Warriors will die if they charge.

The defeated noble youth remained calm, raising his hand to stop the burly man beside him from rushing forward.

Eyes as green as a lake coldly watch the red claws pecking at the crown's eyeballs.

"Kuran, I thought the men of Riverside Town were all honest men, but your actions are very disappointing. It was Stowe who had the opportunity to tamper with the potion I fed to the Crown. Even your highly respected Dr. Pedro was an accomplice in this dirty conspiracy."

The young master's cold voice could not hide his anger. He stood up, leaning on the handrail, and looked around the stands. His gaze swept over the faces of the gamblers who had lost money, and they were filled with anger and dissatisfaction.

The only exception was Marcus, who took money from Nelson; his ugly face, with its mouth stretched to his ears, was truly pathetic.

"You tamed the Crown into a helpless wooden chicken, and then you lost and accused my Red Claw of cheating. Owen, Riverside Town doesn't have your beautiful, clean stone palace. Making baseless accusations will have consequences..." Kuran walked into the arena, picked up Red Claw, and glared at the burly guard with a fierce look on his face:

"Don't try to act tough. I could twist your head off with one hand, you idiot."

Young Owen waved behind him, and a man in brown leather armor entered the arena, squatted down beside the crowned corpse, skillfully plucked the messy feathers from the neck, drew a short knife, and plunged it into the throat.

He pulled the knife along the throat without touching a single bone, easily disemboweling the entire fighting rooster. His skill was astonishing; one wondered just how many rooster carcasses he had dissected.

The man reached into the chicken's belly with his left hand, and with a light slit of his short blade, pulled out a complete stomach pouch still attached to the severed intestines. He tossed it aside and found nothing inside.

He picked up the stomach bag, still covered in thick yellow fecal matter, and sniffed it: "No problem, the smell is normal."

Irving remained silent for a long time, squinting as he weighed the pros and cons of backing down.

His family had business dealings with a timber merchant in town, and he received a considerable sum of money from his father. He should have expanded the import of timber, but the money was so little that after paying off the gambling debts he had incurred while studying in Silver Mountain City, he was left with only a small bag of loose gold coins.

Cockfighting, a popular activity in Linhe Town, is not only a topic of conversation among the descendants of miners, but also a way to get off to a good start in business. Whenever Wang Guan is mentioned, those bastards whose minds are only filled with alcohol and coca leaves will give him a thumbs up.

He made a lot of money from cockfighting and hopes to finish the task his father entrusted to him before the end of the year. He is now only a tiny bit short of his goal.

The crown, which we painstakingly nurtured, is dead. With no way to quickly fill the funding gap, he will definitely be reprimanded when he returns to the family.

But it doesn't matter, before leaving, just pass the mess to the next person.

It could be his witty younger brother Robin, or the bitch Esther who always pretends to be a good girl in front of their father, but Owen has already made his choice.

Owen stepped into the arena, his fine deerskin boots crunching on the dry gravel: "According to the laws of the Griffin Kingdom, commoners who offend nobles should have their tongues pulled out as punishment..."

Kuran stared expressionlessly at Owen, who was rambling on about the law. The law of Riverside Town was like cockfighting, and this little bastard was disrespectfully tearing open the crown. He wouldn't mind pulling out the tongue of this young master who came from the north to do business.

Irving's gaze shifted to Marcus, the gambling addict in the stands who had just finished counting his money.

This gambling addict, who yelled the loudest during the game, left a deep impression on Irving.

"Lambert, pull this man's tongue out. We must remind the Kuran militia that Riverside Town belongs to the Griffin Kingdom and is Baron Moraka's territory!"

"Yes." The burly warrior, with the crisp sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath ringing out, raised his longsword to his chest and charged towards Marcus in the stands without a word.

At the same time, a golden halo flashed in Owen's palm, and a shadow resembling a chain snake snaked through the air, flying towards Kuran.

