Nearly 16-year-old Flying Ant and Mishir were finally preparing to leave the Bloodhorn Arena.
After paying their own ransoms, the two still had over ten thousand gold coins left.
Seeing their determination to leave, Henwil offered them so advice.
He suggested they shouldn't rashly leave Hidden Sin City imdiately, but instead seek shelter with one of the local factions here.
Mishir could go to the Joy House - Henwil certainly wasn't suggesting she sell her body.
Rather, the Joy House lacked combat strength, especially female combat personnel.
The Joy House's leadership were all won who brought male bodyguards, which often proved inconvenient.
Additionally, they didn't trust n.
Therefore, an elite female warrior like Mishir would quickly gain important positions there.
Especially since Mishir was so young with great potential, they would be willing to invest significant resources in her developnt.
Don't underestimate these won's resources and connections - they could definitely obtain the inheritance needed to make Mishir a knight.
A female knight would bring both prestige and practical benefits to their organization.
So by joining them, Mishir could not only gain protection for several more years,
but also utilize the Joy House's influence to accomplish her revenge.
As for Flying Ant, Henwil told him to choose between the Brotherhood and the City Lord's mansion.
Both factions could beco supporting forces during his growth process.
Flying Ant and Mishir were both famous young gladiators who had gained recognition from nobles in every aspect.
If they wanted to find patronage, all parties would be willing to accept them.
After sending off his two companions, Henwil continued his money-making debt repaynt mission.
Within a year, Henwil had earned nearly seventy thousand gold coins.
Bloodhorn generously handed over the indentured contracts of those young gladiators to Henwil.
After all, as long as Henwil didn't leave, those young gladiators had beco useless now.
After a year of training, a new generation of local young gladiators were about to make their debut at the Bloodhorn Arena.
Bloodhorn was quite satisfied with Henwil and others' training.
Although they were much worse than this generation of young gladiators, this wouldn't provoke hostility from other arenas.
As for the remaining money, Bloodhorn wasn't worried about Henwil being unable to repay.
He now had a new plan - even if Henwil repaid all his debt, he wouldn't kill the goose that lays the golden eggs.
Nor would he squeeze Henwil's last value before he bought his freedom.
Bloodhorn planned to cultivate Henwil into a champion gladiator.
In another year, when the next gladiatorial tournant arrived, he intended to have Henwil compete.
The youngest champion gladiator who broke records would obviously make excellent publicity.
Henwil also realized this and felt sowhat confident about becoming champion gladiator.
The nearly fourteen-year-old Henwil had lost count of how many body tempering potions he had used.
Theoretically, even a pig could beco an extraordinary piglet with so many potions.
Henwil still hadn't perceived battle energy, but his physical strength continued growing steadily.
His physical enhancent seed endless, constantly becoming stronger.
Now Henwil could tear steel barehanded, but still couldn't reach Scarface Oki's level.
Henwil felt like he had practiced hard qigong - whenever he exerted force, his skin beca as tough as leather.
His bones were even sturdier, almost comparable to steel.
Having seen Knight Rank combat before, Henwil felt he wouldn't fear facing a knight head-on now.
Originally Henwil wanted to communicate with the 'split personality' in his mind to understand his situation.
After all, ntally ill people have broad thinking!
But it turned out he couldn't speak in the chat group, with the prompt showing insufficient permissions.
This made Henwil feel sowhat strange, as if he wasn't ntally ill.
That seed more like a golden finger, except he hadn't reached the triggering qualification yet.
Later, Henwil frequently checked the chat records.
Not everyone could speak daily anymore, and each person seed to have different speaking limits - so could only say one sentence.
Others could even speak over ten sentences, while only that girl in the group could send voice ssages.
Others also had insufficient permissions, and nobody had figured out the specific standards.
Not long after Henwil celebrated his fourteenth birthday,
after a bloodshed match, the chat group sent him a private ssage.
'User has completed thousand-kill achievent, obtained Thousand Slayer title, beginning reward matching... Reward determined, choose to accept?'
What was there to wait for?
Divine weapons, peerless techniques, heaven-defying talents, hidden bloodlines - bring them all on!
'Primary Law Fragnt Defense Skin has been delivered!'
Law Fragnt Defense Skin?
What the hell was that?
The system's own skin?
Or skin fragnts?!
Soon, Henwil felt intense, violent pain.
Thinking himself highly pain-tolerant, Henwil didn't even scream before his vision went black and he passed out from the pain.
After Henwil lost consciousness, nurous blood-colored spirits began appearing around him.
They shrieked while transforming into light rays that subrged into Henwil's body.
Henwil's body turned crimson, emitting high temperatures that reduced all his clothes to ashes.
Two or three hours later, Henwil gradually regained consciousness.
Seeing himself lying naked on the ground, he remained dazed for quite a while before rembering what happened.
Holy fucking shit!
It really was a golden finger!
Henwil excitedly examined his body.
Half an hour later, Henwil's face turned as black as a pot bottom.
This golden finger was sowhat useless!
No personal space!
No inheritance techniques!
No innate abilities!
Not even the most basic data panel that transmigrators get!
They didn't even throw in a personal old scher!
His physical attributes only increased slightly, not even noticeably.
Wasn't this probably an expired reward?!
Disappointed as he was, Henwil quickly adjusted his mindset - life had to go on.
Whether he had a golden finger or not, he still had to survive!
Currently Henwil still hadn't bought his freedom, instead giving all his money to those young gladiators as initial plan funding.
Two months later, soone challenged Henwil to a bloodshed gambling match.
It was a just-turned-sixteen 'adult' with quite impressive strength.
A servant trained by a great noble, not far from Knight Rank.
But he only lasted ten minutes against Henwil before Henwil pierced his heart with the War Lance.
Originally Henwil thought this was just an ordinary gambling match with not particularly high bets from the opponent.
Only a few thousand gold coins - probably not soone important.
But within days, Bloodhorn found Henwil.
He brought him to a VIP box where a major figure waited - the second son of Duke Ler, the kingdom's powerful duke.
Duke Ler's second son examined Henwil and told the person beside him: "This is the one who killed your person. This was my mistake - now I hand him over to your disposal!"
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