Chapter 38: Journey to the Empire, Section 3

A Challenge!?
Has this guy lost his mind?
The dark-haired man’s gaze shifted slightly as he examined the burly man before him more carefully.
This was the castle of the Grand Duke of Taro, and the man before him was undoubtedly just a guest. Yet, as a guest, he dared to issue such an unreserved challenge—proving just how domineering he was. But he himself was merely a newcomer to the empire. Such reckless defiance seemed like bullying the weak.
His gaze moved, and the dark-haired man subtly glanced at the Grand Duke of Taro. To his surprise, the old man didn’t show any displeasure; instead, he seemed somewhat eager. Perhaps noticing the glance, the old man gave a subtle nod at that moment.
Was he using this burly man to assess his own combat strength? Thoughts raced through the dark-haired man’s mind, and he quickly understood the Grand Duke’s intention.
To put it plainly, no matter how highly he was regarded, he was nothing but a tool. In the eyes of nobles like the Grand Duke of Taro, what mattered wasn’t how precious the tool was, but whether it was useful. If he couldn’t prove his worth, difficulties would surely arise like mushrooms after rain during the journey ahead.
Well then… The dark-haired man smirked, revealing a set of snow-white teeth.
I’ll show you then.
“Hmm…” Frowning slightly, the dark-haired man pretended to struggle as he glanced at Siget. He said softly, “What kind of sparring? Self-driving armor?”
Just like humans fighting with magic mechs, the Moor Empire also had similar equipment. At the previous Seven-Six Three-Star Station, the dark-haired man had already seen those terrifying war machines that could function without a pilot. But later, he learned that such self-driving armor wasn’t originally designed this way—it was, like mechs, a type of controlled warfare device. It just had higher specifications and greater power.
The Moor Empire possessed the strongest energy technology in this realm, so researching engine cores wasn’t a problem. Unlike magic mechs, it wasn’t plagued by power source issues. Thus, in terms of mechanical power, this kind of self-driving armor was far stronger than the human Moor mechs.
Hearing Siget’s challenge, the dark-haired man naturally assumed the other party might choose such a weapon.
However, Siget’s reply surprised him.

“No, no, no. Dear Lord Beck. Leave those little self-propelled armor gadgets to the control core. What era is this? The Empire has long abandoned such things. How about a fight between men? That’s the most exciting spectacle. Ha, lately the Empire has been embracing retro trends. Many noble girls are eager to see the best fighters. Lord Beck, if you can stand out in combat, I guarantee countless girls will be willing to enter your room in the middle of the night.”

The bald man laughed heartily and casually stretched out his hand.

Noble girls from the Moore Empire entering my room in the middle of the night? Damn it, are you trying to give me nightmares? The dark-haired man muttered, but still stood up. Ignoring Siget’s large hand, he bowed respectfully to the Grand Duke.

“Your Excellency, I accept this challenge. Please arrange it for me.”

“Good, very good…” The Grand Duke laughed heartily and clapped his hands. A few servants immediately entered the room. “Go, prepare the arena. Even I’ll go and watch as an audience member today. Everyone here, let’s go together.”

“As you wish, Your Excellency. It’s an honor for us,” said the blond youth and the assassin girl, quickly standing up and giving a proper bow to the Grand Duke. Miss Veri, who had remained silent, also stood up, casting a complex glance at the Grand Duke.

“Oh, my dear daughter. You don’t need to be so nervous. It’s just a fight between men. I’ll take care of it. By the way, Siget, you won’t hurt my Beck, will you?” the Grand Duke said jokingly.

“Well…” The bald man scratched his shiny bald head, looking troubled. In his opinion, a manly fight should be intense and fierce, not some feeble display of skill. Holding back in such a situation was only possible if one was twice as strong as the opponent. But the problem was Beck was new to the Empire, and he didn’t know the other person’s strength. How could he be sure?

The dark-haired man seemed to understand his dilemma and gently shook his head. “Your Excellency, battles are full of uncertainties. No one can be sure of anything. It’s just a competition; I believe nothing serious will happen.”

“Mm-hm, that’s good, that’s good,” the Grand Duke replied carelessly, leading the way out of the room without even glancing at his daughter. He knew full well that his actions were playing with fire.

