The recruit training camp of the Blood Skull Arena was a forging workshop in another sense.
Countless rat people, whose homes had been destroyed and whose hearts were filled with the fire of hatred, went through life-and-death battles in the dark dungeons. They vented the hatred that they should have vented on the warriors of the clans on each other.
After layers of screening, the rat people who could climb up to the surface and join the recruit training camp became the best "steel billets".
They could enjoy ten times more food here than in the dungeon.
They could also apply secret medicine with totem beast ointment.
Not only could it speed up the healing of wounds, but it could also make their bones as hard as steel and their flesh as tough as a shield covered with leather.
After that, they threw themselves into the cruel training day and night.
He repeatedly lifted a stone weight that weighed hundreds of kilograms; he rammed fiercely into an iron wall that was stained with blood; he walked past a red-hot iron chain that was filled with traps filled with sharp blades; he climbed over a fishing net that was full of barbed hooks. If he was not careful, the barbed hooks would pierce into his flesh and he would be wrapped tightly in the fishing net …
Even though these rat people were the strongest after layers of screening.
Many of the rat people were no different from the clan warriors, or even stronger than the clan warriors.
It was just that they were not qualified to have the gorgeous tattoos that represented the clan bloodline and the glorious deeds of their ancestors.
However, the power hidden in the depths of their bone marrow, other than the datura fruit, and the power that they had to devour large amounts of totem beast flesh and blood to accumulate was far inferior.
Many of the rat people who were strong on the outside but weak on the inside could not withstand such high-intensity training.
Or the stone weights would fall out of their hands and smash into the instep of their feet, shattering the bones in their feet.
Or in the process of smashing into the iron walls, they would break their heads and break their tendons and bones.
Some even fell into pits full of sharp blades and were riddled with holes.
Some did not have time to untie the fishing nets full of barbs, and their arteries were torn. Blood splattered to the height of three to five arms, and they died from excessive blood loss.
These people were like defective products when forging weapons.
They were quickly dragged away by the expressionless rat people.
They were dragged to the colosseum full of totem beasts.
Immediately, more rat people recruits were replenished from the depths of the dungeon.
The next round of "forging" and "casting" began.
The arrival of the ice storm attracted everyone's attention.
As the trump card of the Blood Skull Gladiator Arena, although he had lost three matches in a row in the team battle, the adjudicators had declared him the loser every time. He had never truly been defeated by his opponents, and he had never suffered too much when fighting against the other team's general.
Moreover, because the other party had the advantage in numbers, she was often left alone in the end.
Unable to restrain her anger, she even performed the magnificent feat of "One Rider Against a Thousand", presenting an excellent show to the audience.
When she summoned the Mithril Ripper and stirred up a raging wave of frost, sending over a hundred rat soldiers flying, no one dared to treat her as a loser.
Therefore, the Ice Storm still enjoyed high prestige and worship.
Many of the rat people were eager to serve under her.
Seeing her appear, the exhausted rat people recruits once again gathered their spirits.
They bared their fangs and brandished their claws as they let out strange cries, trying their best to make themselves appear more ferocious.
The two disabled gladiators who were in charge of training the new recruits also walked forward quickly and greeted Hailstorm with smiles.
There was no trace of a smile on Hailstorm's face.
She had always suspected that Casava had done something.
In the previous three times she had chosen new recruits, she had not chosen the most outstanding ones.
This time, she had to open her eyes wide and search carefully.
Hailstorm put her hands behind her back and wagged her tail as she passed through the middle of the training ground.
However, he also discovered a few burly fellows with extraordinary strength.
Many clan warriors born in military noble families were also banished due to family conflicts and defeats in battles. They were reduced to rat people and had no choice but to marry other rat people.
Therefore, "rat people" had never been a concept based on bloodline.
The so-called 'filthy blood' and the 'glorious blood' were not fundamentally different.
If these burly fellows could devour large amounts of totem beast flesh and blood since they were young, and they had gorgeous tattoos all over their bodies, who could tell them apart from the real clan warriors?
Hailstorm knew this better than anyone else in the Turanians.
But she had to admit that even if there was no fundamental difference in bloodline, there was a world of difference in combat strength between the adult rat people and the clan warriors.
Most simply, when she stared deeply at these seemingly strong fellows, her cold eyes gently pierced their bodies.
They began to panic, their movements changed, and they made many mistakes.
In the previous three times she had chosen new recruits, she had chosen many burly and seemingly strong fellows.
When she personally trained these fellows, their performance was barely satisfactory.
But in the arena, facing tens of thousands of clan warriors and powerful onlookers with earth-shaking roars.
These rat-people servant soldiers, who came from remote villages and had never seen so many masters in their lives, often broke down in an instant.
