Chapter 735: Duoen Town - Fighting Arena (Part 2)

Jier's description was somewhat mean, but it was very vivid.

The others were not as cautious as he was; Mr. Scott even started cursing out loud: "Rosa, you short thing, I told you not to run around late at night, why are you still like this!"

He seemed to play here often, so he knew the manager of this place.

"Oh, it's Mr. Scott of the 'Burning Furnace', apologies, apologies, I startled everyone! My fault, it's all my fault."

The person arriving stopped 'rolling' and only then began to walk over properly. Borrowing the meager lighting on the Rock Passage, Jier saw that the person arriving was a short and exceptionally fat middle-aged man.

The two upturned mustaches on his face were slightly comical, but the burly thugs following behind this person were truly existences that an ordinary person would not dare to underestimate.

"Ah, and Mr. Deripari and Mr. Autosfiten are here too, good evening to both respected gentlemen! And this one, presumably, must be the Northern Knight who came to town today? Greetings, greetings."

After greeting the other two Senior Stewards, this middle-aged Fighting Arena steward, who looked like a refined wine barrel, bowed reluctantly to Jier. Watching how much effort it took, Jier doubted whether this person could even see his own feet when he lowered his head past his belly.

"Hmm, this is my first time in Duoen Town, and I just happened to be attending a banquet tonight, so I came over for some entertainment. What kind of fun things do you have here? Mr. Bantuolisa boasted earlier that your place is even better than the beast-fighting arena in the city? Is that really the case?"

The short, fat middle-aged steward named Rosa looked at the old Mr. Bantuolisa with surprise; he hadn't expected that his own territory, which was usually not highly regarded, would be so well-thought-of by his superiors.

He quickly responded to the young Knight's question: "Yes, yes! Although the night is already half over, I still have some spectacular duels that haven't been brought out yet! Since you Knight lords and gentlemen have visited tonight, I will certainly have my subordinates bring out the best matches to ensure everyone is satisfied! This is not the place to talk, please move your feet and head to the internal viewing platform!"

Clearing the way, the short and fat Rosa moved sideways, shuffling his small legs as he walked in front to make room for the group following behind to enter the passage.

Compared to the pitch-black appearance of the slums outside at night, although the rock passage inside the Fighting Arena was narrow and lacked sufficient lighting, it was still much better than outside.

After entering the main gate, the group first walked more than ten meters along a curved passage to the right, and then, amidst the echoing sounds that were gradually becoming noisy, they walked into a thick wooden door specially opened on the side.

Carved on this thick wooden door were two small figures fighting with Daggers and swords; the movements were quite abstract, and it was clear the carver did not have any combat skills, so the carving on the door had more symbolic meaning than practical significance.

However, as soon as they entered this thick wooden door, the stone steps they were met with were actually covered with a rare wool carpet.

Jier raised his eyebrows, walked at the front of the group, followed the leading short and fat steward, and after climbing more than ten steps with a turn, arrived at an indoor viewing platform that was not particularly large.

It was about twenty square meters, with a rock wall on one side and a viewing platform covered by thick curtains on the other.

At this moment, the noisy and clamorous sounds were vaguely coming from the other side of the thick curtains, mixed with cheers and curses, as well as people's screams and shouts; Jier even took a long time to realize that some of the vicious curses used only by locals were indeed insults.

"Apologies, my lords, those watching below are mostly uneducated poor people; please forgive their lowly voices for disturbing your ears."

The short and fat steward was about to bow and apologize, but Mr. Scott didn't care about that at all. He walked to the edge of the thick curtain, lifted a corner with his hand, and looked at the bright and noisy environment outside with great interest: "That's enough, this is the feeling I wanted, haha, hurry down and arrange some new fighting events for tonight, they must be exciting and good to watch, they absolutely cannot lose to the city's beast-fighting arena. Otherwise, the boast someone made won't be able to be rounded off."

Mr. Bantuolisa snorted indignantly, ignored the sharp-tongued Scott, found a seat near the edge for himself, and tapped his finger on the small empty table next to the seat: "Rosa, is this how you treat distinguished guests? Not even any wine? Where is your private collection?"

Being spoken to like that by his immediate superior, the short and fat steward immediately jumped up, his expression agitated as he shrieked at the thugs who had followed them in last: "Yes, yes, yes! Where is my collection of wine? Where are the Maids I called for? And the fruit and desserts! Hurry, hurry, hurry! Go and urge them! What are you still standing there for? Do you want to go down and fight people yourself? Move faster!"

