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When the two rusty blades descended from the sky, the burly prisoner lunged forward and seized the one before him. He swung it with a sharp, menacing whoosh that sliced through the air.
Liu Wuxie stepped up to the other blade and gripped its handle firmly. It carried no trace of spiritual energy, merely an ordinary weapon. The edge was dull, able to wound but not kill in a single strike. That was deliberate, as a swift death would ruin the entertainment.
When his eyes met the burly man's, a wave of fighting spirit rippled between them. From the stands, the slaves rose to their feet, cheering and roaring.
The arena opened only once a month, and the spectacle was one of the few entertainments on Anlu Star. Beyond the mines, astral beasts...
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