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A man quickly got down from the passenger seat of the car. He opened the door at the back and opened an umbrella. At this moment, an old man got out of the car. The short silver strands stood erect, and Fang Zheng's face was solemn. The beard on his chin, after being carefully trimmed, added a bit of dignity to him. His eyes were sharp, and his lips were tightly pursed, giving off the feeling that he didn't want to talk or laugh.
Although he was over sixty years old, his back was still straight. Coupled with his still strong physique, he looked at least ten years younger.
"Master, this way." The butler holding the umbrella said softly.
The silver-haired old man nodded and walked quietly into the building with the butler. In the lobby of the building, a fat man greeted him and rubbed his hands, "Welcome, Mr. Horn. I didn't expect you to participate in this betting event. What a surprise. "
"Alstair, if you don't lose weight, your small cardiovascular system will explode." The old man, Horn, said indifferently.
Fatty Alstair took out a handkerchief and wiped his sweat. "I'm just a nobody. I'm tired every day. I don't have time to take care of my body. Mr. Horn, this way, please. The event is about to begin. "
Alstair, who looked like a sales manager, led Horn and his butler to a private elevator. Although his appearance was unremarkable, this man was the chairman of the Death Arena Organizing Committee. He was also the host of every Death Arena for the past ten years. At the same time, he also held the position of Secretary of Finance of the Federation. For such a person, there weren't many guests he needed to personally greet.
Really not much.
The private elevator went straight to the top floor. When the elevator door opened, it was not a multi-functional training hall, but a 600-square-meter banquet hall. In terms of the specifications of the banquet hall, the area here was not the largest, but the decorations were first-class. From the statue of David at the entrance, to the colorful Persian carpet, from the stained glass of the flaming angel on the dome, to the four Corinthian columns that act as both load-bearing and partitions. The various decorative techniques made the banquet hall have a kind of restrained luxury, completely in line with the current popular aesthetic standards of the nobles.
The butler handed the umbrella to the waiter, and Lord Horn of Alstair came to a relatively quiet corner. At this moment, the so-called betting activity had not yet begun. Under the lamplight of the hall, groups of twos and threes were gathered together, some talking in low voices, some talking loudly. No one noticed that there was another Horn in the hall. It was not until a lady accidentally caught a glimpse of him that she exclaimed, "Isn't that Mr. Horn from Bescot?"
Then, he quickly put on a smile and walked over with the most elegant posture. But before she could get close to Horn, the butler stopped her. "I'm sorry, Madam. My master wishes to be alone in peace. "
An unnatural smile appeared on the woman's face. With some unwillingness, she retreated with some anger. Following that, a few other men wanted to come forward to chat, but they were all stopped by the butler. The people who were able to stand in this banquet hall today were all famous figures in Babylon. Usually, people would try to curry favor with them, and they would rarely be rejected.
However, after being rejected by Horn, they could only smile bitterly and helplessly, not daring to say anything.
In the upper class of Babylon, although they were all called nobles. However, nobles were only a general division. In this circle, there was an even harsher division. Ordinary people rarely knew that above the so-called nobles, there were also the ranks of wealthy families, aristocratic families, and famous clans. All three of them were clans that had been operating for over a hundred years and had a strong background. Only then could they be considered true nobles.
The Bescot Clan was one of the famous clans. Although the famous clans were not as noble as the noble clans, there was already an insurmountable gap between them and ordinary nobles. Moreover, Bescot was no ordinary clan. After all, twenty years ago, this clan was still ranked among the aristocratic families. However, due to a series of unforeseen events and the emergence of another clan, it slipped from the rankings of the aristocratic families into the ranks of the famous clans.
That family was called Alexander!
At this moment, the lights in the banquet hall suddenly dimmed, and then the spotlight focused on the small stage at the front of the hall. Alstair stood on the stage like a TV presenter and coughed softly, "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. "Let's make a long story short. Otherwise, this damn light will make a layer of oil on me. Perhaps, as an old friend said, Alstair should lose weight."
A burst of good-natured chuckles sounded off the stage. After slightly adjusting the atmosphere in the hall with a witty opening remark, Alstair said, "As you can see, the death arena has begun, and the participating youths have also undergone two weeks of examination." For all of you, their current ranking should be of some value. So, as usual, I guess the betting event will be held today. Please enjoy the grand carnival that happens once every two years. "
Alstair snapped his fingers and the curtain on the stage behind him opened, revealing a big screen. The first thing on the screen was the last ranked youth. Alstair smiled and stepped down. The other hosts were responsible for briefly introducing the youths to the nobles in the hall, so that they could better understand the targets they were interested in betting on.