The urged thugs were in a flurry and immediately ran out to contact the various supplies and utensils for the Fighting Arena's VIP room.

This VIP viewing room was used on average only once every month or two and was usually empty; fortunately, the cleaning and maintenance had never been neglected, otherwise some of them would have been in real trouble today.

Mr. Autosfiten struggled to find a seat and sat down, then panted and waved his hand to his subordinates: "Open this curtain, let me see what it looks like here."

Steward Rosa was very nervous; when others were about to go up and pull the curtain, he actually stepped in to help personally, which made Mr. Bantuolisa frown in displeasure.

The curtain with a track above was pulled to the sides, and in an instant, everything bright, noisy, and clamorous outside was fully visible from the high VIP viewing platform.

Jier didn't rush to find a place to sit; he came to the stone railing in front, and like Mr. Scott, he leaned his upper body out, looking at everything below from a height similar to the second or third floor.

The Fighting Arena was an open circular indoor venue with a rock dome on top, on which were several huge protruding lamp holders burning wood with oil, providing lighting for the entire spacious indoor environment.

Next to the lamp holders were holes the size of a human head, and the smoke produced by the burning materials inside the lamp holders was somehow sucked in and discharged outside the building. Clearly, the designer of this building had well considered the smoke exhaust and ventilation for the lighting fixtures when designing the architecture.

Directly opposite the circular stone ceiling at the bottom was a fighting arena about fifteen meters in diameter. The place was not large, but a little over a hundred square meters was barely enough for the combat used for viewing.

The ground of the fighting arena was reddish sandy soil soaked with blood; the ground was flat, but a few broken weapons were scattered on it. At this moment, two men were brawling chaotically in this place.

The onlookers were cursing and shouting from the audience seats one level higher around the fighting arena. As soon as Jier listened, he knew that most of it was cursing at the fighting level of the two. Words like "I could do better than that" and "pick up the broken weapons on the ground to beat the enemy," mixed with local slang and insults, were all reflected back and forth in the room.

Along with the intrusion of the sound, what was even more impressive was the indescribable smell that drifted over.

Different from the pure smell of blood, the smell Jier smelled at this time was also mixed with vomited food, excrement, the sour smell of sweat on people's bodies, and the bad breath emitted when everyone was cursing and clamoring.

All mixed together, it poured into the VIP viewing room from the opened curtain.

Mr. Scott sniffed the smell with an intoxicated look, a strange smile appearing on his face: "Haha, Knight Jier, how is it? Does this smell help you digest well?"

Jier's expression remained as usual, and he shrugged easily; clearly, this was a small matter to him.

But the friends behind him couldn't take it. Mr. Autosfiten's face quickly turned pale, and he signaled his attendants to find utensils to catch the vomit.

Fortunately, this had clearly been prepared in the VIP room; an exquisite wooden bucket was delivered to Mr. Autosfiten's mouth, and he hugged it and vomited directly. But he hadn't eaten much that night, so he didn't vomit much, and could only lie back on the chair, panting weakly.

The short and fat steward had a terrified expression, fearing that Mr. Autosfiten, as a Senior Steward of the United Merchant Guild, would develop a feeling of disgust toward him.

But clearly, the others didn't see it that way.

Mr. Bantuolisa covered his mouth and nose with a pure white handkerchief he carried with him, and asked with a smile: "How is it, young man?"

However, Mr. Autosfiten was also an exceptionally stubborn person. After he finished vomiting and panting, his complexion improved slightly, so he learned to cover his mouth and nose with a handkerchief and responded weakly: "Very good, Mr. Bantuolisa. I am doing great now, um, woo, this place, is, is also just so-so."

At this time, some of the hospitality that should be in the VIP room was gradually delivered; the private collection of wine from the local steward, Mr. Rosa, turned out to be two large glass bottles of Empire-produced Wine, which surprised everyone present quite a bit.

"Good stuff, Rosa, I didn't expect you to have such good stuff hidden away; I haven't seen you take it out to treat me before? Well, Mr. Bantuolisa comes, and you take it out, right?"

Scott shrieked strangely, walked over and snatched a bottle from the thugs, first found the origin and vintage of the Empire-produced Wine on the bottle, and then shouted excitedly: "It's Wine produced in Palanduolu! Looking at the vintage, it's from the Empire year 773, a ten-year-old good wine. Rosa, don't tell me this is new stock you just got your hands on?"

The short and fat steward Rosa waved his hands with a look of wanting to cry but having no tears: "It really just arrived, a wine worth collecting, really, it was a gift my relative brought me last winter."