The tamer blew a whistle, and the giant wolf, which had been lying dozing outside the arena, opened its eyes. When it stood up, its shadow was as strong as a bull, and foul-smelling saliva dripped from its teeth. It leaped up and bit the corpse of the crown that the tamer had thrown in mid-air. After chewing it a few times and swallowing it, its eerie green eyes fixed on Kuran, who was holding a fighting rooster.

At that moment, Marcus was exchanging his winnings for silver and copper coins for everyday use when he saw Nelson pointing behind him and turned around.

The burly, Hulk-like man slammed his feet into the ground, leaping onto the two-meter-high stands. He landed, kicking up layers of dust, his hooves thundering as he charged at Nelson's location like a raging bull, seemingly intent on bulldozing him to death.

"What should I do?" Marcus thought to himself. "This guy is as strong as an ox, with a neck as thick as a thigh. He looks like a warrior."

Should I save him? After all, he charged at Nelson. Perhaps his plan had been exposed, and the young nobleman couldn't swallow his anger and wanted to vent it on the betting odds.

But I don't know which of the thirty-six charge records in the Soldier's Handbook he will die from!

Left with no other option, Marcus had to move a few meters to the left, preparing to judge the moment before rescuing the rashly charging soldier.

But something's not right. Why is he charging this way? Doesn't he know that soldiers die when they charge?

Unarmed, Marcus was forced to defend himself against the charge of the unknown warrior. He watched the burly man charging at him like a bull, his terrifying and ferocious aura reminding him of the colossal creatures he had once faced.

As dusk fell, the figures of the charging soldiers were magnified infinitely, stretching out a silhouette that enveloped the soul. The tables, chairs, and benches on the stands were overturned by the aftershocks of the charge, and the two large lights on the ferocious faces made Marcus feel suffocated for a moment.

He was in dire straits and instinctively looked for any weapon he could use.

found it!

A rotten bench, so light that it wobbles softly when lifted.

This can't even be considered a weapon; it's more like a fragile wooden tool used by the child at his table.

Marcus raised his stool, feeling utterly unsure of himself to meet the charge. As the warrior rushed in and his steel sword swept towards his neck, Marcus raised his meter-long stool and slammed it forward.

The steel longsword was extremely sharp, easily cutting through the dark green, rough moss on the surface of the stool.

Perhaps due to being soaked in rain for too long, coupled with the humid and hot weather in Linhe Town, the men disliked wearing underwear. The oil and sweat secreted from their buttocks seeped through the fabric and into the wood, making the interior extremely sticky and tough, which actually managed to firmly block the warrior's charge.

Marcus keenly caught the moment when the warrior slowed down, gripped the two feet at the ends of the bench, started in a furious slashing stance, twisted his arm, and used brute force to smash the weapon down on the opponent's head.

bang~

Speed ​​bumps and dump trucks, the negative effects of a warrior's charge, the double-layered buffs stacked, and a bench smashed into the face of an unknown man.

With a loud crash, finger-width pieces of soft wood and bone fragments exploded together, and the imposing dump truck's head was smashed open, its two headlights instantly going out.

Wood chips and bone fragments, mixed with some milky white specks, splattered on Marcus's cheeks. The slippery, sticky feeling made him instinctively stick out his tongue and lick it.

It smells fishy and disgusting.

Then, Marcus could only watch as the headless body of the warrior he had just tried to save slumped backward, still clutching the steel sword that symbolized his warrior identity.

This is what happens to soldiers who charge into battle!

The entire venue fell into a deathly silence.

Suddenly, Nelson, the bookmaker, raised two empty wooden trays, sounding the clarion call for those who had lost their bets on the cockfight:

"Bet placed! Bet placed! Young Master Owen from Sean Town, along with his beast tamer slave, is facing off against Kuran and Marcus from Riverside Town! It's a 1-1 tie! A 1-1 tie! It's okay if we lost earlier, we'll win it all back this time!"