Guessing and betting was one of the entertainment programs attached to the death arena. It was open to the residents of the entire Babylonian floating island. To put it bluntly, it was a national gambling event. The behind-the-scenes dealer was, of course, the Federation Government. It would further stimulate people's enthusiasm and play an interactive role. Of course, the participating youths could also benefit from it.
Every supported teenager will be able to draw a 1% dividend from the total bet. Their dividends will be released in the form of supplies to help them obtain more favorable conditions in the competition. It could be said that the guessing activity was one of the main reasons why Babylonian residents were so enthusiastic about the death arena. It was also an important source of revenue for the Federation Government.
Alstair walked to Horn's side. He was probably the only person in the banquet hall who was qualified to sit near Horn. Alstair called for the waiter and asked them to serve the wine. After drinking a cup of wine with Horn, he said, "Looks like there's a target that Mr. Horn likes in this year's little fellows?"
Horn smiled and nodded. Alstair couldn't help but say, "I wonder which kid Mr. Horn has taken a fancy to?"
"You'll know later." Horn cherished his words like gold, and after saying that, he shut his mouth.
At this time, the host on the stage had already briefly explained the information of the 21 youths and then announced that they were accepting bets. Just as the others were calculating the amount of investment and the corresponding returns, Horn glanced at the butler indifferently. The butler immediately understood and raised his hand and whispered, "We'll give Allen a ton of high-grade platinum."
Altes's expression stiffened. Then, he shook his head and said, "So Mr. Horn is interested in Allen. He's not bad, but don't forget that he's ranked first now. This position isn't very advantageous. "
Altes was telling the truth. The benefits of being ranked first in the death arena were mixed. The advantage was that he would receive a lot of material support in order to maximize his strength before the competition. The disadvantages were also obvious. Apart from becoming the target of public criticism, the top three youths would announce their coordinates to the other youths at the beginning of the game.
In previous years' death arenas, there was no lack of precedents for the first place being killed by a group of people as soon as they entered the arena.
Generally speaking, it would be safer to invest money in second or third place. However, the odds for the top three were not high. If they wanted to make a lot of money, sometimes the dark horses at the bottom of the rankings would have surprises.
Horn said calmly, "I have confidence in him."
Alstair nodded to the host, and under Allen's profile, there was suddenly an injection of 10 million Federation dollars, which was equivalent to the market price of a ton of platinum. This number will be distributed to the entire Babylonian government trust platform in real time, and all bettors can immediately see the changes in the investments of all the youths.
Bescot's generosity shocked the other nobles in the banquet hall. After all, 10 million Federation dollars was not a small sum. Suddenly, applause rang out. Everyone looked back and a few people filed in from outside the door. Walking in front was a middle-aged man. His brown hair was fixed with wax and combed behind his head. Every strand of hair seemed to have been carefully calculated, showing meticulous quality. Words.
His sea-blue eyes were filled with smiles, but if one looked deeper, they would find that the depths of this person's eyes were actually a blue ocean of ice. The suit made by a famous craftsman was well-tailored, and the workmanship from the collar to the cuffs could withstand the most critical examination. A black and white striped tie, while playing a decorative role, also further emphasized the owner's efficient and practical temperament.
Alstair smiled bitterly when he saw this man. This man was Horn's sworn enemy, the patriarch of the Alexandrian Clan, Maine.
Maine said from afar, "Mr. Horn really has a big hand. He took out a ton of platinum." If others didn't know, they would have thought that Bescot was rich and imposing. But according to the latest annual report, Bescot's revenue in all aspects has decreased by 30% compared with the same period last year. Mr. Horn, don't tell me that this ton of platinum is your trump card? "
Horn remained calm and said indifferently, "No matter how bad Bescot is, he is not some self-complacent nouveau riche who has a little luck."
Maine sat down directly at the table between Horn's seats. This was actually a very rude behavior, but he sat there as if it were a matter of course. Considering that the Alexandrian Clan had jumped from the bottom of the aristocratic clan to the upstart of the aristocratic clan in just twenty years, no one dared to accuse Maine of anything wrong. This was because the family had an inseparable relationship with Maine, who had taken over the burden of the Patriarch back then.
"The Alexandrian Clan naturally can't compare to Mr. Horn's family background, but they can still take out a little money." Maine smiled as he looked at the big screen and swept his gaze across the portraits of the youths. Finally, he said, "I think that kid Ans is quite pleasing to the eye. Give me two tons of platinum."
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