Sword and Magic and Taxi

Ricas was wearing a drab robe with an iron chain around his neck. He was pulled out of the house by two servants of the slave merchant. The sunlight outside made him frown, but it was the strong Butcher who really made him feel uncomfortable. Like two tigers meeting, Ricas grabbed the chain with both hands and yanked hard, dragging the two servants to the ground. He took off his cloth robe and exposed his muscles.

The scarred muscles were toned, but not as bulging as Butcher's. Compared with absolute strength, he pays more attention to maintaining flexibility, agility and lower consumption. In just a few movements, Ricas moved all the muscles in his body and completed the preliminary warm-up.

This is a bald, middle-aged man with slightly pointed ears, an overly straight nose bridge, and hammer-shaped black pupils, which all indicate that he is a mixed-race person and that he comes from a rather low-class background. They are called Muers, or more vulgarly, mules, a group of people who are unable to reproduce on their own, depriving their offspring of the power of their blood. Legend has it that they are burdened with this hybrid curse and are destined to bloom brilliantly, but they are also destined to be short-lived and fall silent.

Ricas stepped over the servants on the ground and walked straight to Butcher. For thirty years, he has been proud of his strength. He has been a leader in gladiatorial training camps since he was a child, training across one or two age groups. But now, he felt threatened. The strong man in front of him was tall and powerful, and he could tell that those muscles were not for viewing, but for fighting. The most interesting thing is that this strong man is a pure-blooded human being, not another Muir.

This slave of yours is not easy to manage. Zhao Mai said: It is troublesome to use psychic powers, and it will also reduce his combat ability, which is very uneconomical.

The slave trader had already figured it out and immediately said: Sir, this issue is by no means a problem to you. Moreover, isn't what you care about most about strength and cleverness? Likas is strong enough, and he has his own mind. Isn’t he acting very clever now?”

Ricas stood still in front of Butcher and looked at him with his head slightly raised: Big guy, are you his slave?

Butcher snorted coldly, with a contemptuous smile on his face. Because of his body shape, he can only play the role of a slave who uses physical strength to earn food, but that doesn't mean he will cooperate with the performance. Zhao Mai discussed with him that whenever he encounters such a question, there is no need to answer it at all. The questioner will find the answer by himself. If you encounter a manager such as a Templar, everything will be handled by Zhao Mai, who is proficient in language.

This contemptuous smile about slavery caused Ricas to misunderstand him. He turned to look at Zhao Mai and said openly: I am Ricas, the best gladiator within a radius of five hundred miles. I am I can win any championship for you, as long as it's a fair fight. He spoke with a strong rollicking accent from the city of Ulric, which he learned from his mother and first trainer.

So what's unfair? Zhao Mai asked deliberately.

The other party will definitely not be alive, but you will likely face significant losses of money and property, Ricas pointed to himself: That's me.

Zhao Mai clapped his hands twice and said, So, you like fighting?

No, I like to win. Likas said: I hope to be the champion of the Tire City Gladiator. I hope to be the champion of the Temple Tower Competition.

Interesting idea, but why does it have to be the champion of the Temple Tower?

Ricas smiled and did not answer the question. The slave trader came over and was about to say something, when Licas spoke again.

Because if I become that champion, His Majesty the King will stand in front of me and give me my freedom. And this trafficker - I don't even want to call him my lord - may hide this from you. I will only do it for you. The master who can take me to the temple tower competition in Tyr will serve you wholeheartedly, and this news will allow you to make a better counteroffer and save you some money.

After hearing these words, Zhao Mai finally connected the things. This Ricas was none other than the man who attacked the Witch King in the arena, triggered a rebellion, and finally accomplished the feat of killing the Witch King. He is the Spartacus of this world, and the version that wins in the end. After that, he also went on a series of adventures, overturning the entire world of Atas, and was known as the person who created the Age of Heroes.

No matter what, this person has to buy it. Zhao Mai immediately took out two steel daggers and threw them to the slave trader, as well as a whole bag of gold coins and gems. From now on, you are mine, he declared.

That's not enough money, my lord. He's a Moor, one worth as much as a hundred slaves!

You said that his previous master was executed, so you must have obtained him at a very low price. Looking at the quality of your remaining slaves, you know that you do not have enough funds, and you must not have spent much money. Zhao Mai waved his hand, signaling Licas to crawl out of it, and then stood next to Butcher. I advise you to look at what you have in your hands, think about the profits you have already made, think about the new potential benefits that your greed has induced you to strive for, and the inevitable risks you will take. Calculate before you speak.

I wish you success, sir. The slave trader deftly put away the steel dagger and gold, took a look at Butcher, and decided to put it away as soon as possible.

Remember, I am Mike and this is Butcher. Zhao Mai said to Likas: Tell me more about the competition between Tire City and Temple Tower. Where did you hear the news?

Not long after they left, a man wearing a purple-black robe and combing his brown hair into twelve whips came to the slave trader with a team of servants. His sharp eyes are hidden on both sides of his aquiline nose. When he stares at people, he can't help but feel nervous and awkward.

Ah, respected Lord Templar, what is the purpose of your visit?

I heard that you have a Murur here and a gladiator. Is this the case?

It has been sold. It was taken away by a businessman not long ago. They are going to Tire City to participate in the gladiatorial competition, the one in the temple tower.

The hook-nosed man was obviously dissatisfied and shouted behind him: Boaz, didn't I tell you to ensure that this slave becomes mine?

A skinny servant knelt down with a thud, and the people around him scurried out of the way like the plague. Boaz hit his head on the ground and said in a panic: Lord Tessian, I found the wrong slave trader. I found another slave trader.

Oh, I know. The Templar glanced at the slave trader, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly. Then he raised his foot, and with the tremendous momentum enhanced by his psychic powers, he crushed Boaz's neck bones without even looking at him.

Now tell me, do you have any good slaves here?