Star Forge Titan

"This is a trap without any cover." Alvin suddenly interrupted his senior brother.

He looked seriously at Rigor, his master who taught him boxing.

In the Silent Desert, everyone knew that because of the Five Witch Kings joining forces with Half-Step Iron Tax, the Fist of Freedom, as a rebel force, was the force with the most boxers. Even the boxing techniques themselves came from this tenacious resistance organization.

The Second Witch King announced that he would use a boxing match to select his successor. This was undoubtedly a message to the Fists of Freedom. Want to overthrow the Witch King's rule? Come and participate in the match for your chance!

Even though the fighters would inevitably suspect that this was a conspiracy, according to the announcement made public to everyone, the final would be held in the palace square with the Witch King himself in attendance. For the fighters of the Free Fist, it would undoubtedly be an excellent opportunity to assassinate the Witch King.

As to whether there are other calculations hidden behind the event, that is up to your imagination.

Although the whole thing exudes a weird atmosphere, the risks and temptations that are visible to the naked eye have all been laid out in the open.

As a newcomer with limited participation, Alvin can make relatively objective and rational judgments, but he is worried that reckless voices will appear in the Freedom Fist that has been fighting for decades.

"A trap...huh..." Rigor let out a long breath, and his already old and hunched back seemed to bend even more.

"But this is also an opportunity." Brad looked at the two with bright eyes.

Before coming, Brad, who had learned the news, contacted other fighters of the Fist of Freedom. Judging from what his master and junior brother had just said, they were obviously aware of a possibility just like him.

"A fighter who fears death cannot win." At this moment, Brad's chest, which had always risen and fallen rhythmically due to his boxing breathing, became a little rapid.

"A lot of blood will flow." Rigor said tiredly:

"But the blood shed by us fighters today can save children born in the future from shedding more blood!" Brad's voice revealed a firmness as powerful as the clash of swords.

Alvin, who was listening to the conversation between the two, suddenly frowned. It seemed that there was something he didn't know that had a huge impact on the fighters of Freedom Fist, so that they were willing to take huge risks to join the boxing match.

In fact, apart from that unknown factor, the whole thing is very clear.

Most of the Free Fist fighters realized that this boxing match was most likely a trap, but for some reason, they were willing to jump into it even at the huge risk of losing their lives.

According to Brad, even if he failed to successfully assassinate the Witch King, this move would greatly attract the attention of those forces in Ismailia who were loyal to the Second Witch King.

Then, the remaining champions would have the opportunity to accomplish other things, things that might be more important than killing the Witch-King.

That was the grand plan that Freedom Fist had been pursuing for nearly a hundred years.

The desert sky is too oppressive and too harsh on the many creatures that live there.

It's time for a change!

Chapter 53: Storm is rising

The world is full of twists and turns.

Ismailia will decide the strongest boxer in a boxing match, and the winner will become the next Witch King. As soon as this news came out, the entire desert seemed to be poured with a handful of hot iron sand from an ice spring, and it instantly became boiling.

To the many ethnic groups living in the desert, the five witch kings are like gods.

There are even people who truly worship them as gods, as if the entire sky is the incarnation of those five powerful and bloodthirsty tyrants. The long-lasting scorching sun is their majesty, and the occasional cold rain is their mercy. Only by suffering in majesty and praying in mercy can they barely survive like the withered vegetation in the desert.

Therefore, if one could truly become the next Witch King of Ismailia, then for the inhabitants of the desert, it would be no less than becoming the next new god. At the very least, one could be favored by a Witch King as great as a god, which would be an extremely noble existence.

By then, power, money, and sheer strength would all be readily available, so it's not hard to imagine how crazy people would be about this boxing match.

After the last conversation, facing Brad's firm gaze, the Great Elder Rigor did not say anything more. He just sighed and returned to the house alone.

But Brad was determined. Although this burly desert man was humble and courteous before his master and new junior apprentice, he was also a well-known fist fighter throughout the Silent Desert for his "Wrist Blade."

