The time goes back to two hours before the fight started.
Six o'clock in the morning, the main hall of the Royal City of Ulster.
King Conchiebo sat on the throne, looked at the elderly nobles standing beside him, and said slowly: "Fugal, how many days has it been?"
The elderly nobleman with a gray beard looked at the rising sun in the east and replied: "Three months."
Conchiebo leaned his body against the back of his chair and said in a low voice, "Cuchulin should be dead."
Fergal nodded: "He must be dead."
"One less guy for me to worry about." Conchieber stood up from the throne with difficulty, looked at Fugal and said with a smile: "This way, your daughter Emer will not have to marry that guy.
What a reckless man."
When the king mentioned Emer's name, his words were somewhat excited, and his eyes were a little brighter than before.
Fergal pretended not to notice the other party's intention and took the initiative to change the subject: "Speaking of people who give you headaches, isn't there one less person today?"
"Boyle? That clown-like traitor?!" Conchie Erb laughed: "In my eyes, he is an insignificant bedbug! The only meaning of his survival until now is to let those who are interested in me
You two-hearted people, look at the tragic consequences of disobeying me!"
Fergal stroked his beard and thought thoughtfully: "I heard that the opponent Chihuan found for him was the infamous Skinner?"
Conchie Erb patted his fat belly: "The traitor should be given the most brutal death penalty! Peel off every inch of his skin, pick off every fascia, and break every bone.
!His flesh and blood and howling will be the best lesson to those watching the battle today!"
Fergal shrugged, accustomed to such roars.
The attendant appeared at the door of the hall and said respectfully: "Your Majesty, the gladiatorial battle will officially begin in one hour."
Conchiebo threw up his fur robe, strode towards the palace door, laughed loudly and said: "These boring and boring days have made me tired! I just need such a massacre to make me happy! Come on.
Come on, let us witness together, the new animal in the red circle!"
An hour later, the Red Circle Arena.
Todd kicked the Skinner into the air, and Conchiarb sprayed the drink into the air.
"What's going on? What's going on?!" The King of Ulster slammed the copper wine glass on the ground and shouted angrily: "Where did you find such a piece of shit! Even a dying man
Can’t beat it?!”
Looking at the sweat-soaked arena director next to him, Fergal said to the king in a speculative tone: "Could it be an act?"
Conchie Erb turned his head, the anger still on his face, and shouted: "Acting?!"
"I have often heard others say that in order to increase the fighting effect of gladiatorial combat, strong men often pretend to be defeated at the beginning to arouse the atmosphere of the audience." Fugal stroked his beard and said thoughtfully: "Your Majesty, you
Think about it. If the fight has just begun and the weaker party has no chance to resist and is directly slaughtered, how will the audience who bought the tickets react?"
Conchie Erbo was stunned, lowered his head and thought for a moment, then shouted with a red face: "That makes sense! So that's how it is!"
Then, he turned his head to the shivering Arena Director, and said with approval: "It's really hard for you, you even took these things into consideration."
The supervisor showed a smile that was uglier than crying, and shouted in his heart: I didn't make these fucking arrangements at all!!!
Compared to this poor supervisor, there was another person on the scene who was also in a panic.
Todd, who was holding a sword and shield, had large drops of sweat on his forehead.
After kicking out, his first reaction was that it was over, I wouldn't just kick this guy to death, would I?
Looking at the opponent struggling on the ground, Todd pretended to be weak to confuse the audience and whispered to encourage the enemy: "Stand up, stand up! Believe in yourself, you can do it!"
Not sure if God heard his voice, the Skinner finally stood up unsteadily.
This two-meter-tall man had obvious intellectual flaws. He looked at Todd in confusion, unable to understand how he had just been knocked down. The blood spilling from the corner of his mouth showed that he had suffered huge trauma inside his body.
Next, Todd cheered up and accompanied his opponent to start his debut in the arena.
The Skinner swung his scythe and struck Todd's shield.
It was obviously a weak attack, but the latter pretended to be hit hard. First he kicked off his legs and jumped backwards, then fell heavily to the ground, rolled two or three times, and finally pretended to use the weapon as a crutch.
, climbed up and held on for a while, then fell to the ground again.
Unfortunately for his opponent, whose IQ was worrying, he continued to cooperate with Todd's performance.
After a while, the Skinner's scythe scratched Todd's leather armor, and blood spattered; the latter returned the favor, leaving a wound on the enemy's thigh.
The uninformed spectators on the field let out thunderous shouts. In their eyes, this was an evenly matched and exciting battle.
The King of Ulster in the VIP stand was so excited as he watched the fight taking place in the field. He patted the armrests of the stand and shouted excitedly: "Okay! This is a good block! I can't tell."
, that Boyle can still persist until now under such an attack!"
The director of the arena looked at the two people in the arena, his face pale, because he could no longer understand everything in front of him.
In the huge venue, only two people knew what happened.
One of course is Todd.
The other one was Rachel, who knew Todd's strength well, but she was sitting in the stands, looking hopeless, and her eyes almost rolled to the sky!
This shocking and epic duel lasted for more than half an hour.
The two of them were going back and forth, fighting inextricably, with life and death at stake.
By the end of the fight, Todd and the Skinner had completely lost their strength. They dropped their weapons, relying solely on their male bloodiness to draw out their lives with one punch and one kick.
Finally, the skinner with severe internal injuries could no longer hold on, and fell straight down in the mud, never getting up again.
Exhausted, Todd fell to his knees, raised his hands tremblingly, and announced his victory to everyone.
The entire arena was boiling with excitement. People threw flowers and coins into the arena and loudly praised Boyle's heroic appearance and spirit of fighting bravely without fear of powerful enemies.
The King of Ulster, Conchieber, sat back on the chair in the stand, drank all the wine in the cup, and shouted with great excitement: "It's so happy! It's so happy!"
Fergal touched the king with his elbow and motioned for him to look towards the venue.
Conchieber stood up and saw all the spectators in the venue, pointing their thumbs in the direction of him, shouting the same words: "Let him live! Let him live!"
Conchieber's face darkened. According to the tradition inherited by the Northern Continent from the ancient Tyrol period, after a gladiator ends the battle, if the audience is satisfied with his performance, he will point his thumbs up and use
Use words to ask the king for his right to live.
In the past, Conchieber might have agreed with the audience's opinions without hesitation, but today's gladiators are a little special.
A traitor, a thorn in the side who should have been executed.
Fergal walked to the king's side and reminded in a low voice: "Your Majesty, if you kill him forcibly today, it will cause everyone's dissatisfaction. It is better to comply with people's hearts... There will be many opportunities in the future."
Conchieber thought about it carefully, then walked to the stand, in front of all the audience, smiled and raised his thumb up, indicating that Boyle was alive today.
Listening to the deafening cheers coming from his ears, Todd showed a smile on his lips, closed his eyes, pretended to be exhausted, and lay down on the ground.
Conchieber walked down from the stands, and before leaving, he glanced at the director of the arena fiercely. The latter was so frightened by this gnawing look that he slumped to the ground.
As the King of Ulster walked, he sighed to Fergal beside him: "Today's battle was really exciting. If there is a flaw, it is the kick at the beginning. It was really fake..."