Master of the Arena

Just like the choices Li Ang had made in the game, his current body belonged to the son of a fallen knight order member.

He had a good childhood, receiving strict guidance from his father. But good times didn't last. Before he came of age, his parents began leaving home for extended periods, their whereabouts unknown.

Thus, the boy gradually fell into a life on the streets, surviving by theft, tailing people, gathering intelligence, or taking on less-than-legal jobs.

To survive, he became close with the Crimson Brotherhood.

But shortly after he came of age, his parents were murdered. The killer remained unknown, but all he knew was that he was now a wanted man by the lord.

And his former "brothers" in the Crimson Brotherhood seemed intent on killing him as well.

He had no choice but to leave Barkley and cross the sea to Pendor.

However, as soon as he disembarked, he was ambushed by Pendor's Crimson Brotherhood, suggesting that the underworld in Pendor was also targeting him.

He barely managed to escape into the arena, already on his last legs. Just as he was about to kick the bucket, Li Ang, a soul from another world, took over this unlucky fellow's life.

Along with him came the Mount & Blade System—or rather, half of it.

As a result, the severely injured Li Ang miraculously recovered within days, and his combat skills began to improve at an astonishing rate.

This was because, in the arena, Li Ang discovered that, just like in the game, proficiency could be continuously practiced using straw dummies and targets.

In fact, after each day's chopping and slashing practice, he could directly see the changes in his body.

His muscles became more supple, his features sharper, and his once-thin face gradually hardened, becoming more masculine.

Since this body was constantly being hunted, Li Ang decided to level up in the arena, accumulate enough proficiency, and gather some equipment before venturing out.

After all, the Crimson Brotherhood was everywhere, and Li Ang felt that his current situation was akin to permadeath with full damage enabled and no saves...

In Pendor, a difficulty setting with 149% full damage like this made going out alone impossible, let alone being hunted.

Besides, games were games; you couldn't die in them... Reality was far crueler than any game...

It was safer to lay low.

Fortunately, with constant practice, his proficiency increased very quickly. Although this Mount & Blade system was only half—he couldn't see basic stats like Strength or Intelligence, and could only allocate points to a limited number of personal skills.

However, he could still accumulate usable skill points through training, and Li Ang had put them all into Iron Bones and Strong Strike.

7 Strong Strike, 7 Iron Bones, and rapidly growing proficiency allowed him to frequently throw matches to earn extra cash and acquire some defensive gear.

It also earned him some notoriety within the arena—known only to those inside, earning him the reputation of "Master of the Arena."

Whether it was the monthly arena tournaments or the daily True Sword Combat, he never aimed for first place, only for making money.

The championship prize money wasn't significantly higher than what he could earn from throwing matches, and becoming a champion made him too noticeable—which wasn't a good thing for someone on the run.

However, after half a year, Li Ang had accumulated enough equipment and was planning to leave Mistveil City. Mistveil City was too chaotic; Fieltzwe was a nation built by pirates, smugglers, and slave traders, a paradise for the Crimson Brotherhood.

With the joint arena tournament between the two kingdoms, the Crimson Brotherhood's thugs were temporarily expelled, presenting a perfect opportunity to make a quick profit and leave.

Li Ang also wanted the Pioneer Baron certificate, but after living in this land for half a year, he understood that even if he obtained it, he wouldn't be able to keep it and it would only attract more enemies.

Unless he had a sufficiently strong force at his disposal.

In any era, in any place, truth and morality only existed at the end of a gun.

In the arena, the horns blared.

The crimson Lionheart flag and the green Giant Bear flag were raised together as eight contestants entered.

The first match began.

This match was divided into four teams of two, each wearing different colored armor.

The winning team would advance to the semifinals, where they would fight each other, and the victor would proceed to the finals.

The other eight participants in the second match would determine the other finalist through a similar process.

This tournament format was clearly designed to accommodate certain wealthy patrons who had paid for it.

Li Ang's teammate was, of course, Foucher.

