terrifying ferocity that sent shivers down one’s spine.
Trapped in the center, most of the newcomers found their legs trembling uncontrollably.
They had all heard whispers of this cursed place, and some even understood its brutal customs, knowing full well that each new batch of arrivals would face ruthless exploitation and oppression at the hands of the old-timer ‘local tyrants.’
As the prisoner roster was finalized and the guards withdrew, the ‘old-timers’ finally surged forward, their hands rubbing together in anticipation.
“Listen up! I’m Quia, the boss of this East District! I’m giving you ten counts to strip off all your clothes and hand over anything you’ve got!”
Quia delivered his domineering declaration with blunt force, while the men behind him fixed You’er and the others with gazes as venomous as vipers.
Their greedy, famished eyes seemed intent on stripping them bare, inside and out.
“Alright, let’s begin… One! Two! Three!… Ten!”
By the time Quia reached ten, ninety-nine percent of the newcomers were trembling yet obedient, swiftly shedding every stitch of clothing.
Some of the more timid even ripped off their underwear, leaving their nakedness exposed in a truly jarring display.
Among them, Keane, who calmly managed to retain his boxers, was a rare exception.
“Damn it, is this all the trash we get this time? Not a single woman! Bastards! I’m going to kill someone!”
As Quia’s gaze swept over the newcomers from head to toe, failing to find the ‘person’ he desired, his notorious temper flared, sending a ripple of fear through his own subordinates.
“Don’t panic, Boss Quia,” one of his subordinates interjected, pointing towards You’er and Noelle. “There are still two people over there who haven’t moved.”
Standing in a secluded corner, You’er and Noelle had been obscured by the mass of naked men in front of them, and their relatively short stature had caused Quia to inadvertently overlook them.
“Scarface, why aren’t you stripping? And you, get out of the way! Let me see the person behind you!”
Quia advanced, each step bringing him closer, his formidable physique looming like a mountain.
“My apologies, but there’s nothing here for you to take, neither from me nor from the person behind me.”
You’er met Quia’s oppressive presence without a trace of fear, staring him down directly.
His eyes, though obscured by strips of cloth, unexpectedly conveyed a chilling, icy resolve to onlookers.
To everyone’s astonishment, You’er remained utterly resolute, refusing to yield an inch.
“Has this kid lost his mind?”
“Tsk, tsk, another brat who doesn’t know his place. Just wait and see how miserable his end will be.”
“Ah, if only he’d just endured it and handed over his things. They’re not worth much anyway.”
“Things? Heh, perhaps you haven’t noticed yet, but take a closer look at the person that kid is hiding behind him.”
“That physique, that scent… Holy hell! That’s a woman! Damn, no wonder this kid’s fighting tooth and nail; he fancies himself a knight in shining armor.”
“I just hope he doesn’t end up losing his life trying to be one!”
The reason for You’er’s unwavering stance had already been articulated by the men around him: it was, indeed, for Noelle!
How could You’er possibly permit her to be stripped naked and humiliated in front of such a crowd?
Thus, from the very outset, this matter was non-negotiable!
“My young friend, a moment of forbearance can bring peace… alas.”
Meanwhile, Keane, holding his boxers up to prevent them from slipping, offered a helpless, bitter smile.
This was precisely the outcome he had feared!
In this place, what was truly most precious? Money? Fame? Profit?… No! Not at all!
It was women!
These men lived each day on the precipice of death.
Their sole outlet for pent-up aggression was the arena, located directly adjacent to the hall—a place for both venting and accumulating deeper brutality.
Therefore, the only true form of release was **! And a nearly mad, desperate kind of ** at that!
Yet, across the vast expanse of the Death Arena, even scouring all four sectors, the total number of women could be counted on half a hand.
In the past, or rather, typically, these men usually found their release with the ‘help’ of their companions.
Consequently, whenever a woman arrived here, no matter her appearance—even a gaunt, withered old woman—these men would not be particular.
And now, the prisoners, the local tyrants, and Quia himself, were driven to madness by this very fact!
“Since you refuse to yield, then there’s only one option left… I invite you to die!”
Having already closed the distance, Quia, standing before You’er, bypassed any further ultimatum.
Looming over the boy, who seemed like a defiant dwarf oblivious to his impending doom, he brought his massive fist crashing down with savage intent.