He killed many villains and nobles, and rescued and liberated countless slaves.

In fact, within the Freedom Fist, 'Wrist Blade' Brad is quite popular because of his strong strength and generous and trustworthy style of doing things, and is vaguely regarded as the most suitable successor to the Grand Elder.

In the past few days, Brad spent more and more time away from the courtyard. He kept meeting all kinds of people, including ordinary vendors with sad faces, businessmen in gorgeous clothes, and even dancers in bright and bold clothes.

This made Alvin realize that the partners or helpers of the Freedom Fist were actually scattered across all walks of life. Those people might not all be boxers, but they undoubtedly all agreed with the philosophy of the Freedom Fist. Even if some of them would receive a salary, more people would voluntarily work hard for it and even sacrifice their lives for it.

For a moment, the entire Free Fist Alliance was like a big fish swimming quietly in a deep pool of water. Although it did not cause many ripples on the surface of the lake, it carried countless invisible undercurrents beneath the deep water that was difficult for outsiders to observe.

That morning, when Alvin got up, he saw Brad practicing boxing in the yard.

The air trapped around his fists vibrated, making a sharp sound like the high notes of a wind instrument.

Faintly, one could see sharp curved blades spinning like a whirlwind, wrapped around Brad's clenched fists, as if he was wearing a pair of transparent boxing gloves formed by ripples of water.

Arashi Sand Falcon Fist is a fast boxing technique that controls the fierce wind like a flying bird.

Ivan said silently in his heart, and at the same time used his eyes to record the other party's movements one by one like a video, and replayed, slowed down, and replayed all the scenes in his mind until he gained some enlightenment.

Inadvertently, the black-haired boy raised his hand and waved it lightly, creating a barely detectable white whirlwind that was only the height of his size.

On the other side, Brad finished a whole set of boxing exercises, his chest rising and falling to maintain a unique breathing pattern, until he completely retracted his stance and then sat down on the steps of the courtyard to rest.

"Even if you're busy, you never forget to practice. Such a senior makes us younger generations feel as if we're carrying a huge mountain on our backs." Ivan jokingly said:

At the same time, he placed a clay cup on the steps next to Brad. The iced drink in it quickly formed small drops of water on the cup.

“…” Brad picked up the ceramic cup and gave the younger generation a strange look.

"Did you learn it just now?"

"No, at most I just gained something." Alvin shrugged, squatted on the next step up, and waved his fingers in the air seemingly casually.

As the slender fingertips shook, the surrounding air seemed to be spinning and emitting bursts of low hums like a band guided by a baton.

Seeing this, Brad couldn't help but roll his eyes, but he was not surprised at all.

Ever since becoming Elder Rigor's apprentice, this young man seemed to be mastering every martial art he encountered at an astonishing rate. It was as if he wasn't the one learning the martial arts, but rather the martial arts themselves were gathering towards him like dust swept up by a whirlwind.

No matter whether it was a newly created boxing style or an ancient boxing style that had been passed down for a long time, he absorbed them all like a sponge absorbing water.

Only such an existence can comprehend the true meaning of the Storm Fighting Holy Fist...

Brad couldn't help but sigh deeply in his heart, then took a sip of the drink in the cup.

Then, his eyebrows immediately raised up, and his mind subconsciously recalled the advice his master had given just a few days ago.

"Don't worry, if the master asks, just say it's a healthy and refreshing iced wheat juice drink." Alvin said nonsense seriously.

"Oh, right." The black-haired boy stood up, with the scorching sun rising slowly into the sky behind him.

"Count me in for the boxing match."

what! ?

Brad was stunned for a moment. Before this, he had never thought of letting this junior brother join the plan.

"This is no joke. The people who will attract attention in the plan have already been decided." Brad frowned and said seriously:

"But in this kind of situation, obviously the more people there are, the better they can hold the other side back, right?" Alvin said in a calm tone, as if all he wanted to join was an outing, not a suicide mission with a high probability of no return.

