Stratholme God

  Chapter 43 The lok'tar plan (middle)

   On this day, the White Cross Arena of Lordaeron was full of people.

"kill him!"

   "Kill that monster!"

   "Go on!"

  In the ring-shaped arena, everyone in the audience waved their arms back and forth frantically. Some people were holding bets representing bets, and some people were just trying to make a lively gesture with a knife in their hands.

   In a gladiatorial arena the size of a basketball court, four gladiators stared at the green-skinned demon in the arena with trembling legs.

   That troll was seriously injured, no matter how he looked at it, his life was not long. There were at least four broken spears stuck in his chest.

  Although the troll has a super physical regeneration ability, but there are obstacles in the wound, and his self-healing power is unable to do anything.

  In the beginning, the trolls' opponents were little wandering, unruly thieves. Trolls can easily rip those **** to shreds with their fighting instincts. As long as the first opponent is brutally killed, most of the rest will scare away, or be paralyzed and lose their combat effectiveness.

   Gradually, the audience got tired of the unilateral killing, and the arena had to send more powerful gladiators for the sake of gambling.

   Today, no matter how much the trolls slaughter their opponents, the gladiators may be afraid and even cry, but absolutely no one backs away or puts down their weapons.

   "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

   His end was of course tragic. The moss-rotten troll knocked off his sword with one hand, grabbed his collar with the other hand, and bit him.

   Ketchup soared into the air.

   However, the two of them rushed over one by one, attracting the remaining attention of the troll. Although they were knocked out, a third guy with rogue talent succeeded.

   A dagger slashed the troll's neck.

   "Cough...ah-" The vitality of trolls is indeed very strong, and it is not invincible. When his throat was cut open, no matter how strong his self-healing power was, he could not exert himself.

   The two who were just knocked flying took the opportunity to pounce on them...

   "Hahaha!" When the three **** guys held up the severed troll head, the audience's excitement reached its peak.

   "Oooooooh-" They applauded without hesitation.

Only the owner of the arena, Ritter Planck, was worried: "Damn, the audience's appetite has been fed. Ordinary gladiators are definitely not seen now, the attendance rate is less than 50%, and there are not many people. Note, but the trolls are dying. Can't anyone bring a horde of troll gladiators?"

   At this moment, a squire came over and said a few words, and Ritt was instantly happy: "Really!?"

   "It's from the Duke of Stratholme. He got on the line from Stormwind Kingdom. I don't know what he paid for it. Anyway, the first 120 orcs have been shipped to Solidan Farm."

  Solidan Farm is a farm on the far west side of the Tirisfal Glades by the sea, which is the fief of the Duke of Tirisfal. Being there means that the Duke of Stratholme has made a pleasant py deal with someone.

   To put it bluntly, all the large arenas in Lordaeron City have the shadows of great nobles behind them.

   Every arena owner is just a pawn.

   A large number of slave owners flocked to the Solidan farm. After they paid a high price to buy the orcs who had been fed anesthesia, they couldn't wait to transport the carriages containing the orcs back overnight.

   They paid an average price of nearly a hundred gold coins per orc.

   It was a crazy auction, but they had no choice.

   Inquisitive Lordaeron nobles will flock frantically to those arenas with orc gladiators. A arena without orc slaves will be regarded as garbage and lose nine streets in competitiveness.

   "As long as it arrives tomorrow... I will make a fortune!" After entering Lordaeron, Ritter was laughing from ear to ear when he suddenly encountered an accident and the convoy stopped: "What's going on?"

  The coachman replied: "A carriage has overturned ahead."

  Ritter stuck his head out and saw that it was a rather tragic car accident.

   On the side road that can accommodate two carriages passing in parallel, two carriages collided, one horse broke his neck on the spot, and the other broke his leg, neighing miserably.

  The marble blocks transported by one car were scattered all over the place, and the groceries scattered by another car blocked all the remaining roads. The two drivers were arguing fiercely. The city guards have arrived and scolded them to clean up as soon as possible.

  When the convoy transporting the orcs turned to another road, they encountered another bathhouse that burst into a septic tank.

   "Evil door." Ritter muttered, making the team change lanes again.

  Unconsciously, this huge convoy of fifteen carriages came to King Street.

   At this time, a court dance was about to end, and more than thirty carriages of great nobles were walking down the street.

   Of course, they couldn't scramble for the road with the big nobles, so they stopped obediently to the side of the road.

   As Duke Andorhal's carriage passed by, something terrible happened!

"Roar-"

   It was an inhuman roar, a wild and heroic roar, easily reminiscent of the 10,000-year wilderness.

   That was the era when trolls dominated, and it was also the era when humans drank blood.

   An orc in a cage woke up unexpectedly.

  The terrifying demon blood was burning in his body, and with the blood circulating at a high speed, it spread to every corner of his body.

   When he realized the reality that he was being held captive, he went berserk.

   "Oooooooooooooooo!" With the vague roar, the muscles in his limbs bulged rapidly. Synchronized with these bloated muscles is a terrifying force that is unimaginable for mortals.

   "Bangdang!"

   Crisp crackling sound!

  Thick iron shackles with a thick thumb can be easily broken!

  This furious orc ripped off the iron branches of the cage in a few strokes, and started his slaughter frenzy.

   "Catch it! Don't kill it!" While Ritter panicked, he still gave the order to capture it alive.

   The orcs in his eyes are the walking Arathor gold coins!

  This stupid order ruined the lives of several of his guards.

   knocked on the wooden stick on top of the green head, and it was easily interrupted. The orc grabbed a guard's head and pulled the unlucky devil's head and a large section of his spine out of his body like a carrot.

   This scene was so **** that Duchess Andorhal, who just opened the carriage curtain just out of curiosity, fainted on the spot.

  If this is just an orc doing things, maybe this riot will be quelled quickly.

   But the furious roar of the orcs awakened more orcs. These monsters, which became infinitely powerful under the stimulation of the power of the blood of the devil, easily killed the bodyguards of the arena and the city guards who came over, and began to slaughter frantically on the street.

   "Guards!"

   "Guardian—"

   "Help! There are monsters!"

  The wide and beautiful long street suddenly became a mess, and the beautiful marble floor was covered with blood.

   (end of this chapter)