As this was a joint event with the Lionheart Kingdom, the tournament utilized lances, a weapon favored by the nobles of the Lionheart Kingdom.

All participants were equipped identically: ordinary horses provided by the arena, standard lances, and short axes, which were the preferred weapons of the Lionheart Kingdom and the Fieltzwe people, respectively.

And also Li Ang's preferred weapons.

But as Li Ang entered the arena, holding his lance, his expression was blank, veins throbbing on his forehead.

Because Foucher... before entering, he had tested the weight of the lance and attempted a thrust, nearly throwing out his back. He had no choice but to switch to a shield axe.

Seeing this, Li Ang let out a deep sigh and secretly curled his lips. This wooden, tournament-specific lance weighed only five kilograms; most people could handle it...

Clearly, Foucher did not belong to the 'most people.' Compared to the robust and strong Li Ang, this young master appeared weak and frail. The pale, flabby fat on his body didn't grant him much strength; he seemed to struggle even to lift the shield with one hand.

He was energetic, though, and intended to charge at his opponents as soon as he saw them.

Li Ang suppressed the urge to curse. Judging by Foucher's wobbly posture on the horse, he would likely be instantly killed with a single blow if he actually charged.

Yet, this fellow had no idea of his own limitations.

Although wooden lances were used in this match, danger still existed. In fact, people died frequently in the arena, especially during lance competitions.

After all, there was a well-known saying in Pendor—"Beneath the lance, all are equal..."

There were only two ways to be eliminated from the arena matches: either drop your weapon and surrender, or be beaten until you lost the ability to fight.

And this illegitimate son didn't seem like the type of smart person who would rationally surrender.

I asked for too little, this is much harder than I imagined...

So Li Ang leveled his lance, blocking Foucher. "Don't move yet, let them fight first!"

As he spoke, he even pulled Foucher's horse back a few steps, intending to avoid the sight of the opposing groups of opponents.

Foucher was somewhat displeased, his hoarse voice squawking, "Are you scared, you bastard! Are you actually scared!"

Li Ang almost didn't stab the ungrateful fellow with the spear in his hand, but he held back his anger for the dinar. "We need some tactics, Lord Foucher! True masters win matches with wisdom... only wild boars charge at anyone they see."

Foucher also stopped. He probably felt that he shouldn't be a wild boar. He looked at the other side and asked Li Ang, "So, what's your tactic?"

"The tactic is... you go hide under the Lionheart banner first, and I'll charge in and take out one or two..." Li Ang stared intently at the opposite side of the arena, only to find that the other contestants had already begun to fight. Tactics naturally changed with the battlefield's fleeting moments, and now was the time to charge.

Foucher rolled his eyes at Li Ang. "Alright, Lord Wild Boar, I'll watch your performance..."

Foucher was blocked for this while, and his bloodlust had probably cooled down. Muttering some uncouth words under his breath, he moved to the red and gold lion banner at the edge of the arena on his own.

Riding his horse, just about as tall as the banner, Foucher, clad in red armor with a golden mane and beard, instantly had a camouflage effect. If you didn't look closely, you'd barely notice him.

That's right, if the employer doesn't mess up, I can earn money with peace of mind.

Li Ang circled back. Once his horse picked up speed, he raised his lance and charged towards the battlefield filled with shouts.

The whistling wind brushed past his ears. Li Ang had already crossed half the field. One of the combatants noticed him and raised his shield to meet him.

The opponent's speed wasn't enough, but his lance had a noticeable backward pull, looking like he intended to meet the charge head-on and test their accuracy.

But Li Ang didn't intend to risk his life. He veered his horse slightly, dodged the man, and thrust his leveled lance directly into the crowd of combatants.

His true target was currently with his back to him.

"Thump..."

After a terrible muffled thud, an unlucky fellow was sent flying off his horse and landed on the ground, unconscious.

The lance charge hit him directly in the back. This guy was clearly out of the match.

The entire audience erupted in cheers. The noble lords loved these violent spectacles the most.