"Haaha! The Main God of the Eastern Sea bears witness! Afanha, you lost!"
"."
"I'm sparing your life. What should you call me?"
"."
"What? Not convinced? Come, come, I'll give you another chance! Pick up your knife and fight me again!"
"Son of a bitch, Maha Fish! I'll fight you to the death! Rrraah!!"
"Haaha! You lost again! I'll spare you one more life! What should you call me?"
"Maha Fish!"
"Mm? Still not convinced? Again!"
"!! Ah! . Ugh."
"Main God! These Jurchen Tribes in the Forest Sea really are... interesting. How did they fight and fight until they all threw away their weapons and turned it into barehanded wrestling? Is this chieftain's eldest son a little stupid? After he gets knocked down, a few words are enough to rile him into standing up and risking his life again... He hasn't even steadied his breath, and his strength hasn't recovered either. He'll only look worse the more he fights. Still, this fellow's strength really is limited. Compared with Aguda, that man-shaped Jaguar, he's a little too far behind."
Below the mountain stronghold, Zuwaro watched the "warrior's duel" with great interest for a while, originally full of anticipation for a blood-red sacrifice. In the end, the two Jurchen men opposite fought and fought until it became horn-butting and wrestling, hugging and rolling again and again, getting mud all over their bodies without a single glimpse of blood. Only when Maha Aguda had put Afanha down for the sixth time did the stubborn chieftain's son finally run out of strength, bruised black and blue all over, unable to climb back up again. Aguda threw his head back and laughed wildly, standing before the kneeling chieftain's son, his powerful shadow covering the other man as he asked for the seventh time.