To be fair, although I now possess the awakened blood of the Titan, I am not confident that I can defeat a superior being like the Witch King who has a powerful heritage.

The difference between the latter and ordinary extraordinary people is like the difference between military technology and civilian technology, which cannot be compared.

However, Alvin needed to uncover the secrets hidden within the Witch King's mystical spells, forcing him to closely observe these powerful beings known as the "Witch Kings." Otherwise, his plan to search for the ruins of the Giant Kingdom would be difficult to proceed.

This is like a fire reconnaissance. There are risks, but the rewards may also be unexpectedly rich.

“…” Brad didn’t want to agree to Ivan’s request.

In fact, he himself had signed up for the boxing match. As the one who proposed the plan, how could he stand alone in a safe place and watch his companions rush into the battlefield and bleed to death?

Even if change requires blood, my blood should be shed first!

But the young man in front of him is different. He has a bright future.

Compared to himself, this young man might even inherit the title of 'Fist of the Sky', which is a great power in the legend that can truly bring hope and light to people!

But as a man who had once been young, Brad knew that a simple and rude rejection would hardly convince such young people.

So, after a period of silence, he made a decision.

"Come with me to the arena. Although registration hasn't closed yet, the preliminary selection has already begun."

Brad's thinking was simple: only after witnessing actual blood would the impulsiveness and impulsiveness of a momentary sense of righteousness subside. By then, he'd likely be able to rationally consider the risks involved.

However, Brad will soon realize that people are different after all.

Chapter 54: Interesting Anecdotes of Boxing

For desert city-states, the arena is one of the common public buildings.

In the backward and primitive society, gladiatorial performances became one of the few national entertainment activities. Even the word "gladiator" originally came from the bloody gladiatorial games.

As a public building, the entrance would naturally be guarded by soldiers under the Witch King's command. Unlike ordinary people and adventurers, these guards loyal to the Witch King were not subject to the iron tax system and could equip all kinds of metal weapons and armor without restraint.

But Alvin noticed that in this entire team, it seemed that only the team leader was relatively fully armed. He wore a chain mail shirt covering his upper arms and torso under his robe. Apart from the metal gun tips in his hands, the equipment of the others was not much better than that of ordinary adventurers, and was even somewhat inferior.

The scorching desert sun shone on the metal armor that was exposed between the gaps in the cloth robe, reflecting a light that was somewhat dimmed by rust.

Under normal circumstances, a person armed with a steel knife could easily defeat an unarmed person. This also made most of the soldiers under the Witch King arrogant and rude. They were not friendly to ordinary audiences, even those who bought tickets, and often shouted at them and annoyed them.

But when Alvin followed Brad to the arena, he unexpectedly discovered that the Free Fist fighter next to him had no intention of disguising himself. He was so carefree and led him straight to the arena entrance with a wanted face.

"Captain Mabran, it's your team's turn to be the gatekeeper today." Brad greeted casually.

Upon hearing his voice, the guard who had been so arrogant immediately put away his usual arrogant look that seemed to be looking down on others.

"Hey, isn't this Mr. Brad? It's really rare that a boxing master like you would come to watch the preliminary round." The captain of the guards in charge of the entrance management here was startled, and took the lead to come forward with a smug look on his face, his face full of flattering.

"Take the young people out to see the world, what? Don't you welcome it? You won't even give them a little face?"

At this moment, Brad was not as kind as he usually was in front of his alliance mates. He crossed his arms over his chest and bulged his strong muscles. At the same time, he used his height advantage to look down at the other party with sharp eyes, and his face was full of indifference and impatience.

"Ha, ha ha ha, how could that be? I have to give you face! This way, please go this way, there are still empty seats in the top VIP seats!" The captain of the guards said immediately with a nod and a bow, and at the same time, a lot of cold sweat broke out on his face.