However, no one present believed him, and Scott even snatched a wine glass from the Maid who had arrived, opened the bottle, and poured himself a glass.

But he didn't rush to drink it; instead, he first let the Wine fully contact the air in the glass, and in the process, carefully sniffed the aroma of the Wine in the glass.

"What a pity, this place really doesn't deserve this bottle of good wine."

Mr. Autosfiten refuted Scott's view: "That's not necessarily true, here, um, the smell of blood here is actually quite suitable for this glass of deep red liquid. Didn't the poet Coningdes say: 'Wine is like fresh blood, best drunk on the battlefield.' Although this is not a battlefield, it is a place of bloody slaughter, so it should, it should be quite suitable, right?"

He didn't even believe what he was saying himself, but after Jier took a glass of Wine poured by the Maid, he leaned slightly against the railing, watching the two young men brawling below, and sniffed the wine glass he held up, feeling it was quite suitable.

He felt that compared to the previous banquet hall, this place made him feel more at ease.

Especially the roars and curses of the poor people watching below, which reminded him of the fighting matches every day after the army camped for a period of time before.

The aroma of the wine reminded him of the experiences of being knocked down in those matches, as well as the experiences of subsequently knocking one opponent after another to the ground.

Mr. 'Gaunt Aolier', who had been silent all along, leaned forward slightly to look at the fighting below at this time, frowned, and said to the steward of this place, Rosa: "We've been here for a while, how come those two soft-legged shrimps haven't finished fighting yet? Don't you see the audience is getting a bit bored?"

Receiving the instruction, the short and fat steward immediately bowed, saying yes, yes, and then turned around and shouted sharply and loudly at the thugs: "Did you hear that? Mr. Deripari and the other distinguished guests cannot stand this kind of time-dragging fight, go down and tell those two, if they don't finish within fifty breaths, no matter who wins today, not a single cent of the debt they owe will be reduced! Defeat the opponent! I'll reward the winner with one silver, no, twenty, copper, copper coins!"

The thug facing him rolled his eyes, feeling helpless at the stinginess of this steward, and had no choice but to take the order and go down.

Very quickly, the crowd on the viewing platform saw the thug arrive at the stone steps of the Fighting Arena's fence and say something to the two people below. Following that, the two young men, who had been hesitant and fighting cautiously, were as if injected with chicken blood; they roared and charged at each other, grappling together.

The audience was startled, then perked up and crowded to the front, waving the small wooden chips in their hands and cheering hoarsely for the person they had bet on.

"Hit! Hit his eyes!"

"Idiot, bite his ear! That thing is right by your mouth! Open your mouth and bite!"

"Good, good, tripping him is fine too! If I win, I'll treat you to a drink!"

"Bastard! Bastard! F***, move back, drag him down! Hey, what are you doing!"

Soon, in less than fifty breaths, the fight was decided. The young man who had tripped his opponent stood on the ground with a bloody face, roaring loudly, enjoying the cheers and curses of the people around him. His opponent, meanwhile, lay unconscious on the slightly reddish sandy ground, one arm broken, lying there with blood at the corner of his eye.

Soon, the low iron gates on both sides of the Fighting Arena were opened, and staff from the Fighting Arena walked out, carried away the injured, and delivered a piece of paper documentation to the standing winner.

The young man who had defeated his opponent carefully looked at the paper document in front of him, even comparing whether the red handprint on it matched his own palm.

Finally, the young man cheered and tore the paper to shreds, waving his fists while cheering even more excitedly.

Jier chuckled: "So this is the debt document of a debtor? Is that thing real or fake?"

The short and fat Mr. Rosa did not dare to respond, but Mr. Bantuolisa said solemnly: "Of course it is real. If it were fake, could this place continue to operate for long? Right? Business pursues long-term maintenance like a mountain stream, not a momentary profit harvest like a flash flood. Therefore, credibility—whether it is the credibility of decent people among Merchant Guild partners, or the low-level credibility with these debtors—is important and needs to be maintained for a long time."

These words were not only in response to Knight Jier, but also spoken for the Steward here to hear.

Mr. Rosa looked as if he understood, though it was unclear whether he was faking it or had truly taken it to heart.

The other Senior Stewards all understood these grand principles, so they didn't take it to heart either, sipping the rare wine in small mouthfuls while guessing the next fighting event.

Because he had come in a hurry, Steward Rosa did not know what his subordinates had arranged next. He wiped his sweat carefully, only hoping that his subordinates could produce something highly entertaining so that these big shots, none of whom he could afford to offend, would be satisfied with tonight.

Usually, he acted like a tyrant here; he never imagined he would be so nervous today.