It’s necessary to test Beck’s abilities, but Beck is currently a popular figure in the eyes of many forces. Offending him and provoking his betrayal would be too costly. The Grand Duke certainly understood his daughter’s intentions, but he had no other choice. After all, Sigart wasn’t an ordinary man—he was the leader of the empire’s largest private fleet. Moreover, behind him stood someone even the Grand Duke of Tarot couldn’t afford to offend. How could he simply refuse such a request? Beck must have realized this as well.
“You’re still too immature,” the Grand Duke thought to himself with a sigh, then followed his servants toward the arena.
The arena was a magnificent structure, of utmost importance within the castle. According to the ancient traditions of the Moorian Empire, an arena was essential in every grand duke’s castle. And it was never empty—warriors on rest, fallen nobles, and even passing merchants were all willing to expend their energy there. This was the spirit of martialism, the reason the empire had thrived for ten thousand years. It wasn’t virtue that sustained it, but an unyielding passion for battle. Every man in the empire, even the most corrupt nobles, possessed fighting skills. Their conduct might not be impeccable, but on the battlefield, they were the most competent soldiers.
By the time they arrived at the arena, it was already packed. Within this giant structure, thousands of meters tall, the fighting area spanned ten square kilometers—visible to the naked eye. Several figures, large and small, were fighting inside, blood spilling freely. Extreme noise filled the air.
Such a lively scene clearly didn’t match their status, but Blackhair noticed no one reacting strangely. Moreover, their guards had no intention of dispersing the crowd. The group quietly made their way through the frenzied crowd and soon found a suitable seat.
“According to imperial law, the arena is the only place where class differences don’t matter. Here, whether you’re an emperor or a commoner, you’re treated equally. As long as you have the ability and the desire, you can challenge anyone you deem inferior. If they refuse, they must pay the price,” Veri explained softly beside Blackhair, seeing his confusion.
“Oh? Anyone? Does that mean I can challenge anyone weaker than me and wait for them to refuse so I can get them to pay?” Blackhair was stunned and immediately spotted a loophole in the rules.

“That’s absolutely impossible. Once the act of deliberately challenging the weak is exposed, the challenger will be tied to that spot.” Veli stretched out a finger as dry as a twig and pointed toward the center of the arena. Hei Ba saw that it was a huge copper pillar, with raging flames burning beneath it.
“Scorched alive?” Hei Ba narrowed his eyes slightly, immediately recalling a famous torture method from ancient Huaguo.
“Those who violate the rules will be tied to the copper pillar and burned by the flames. If they can survive three days and nights without dying, they will be pardoned—until they make another mistake.” Miss Veli spoke calmly, as if discussing something unimportant. “That’s why few people break the rules in the arena.”
“I see. No wonder.” Hei Ba was relieved. This was clearly the best way to maintain order. Though using torture as a deterrent wasn’t humane, it was very effective. After all, for many creatures, destroying their bodies was far worse than forcing them to remember. No one would want to experience scorched alive.
Of course, creatures immune to fire were an exception, but Hei Ba believed the arena must have corresponding methods to deal with such beings.
The Moors were undoubtedly highly efficient at work. By now, the hardworking servants had completed the Grand Duke’s orders. The groups that had been fighting in the arena earlier were driven away, leaving a huge open space. The Grand Duke stood up and clapped his hands.
“Alright, everyone. Now let Lord Beck and Lord Siget perform for us. To clear the area, I’ve explained to the locals that it’s a thrilling duel. Only then would they be willing to vacate the space temporarily. I suppose you two won’t let this old man lose face, right?”
“Your wish is my command.” Hei Ba bowed respectfully, behaving exactly as a subordinate should. The bald man across from him also stood up, grinning and revealing his snow-white teeth.
“Grand Duke, thank you for your tolerance. I’m willing to add another golden star to your arena!”
“Oh? Then thank you very much. Since my arena was established, it has only earned three golden stars. If you can help me add another, we’ll have four. Siget, you really think of me, this old man.”

Duke Tarot was extremely happy. According to the empire’s rules, only a duel so outstanding that it pleased all the spectators allowed a golden star to be added to the arena. And five golden stars were required to earn a golden flower. The number of golden flowers directly determined the arena’s rank and appeal. Many famous battles could only take place in arenas of the appropriate rank.
However, Siget was a master fighter, so such a claim was understandable. But could Beck do the same? To reach the level of golden stars, the duel needed to be far more than just impressive.
Duke Tarot turned his gaze to his subordinate, only to find that, at some point, the subordinate had taken off his loose merchant robes and replaced them with black tight-fitting clothes…