Chenxi Port Central District.

Imperial Arena.

These circular buildings were the product of Old Aran. During that time, slavery existed, and various Magic Beasts were brought in to entertain the audience by watching slaves or death row inmates battle dangerous creatures. Aside from PvE content, there was of course also PvP, player versus player, but many could only play once.

The Emperor championed the military arts and didn't destroy these buildings when he came to power. Although in the new laws, death row inmates had their political rights stripped away, they still had human rights, and public cruelty was deemed inappropriate, allowing at most for public execution.

Cruelty and execution are two different concepts.

But people were still encouraged to come to the arena to play.

Dueling was permitted in Aran, and the Emperor himself, as a sovereign of the state, set a rather wild precedent: a blade not sharp, a horse too thin—what will you duel me with? Win the duel, and you can immediately inherit the throne.

But speaking to the common people, it was still recommended to duel in the arena, because judging whether it was a duel elsewhere was troublesome. Even if you won, if you didn't record it with the notary office and had incomplete documents and lack of witnesses, you could still likely end up jailed in a bitter place.

In the arena, it was very simple: once you stepped onto the stage and into the arena, a duel was the default assumption; life and death were of no concern, and the laws inside and outside the arena were completely different.

Galen didn't know why Liszt was so anxious.

He left the inn in a hurry, skipping lunch, and headed straight for the local Imperial Arena in Chenxi Port.

In big cities, the arenas were divided into several districts. In Chenxi Port, there were a total of six huge circular buildings, and the seating for spectators was amphitheater-style.

There were significant differences compared to the coliseums of Ancient Rome.

After all, the science and technology tree of the Western Continent was quite skewed; these buildings had steel framework and glass domes on top that sealed them off, ensuring rain didn't disrupt the events and that there was plenty of illumination.

Betting enthusiasts had already begun their festivities by the time of the preliminary selections; spectator seating was also tiered. There was no need to worry about not selling tickets, with seats in the upper and lower tiers fairly cheap—a mere one to three silver coins.

Mid-tier seating, however, had independent viewing boxes. Aside from one side facing the arena, the other three sides were enclosed; it was relatively quiet, separated from the mixed quality of the folks outside. The price was a bit higher for those seats.

But there were no special services, no food and drink; it was purely a better view without preferential treatment.

If you wanted cigarettes or alcohol, you'd only be able to purchase them from licensed vendors within the arena.

But that was only for the initial selections. For the Imperial City finals, you couldn't get a ticket if you didn't have some connections. Even the worst seats required scalpers by then.

The sun was scorching, and heat waves were all around.

On the main road outside the arena complex, it was packed with people. Due to the limitations of the era, there were no restrictions on street vendors, who damn near burst the street selling snacks and drinks.

However, the local city hall was savvy; during this quarter, the road outside the arena was closed off to vehicles, allowing only pedestrian traffic. Even officials from the Royal Court had to walk there.

Don't expect the ones who came to watch the barbarians slaughter each other to be reputable sorts; the stink of sweat and grime could be smelled from over a hundred meters away, with shoulders rubbing against each other.

It was a mix of fish and dragons, all kinds of races, and the place was crammed with foreigners. During the time of the Continent Martial Arts Competition, it was truly a cultural melting pot.

Liszt was somewhat enlightened. Besides the folks from Ox and Dead Man Bay, it was rare to see Merfolk; Mirror Sea was far from Heaven Port, let alone this area. Yet the competition managed to draw quite a crowd of them, banded together.

It was truly like the World Cup.

Liszt had inquired that the Golden-eyed man and the Masked man from yesterday were competing in the Third District. The Golden-eyed man was named Kun Lan, while the Masked man was shrouded in mystery; his name was not reported, and he was known only as a former Executioner at Forgotten Port under the Cross Alliance, which was quite an ominous profession.

The audience liked to call him "Rag Head," and many became his fervent fans, vowing to keep betting on him until his demise.

Of course, the odds for popular competitors were not high, to win back one silver coin on ten silver bet was already good.

If it was a match between popular competitors, you could only say that winning meant double the celebration at the club, and losing meant sorrowful serenades on the rooftop.

There were numerous matches for these two, with several rounds in each phase. There were matches this afternoon as well, and Liszt had arrived just in time.

Liszt had one virtue: he hated queuing.

The crowd was bustling ahead; other people had finished up and were still queuing, but this wasn't the East Sea, and Liszt couldn't just violently cut in line.

He had to resort to using silver, an object more effective than fists.

At the cost of twenty silver coins, he exchanged places with a few of the major deities and got to the very front of the line.

"I'm sorry... Tickets for the Third District are all sold out, it's overcrowded; you can try other districts, it's all the same."

The ticket-selling girl, almost a half civil servant with decent features, calmly informed Liszt, because the Third District was quite popular, with more masters than the other five districts, extremely sought after.

This was the Continent Martial Arts Competition, just the unpublicized preliminary selection, not to mention Aran had so many cities, all selecting.

By the time of the Stargazing Festival finals, there would even be a damn opening ceremony and gala.

Taylor Swift from the Western Continent, the phenomenon-level Minstrel Qili, would also grace the stage with her voice.

Upon hearing this, Liszt, who already had some stress reaction, grew even colder. If it weren't for the need to find that person and verify the truth, he had no interest in this damned tournament at all.

"Isn't there any other way? I'm willing to pay a high price."

The money on Liszt might be enough for show-off, but he wasn't really sure if he could finish up with Sharon and then leave.

The ticket-selling girl sized up Liszt, his face covered, but his clothes were all cheap stuff; it wasn't her being snobbish, she just didn't believe he could afford it.

"There are private viewing booths, for thirty people, but they cost fifty silver coins," she said.

Fifty silver coins was quite an exaggerated figure, roughly equivalent to half a month's income for a High Order Clergy of the Eternal Sect.

The private viewing booths weren't even intended for just one or a few people; the smallest were for twenty people. How big did one's face have to be to get an ultimate VIP during a national frenzy?

Of course, that man was the exception during the Imperial City finals.

Liszt glanced at the people following him; apart from Galen, there were a few of his lackeys.

"Four people."

Liszt directly took out a Golden Dragon and placed it on the window.

Ten minutes later.

Arriving at the Third District, entering the circular building's amphitheater-style seats, the first thing that caught his eye was the arena below.

It was about the size of five soccer fields, more than three hectares, with varied terrain and an array of weapon racks.

The arena was about comprehensive strength; you entered unarmed, with no early advantage, and picked up weapons inside, totally fair.

Of course, there were some fellows who didn't need weapons, able to tear their opponents apart barehanded.

One had to wait until two in the afternoon for the first round of the preliminary matches to begin. After yesterday's rumors, the Third District was far more popular than others, with not a single empty seat.

There were those who had gotten a license, holding trays with tobacco and alcohol, with strings around their necks; people like that were mostly relatives of some civil servant, working a summer job.

The noise was unbearable up on the circular steps; Liszt had no mood for anything else and found the expensive, thirty-person private viewing booth on the middle tier.

He realized he had been royally screwed.

It was just a damn square stone shelter, like a garage, only without a roller door, and the soundproofing was barely better, with just a bit more space. Thirty people could sit and move without crowding, unlike other places where you could hardly stretch your legs.

Damn it.

Liszt and Galen's gang settled down in a corner, waiting for the match to start, and the so-called... "Rag Head" to appear.

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