The same thing could not happen a fourth time.
She only had one last chance.
She had to choose better soldiers.
But what kind of soldier was considered "better"?
Hailstorm frowned and silently pondered this question.
Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks.
She looked at a young rat person at the side of the training ground in surprise.
Compared to the tall and muscular adult rat people, this young man was too skinny.
But if she looked closely, she could see that his streamlined body and limbs were also covered with strands of steel-like muscles.
But because his limbs were too long, it gave people a feeling that they would break with a light grip.
How could such a "thin and weak" young man pass through layers of screening, survive from his hometown to Blackhorn City, and climb step by step from the deepest part of the dungeon to the new recruit training camp?
But the young man's size was not the reason why Hailstorm was surprised.
What surprised her was —
"He actually fell asleep?" Hailstorm murmured to herself, not daring to believe it.
Of course, it was impossible for him to not sleep even though he said he trained day and night.
But the place where the new recruits slept was next to the training camp. It was a stinky shack.
On the training ground, there was at most a short break after a dozen or twenty sets of extremely difficult heavy training.
Deafening shouts, screams, and the sound of stone locks and stone axes colliding could be heard all around. It was comparable to a real forging workshop.
How could he fall asleep in such an environment?
Hailstorm narrowed her eyes and looked at the young man seriously.
She saw that the young man's hands were covered with thick calluses, and the skin next to the calluses was bloody from the friction and tearing.
Obviously, he had just held a stone lock or a stone axe, and had gone through high-intensity training.
But there were no wounds on his body.
There were no scratches, bruises, falls, or cuts from sharp blades or barbs.
This was impossible.
In the new recruit training camp, all the rat people had to go through the same training. The training content was based on the military nobles' training of clan warriors who were about ten years old.
There wasn't a single rat who could endure such tough training without leaving a single scar on their body.
Judging from his even breathing and peaceful expression, this young man did not collapse from exhaustion, but fell asleep of his own accord.
It seemed that the training content that would cause most of the rat people to have a mental breakdown and die of exhaustion did not make him feel too painful or tired.
He was still doing it with ease!
Perhaps Hailstorm's eyes were too sharp.
The young man's eyelids trembled slightly in his sleep.
Before he opened his eyes, his hands brushed under his legs, and two bone blades as thin as cicada wings appeared.
The two bone blades did not have a handle.
They were sandwiched between two fingers, which was extremely difficult to notice.
Even Hailstorm, if she had not been watching the young man, might have missed this fatal move.
"What a brilliant skill to hide the blade!"
Hailstorm was more and more surprised. "This is a skill that only clan warriors who are used to killing can master. Where did a rat person learn this skill?"
Hailstorm could feel that the young man had woken up.
But he did not open his eyes, and continued to pretend to be asleep.
His flesh and blood were like a capstan wrapped around a cable, tightening bit by bit, so that he could escape, defend, and attack at any time.
Hailstorm withdrew her gaze, passed by the young man, and continued to walk forward.
She could feel that the young man was a little relieved.
Behind her, he opened his eyes slightly, and secretly observed her.
"What a daring little guy."
Hailstorm smiled slightly in her heart, and asked the disabled gladiator in charge of the training camp, "That little guy just now has long arms and legs, and looks a little thin and weak. Did he just climb out of the dungeon? How did he do?"
The disabled gladiator was slightly stunned, as if he did not expect that Hailstorm would take a fancy to this thin and weak young man.
He did not dare to offend the trump card of the Blood Skull Gladiator, and hurriedly said, "He just climbed up the day before yesterday. I heard that he did well underground, and he was very ruthless. Every time he went to a new cage, he would sneak attack the strongest and most powerful guy, which immediately shocked the others.
"But after he climbed up to the surface and came to the training camp, his performance … was okay. Nothing special."
"Nothing special?"
Hailstorm was stunned.
According to her observation, this young man was the most special rat person she had seen in the Blood Skull Gladiator.
After thinking for a while, she asked, "In the past two days, many gladiators have come here to choose slave soldiers. Did they not choose him?"
"Choose him?"
The disabled gladiator said, "It's strange. Although the boy's training isn't excellent, it's not bad enough to be whipped. He can barely finish all the training at the last moment.
"But every time a gladiator comes to choose a slave soldier, when everyone is focused and trying their best to perform, he is flustered and makes mistakes. One time, he even fell from the iron chain and almost fell into a pit full of sharp blades. He was so scared that his face turned pale and he shivered.
"It seems that he is too weak to withstand the pressure.
"Besides, he looks so thin and weak, as if he hasn't been weaned yet. Why would any gladiator waste a precious slot to choose him as a slave soldier?
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