This guy looked like a fat sheep being targeted by a wild beast. Although he was trying to maintain a flattering smile on his face, his whole body was shaking from the corners of his mouth to his calves.

Alvin watched this scene with a strange expression. How could the relationship between the Fist of Freedom and the soldiers under the Witch King be so... harmonious?

Well, while the other party was more afraid of Brad, shouldn't the relationship between the two be like that of cat and mouse? Even if there's a difference in strength between them, shouldn't they show an air of flattery?

Could it be that you are also a user of the Face Fruit?

Feeling the gazes from behind, Brad took the lead and walked into the arena. He didn't raise his hand and touch the back of his head until he had distanced himself from the guards behind him. He put away his cold expression and revealed his usual Big Brother look.

"Well, don't be surprised. The situation in Ismailia is a little different. People here are more accustomed to doing business, and the conflicts with us are not as sharp and direct as those in other city-states." Brad paused, as if looking for a more appropriate word to describe it.

"Oh, they are just pretending to be stupid." Alvin tapped his palm.

"Hey, that's about it." Brad nodded.

"These lowest-ranking soldiers, though they claim to be the Sorcerer King's soldiers, are often simply recruited from the streets by officers of lower-ranking nobles. Aside from some shady income, their monthly salary isn't much higher than that of a Guild of Commerce employee. Therefore, they're often unwilling to fight unless absolutely necessary."

At this point, Brad spread his hands and looked like he knew what was going on.

"So, after being severely punished several times by the Alliance's Fist Fighters, these soldiers usually choose to turn a blind eye and pretend not to recognize us as wanted."

"Over time, both sides have developed a tacit understanding." When he said this, Brad's face showed an uncontrollable weirdness.

"I understand." Alvin nodded.

What's so hard to understand about this?

Isn't this what the Imperial Army, which doesn't even have a formal organization, should look like!?!

Therefore, the feudal rule that still carries the remnants of slavery is really unable to keep up with the times, and even the soldiers under his command are disunited.

But at the same time, this also means that the Witch King himself possesses extremely powerful and overwhelming power. Otherwise, given the backwardness of the system alone, their rule would not have been able to last for hundreds of years.

Furthermore, the Freedom Fists' infiltration of society seemed even more profound than anticipated. They had even significantly influenced the lower echelons of the Witch King's ruling power, to the point where a well-known Fist fighter like Braid didn't even care about revealing his identity to them.

Perhaps even the low-ranking noble officers who nominally managed these squads knew about this, but were simply turning a blind eye to it for similar reasons.

As expected, is it still because of the high-level combat power...

Alvin frowned slightly, thinking about the current situation in the desert.

While they were thinking, the two of them had already arrived at the empty seats, which was an independent box located in the front row of the arena, from which they could clearly see the situation on the circular ring in the middle.

Because it was only the preliminary round, the levels of the contestants were often uneven, so even though the ticket price was almost free, there were still not many spectators in the surrounding stands. The people who came to watch the game were not paying much attention, and there were even more people chatting and bragging to each other than watching the game seriously.

At this moment, the two boxers who had signed up for the competition had already taken their positions. One of them was dressed in a very ordinary short-sleeved, unarmed outfit. The other, with a shaved head, held a large wooden shield in his left hand and an exceptionally long spear with an obsidian tip tied to the end in his right.

"Is he considered a boxer?" Seeing this scene, even Ivan, who was distracted, couldn't help but show a look of astonishment.

"Boxing is free. The rules don't say you can't use weapons, so maybe, this... counts as well?" Brad said uncertainly: Even though he is knowledgeable, his tone is a little hesitant at this moment.

"Iron Body Style, Iron Block - Elok!" Although the boxer in short sleeves and bare hands had a strange expression, he still reported his name seriously.

At the same time, he also completed the core structure of his own boxing technique. Under the flow of magic power, the muscles all over his body swelled slightly, as if he was wearing a suit of muscle armor.