Scott, who came here often, was fine. Although he was a Senior Steward of the 'Burning Furnace' Merchant Guild, his personality was quite compatible with his. Usually, the other party wouldn't come to this high viewing area, but would personally shout and cheer in the audience seats, enjoying the matches.

Especially since this person was wealthy; every time he placed a bet, the amount was not small, far from what those paupers with no money in their pockets could compare to.

It was just that today, his top superior—Mr. Bantuolisa, who almost never came here—had also come, which made him extra nervous, fearing that a mistake would occur, or that something that shouldn't be seen would be seen.

Because his position, to be honest, could be appointed or dismissed by a single word from Mr. Bantuolisa.

Ultimately, this place was entirely an independent industry of the 'Golden Sickle' Merchant Guild, with no other merchant guild funds or personnel involved, so how it was managed and who managed it was a matter of a single word from the Senior Steward of the Merchant Guild.

Moreover, in the United Merchant Guild in Duoen Town, unlike other merchant guilds, as a Senior Steward, Bantuolisa had no one else to share power with; he was the highest manager of all affairs of the 'Golden Sickle' Merchant Guild in Duoen Town. Other people in the Merchant Guild had industries in other places and had spread their operations very wide; neither the President nor the Vice President were in Duoen Town.

Especially in the current chaotic situation, it was estimated that for the next year or so, other stewards of the Merchant Guild would not come over.

That was why the short and fat Rosa was so nervous at this moment.

"Next, what we present to everyone is: Beast hunters from the southern mountains, facing off against a group of Goblin Monsters with several human lives on their hands! This is a special program for tonight, dedicated to the VIPs in the VIP room. Let us cheer for the Long-haired Lynx Beast from the southern forests!"

It was unknown which host was speaking where, but his voice was transmitted through the sound mechanism in the corner of the Fighting Arena, echoing repeatedly in the wide arena.

The audience who heard these words were extremely excited. They hadn't expected the Long-haired Lynx Beast, which had only arrived a few times before, to appear on the field again tonight; this was very surprising.

Many people had not heard the name of this alien race, so they asked those who had seen the Long-haired Lynx Beast appear last time to understand exactly how strong these guys were.

After all, in the time before the match started, it was exactly when they were placing their bets.

And the opponents of the Long-haired Lynx Beast were the backbone of the monster group in the Fighting Arena—Goblins!

The Goblins caught by Hunters were specially raised in the Jianlao under the Fighting Arena, often performing bloody and intense matches for them, such as fighting farmers alone, or a group of ten fighting a small group of wild beasts.

This was a heavyweight project that only happened once a month. Unexpectedly, with VIPs watching the fight today, the Fighting Arena specially presented this kind of exciting and bloody battle, and many pauper audience members were howling with excitement.

They looked one after another toward the direction of the VIP viewing room, where the thick curtains were rarely opened.

It seemed that in their eyes, these VIPs who could come here to watch this kind of bloody fight were an even rarer sight than the battle between monsters and alien races.

The first thing that caught the eye was Mr. Scott of the 'Burning Furnace' Merchant Guild. However, this guy often came here, and many paupers knew him. This guy actually smiled and waved at the bottom, saying hello.

"Oh! It's the noble and wealthy Master Scott!"

"Who is that person? Don't recognize him."

Jier leaned against the side of the viewing room fence, holding a wine glass, and looked down. Every pauper who looked over and made eye contact with him felt a shiver all over and awkwardly avoided the eye contact.

Some old gamblers who often lingered in the Fighting Arena even felt that the young man who didn't look like a merchant had a smell of blood on him that was even richer than the blood-stained sand and stone ground of the Fighting Arena that was never replaced.

The other three Senior Stewards sitting on the viewing chairs had already put on the thin Mask handed over by the short and fat Steward Rosa. This was a concealment item worn by VIPs who did not want their identities to be seen.

Mr. Autosfiten had a white smiling Mask, which actually matched his complexion quite well.

Mr. Bantuolisa had a yellow sorrowful Mask. The old gentleman expressed nothing about this, and Steward Rosa's face actually matched the sorrowful Mask very well.

Mr. Deripari, 'the gaunt Aolier', had a blue calm Mask, just like his expression after arriving here; he neither liked this place nor expressed dislike.

Not liking this place meant that he personally admired and envied the lives of Nobles; he personally preferred more elegant entertainment activities.

But not expressing dislike was a gesture toward Knight Jier; after all, Knight Jier, as a young Knight, seemed to quite like this place, so he could not show disgust, lest he make Knight Jier dislike him.