I’m a Rebel in Another World

Chapter 50: Gladiator Code

Henwil watched the show for three minutes after dealing with his enemy.

During this time, Mishir pierced both lungs of her opponent with twin swords, while Flying Insect used his chain to strangle his blood-soaked adversary.

Each person, after completing their kill, stood around Henwil.

The last youth beheaded the gladiator whose Achilles tendon had been severed and who knelt on the ground.

He then joined the formation, both hands resting on his greatsword.

This classic anime-style formation—how could the audience not go wild?!

They completely erupted, cheering and applauding for these young killers.

Henwil gave a slight bow, placing his hand over his chest to acknowledge the crowd. The other youths followed suit, though Mishir performed a lady's skirt-lifting curtsy instead.

Elegance! Bloodshed!

This was exactly what the nobles pursued!Perfectly executed!

When the gladiatorial performance concluded completely, Bloodhorn found Henwil and the others.

"Was that all planned by you? Or was it someone's idea?"

All four glanced at Henwil. Bloodhorn walked expressionlessly to stand opposite him: "Kid! From now on, you stick with me, Bloodhorn!

You're just too good at this! You've all become the stars of the gladiatorial arena now!"

By the end, Bloodhorn couldn't help but clap Henwil on the shoulder while grinning widely.

"Boy! No wonder they call you Number One! Can you tell me how you came up with these ideas?"

Henwil said calmly: "Because we were originally born nobles, of course we know what those people truly desire in their hearts!"

Bloodhorn circled Henwil once: "It seems your family is quite prominent! Don't worry, I have no intention of probing into your background."

After speaking, Bloodhorn tapped his cane on the ground, and a guard entered carrying a chest.

Bloodhorn used his cane to flip open the lid, revealing neatly stacked gold coins inside: "Today you made me a huge profit. This includes your prize share.

Do you want to use it to pay off debts? Or keep it for expenses? I'll round it up to a whole number—five hundred gold coins each!"

Henwil asked: "Sir, I'd like to know if the arena sells Knight's Body Tempering Potions?"

"Oh? You want to buy some?"

Henwil nodded. Bloodhorn looked curious: "Can you tell me why? Normally, shouldn't you be saving money to leave this place?"

The other youths also wondered why Henwil would do this.

Henwil said calmly: "For me, the most critical thing isn't leaving—it's surviving to adulthood!

I have some enemies. Right now, with the arena's protection, those people won't come after me.

But if I leave, I'm afraid it would be very difficult to stay alive."

Bloodhorn said approvingly: "Very clever! So many people think this is hell, but if hell can block pursuing enemies, then it's not the worst place, is it?"

The other youths looked thoughtful.

Bloodhorn continued: "Your decision is wise, but you still haven't said why you want to buy Body Tempering Potions instead of saving money."

"Two reasons! First, money comes quickly here, and you have connections, Bloodhorn sir, so I need to convert benefits into personal strength as soon as possible.

Second, the arena doesn't keep idle people. I can't become one who gets eliminated. Only by becoming stronger can I handle increasingly dangerous gladiatorial matches.

The stronger I am, the more money I can make! The more useful I am to you, Bloodhorn sir! The safer I become!"

After a moment of silence, Bloodhorn gently clapped: "Good! Excellent! I should have brought you over sooner!

I agree to your request. I'll give you the Body Tempering Potions at wholesale price—two hundred forty gold coins per bottle!

I hope you can provide sufficient return for my kindness, and I look forward to your growth!"

Henwil bowed in thanks: "Bloodhorn sir, I would like two potions!

My body is special—my absorption of potions is very poor. I need to use four doses to achieve the effect others get from one!"

Bloodhorn didn't doubt this, since many people have average talent: "Very good! Knowing your weaknesses makes you work harder. The potions will be delivered tomorrow morning!"

The other youths also expressed wanting to buy one potion each, enjoying the same wholesale price.

They genuinely needed over a month to absorb a Body Tempering Potion, so buying more would be meaningless.

As they were leaving, Bloodhorn turned back: "Now that you have fame, think of your own code names. Make them impressive!"

The next day, their code names were submitted.

They were: Scorpion Tail, Tarantula, Flying Ant, and White Butterfly—all insects.

As the youths said, they were currently as weak as insects, but still had their lethal aspects.

As for Henwil's code name, they all struggled to understand it.

"Qin! What does this mean? It sounds like the Continental Common Tongue word for 'mercy'!"

Facing Bloodhorn's inquiry, Henwil smiled: "No! It's a slang term from my hometown, a kind of reference to my family. It only has meaning to me!"

A few days later, new gladiatorial matches began.

Henwil's group of five entered the arena again, facing a group of captive soldiers.

The five easily dispatched their dozen-plus opponents, achieving victory cleanly and efficiently.

By now, their masks all had patterns. The others had designs created by the arena's artists.

Henwil had provided his own pattern—it looked like some mysterious runic symbol.

It was actually a character from his previous life's language: the word "Qin" written in small seal script.

After this match, Henwil and the others received several hundred gold coins again.

After buying another Body Tempering Potion, Henwil stopped Bloodhorn: "Sir, if possible, we'd prefer not to participate in the next gladiatorial match!"

Though Bloodhorn maintained a smile, a cold light appeared in his eyes as he asked gently: "Oh? Qin, can you explain why? Are you all too tired?"

Henwil knew the other had developed killing intent—Bloodhorn thought he was getting arrogant from favoritism.

But of course Henwil wasn't that foolish. It was just that during today's match, he realized these captive soldiers had also participated in gladiatorial combat.

Yet these people weren't gladiators under Bloodhorn's command—they were ones Bloodhorn had poached from other arenas.

The purpose was to humiliate other arenas, proving that his arena's performances were more spectacular and his gladiators were the best.

However, this would create a problem: the other side definitely wouldn't let this slide and would certainly seek to regain face.

Those who could operate semi-illegal businesses like gladiatorial arenas obviously had powerful backers.

Cutting off someone's wealth is like killing their parents!

While they might not directly target Bloodhorn, arena matters ultimately had to be settled in the arena.

The other side would certainly make an example of them youths, and they would inevitably face targeted challenges.

But Henwil couldn't say this directly. He could only persuade Bloodhorn from another angle: "Sir, our value lies in our rarity!

As the saying goes, rarity increases value. Only by maintaining mystery and reducing our appearances can we keep the nobles spending large sums to watch us.

Sir, you could have us fight just once or twice a month! Keep those nobles craving more.

Maintain their hunger, prevent them from getting bored with us, keep them full of anticipation—this will better spread the arena's reputation.

Additionally, sir, we're still children. We're fragile. We need time to grow.

Making money through steady, sustained effort will be more lasting in the long run. What do you think?"

Bloodhorn studied Henwil, then suddenly laughed after a moment: "You really are a cunning little brat!"