No More Fighting

No More Fighting

Zhang Heng did not know when the two gladiators sharing his room had woken up. In any case, they were already gone when he returned. They did not come back, arms slung over each other's shoulders, until night had fully fallen, reeking of alcohol.

Their choice was not hard to understand. Although slave gladiators like Sisnatas and Garba were constantly winning their freedom from the Gladiator School, those who truly gained freedom remained a tiny minority among the slave gladiators. Most still died in the arena.

Though gladiator mortality had noticeably fallen compared to before the Common Era, their average life expectancy of twenty-five still said a great deal. If they did not enjoy themselves in time, they might not have the chance tomorrow. Besides, they were only celebrating for this one day.

A while later, Valo also returned from the training grounds. After chatting briefly with Zhang Heng, they each went to bed.

Late at night, the entire city of Rome quieted down from its earlier clamor.

Aside from the occasional domus and temple still lit by oil lamps, most places had sunk into darkness.

Zhang Heng closed his eyes as well and soon drifted into sleep. Then someone nudged him. He opened his eyes and saw the Persian Old Trainer's face. The latter stood beside his bed and gestured for him to come outside and talk, then left the room first. Zhang Heng put on his sandals and followed the Old Trainer past the three people still sleeping in the room, arriving in the courtyard outside.

At least for now, it seemed the story the man had told earlier had not been fabricated.

Zhang Heng had gone through so many instances, including quite a few fraught with danger, that he had developed the habit