Chapter 132: Firelight
The male assassin with a cold attitude was on the other side of the arena.
Randy threw out his heavy shield vigorously. His movements were much freer than when they fought side by side. Mora shouldn’t be with him, and he didn’t have to worry about her not keeping up with his actions. Oliver had heard about how decisive the tall man was. Randy would never refuse anyone who attacked. No matter how many people attacked at the same time, he never avoided fighting, and the battle would always end with the death of his opponent.
The value of the tall assassin had soared. There was only one reason why he was still here. He had never taken the initiative, so he wasn’t “qualified” enough.
No one here would call other people’s name. It was better to say that some people forgot their real name. They call each other by how much they were worth. The death row prisoner first called Randy “10,000 with scars on his face”, then “20,000 with scars on his face”. After just a few days, there was no death row prisoner who would approach Randy. They directly just call him “50,000”.
Just like they directly called him “300,000”.
Randy’s behavior seemed contradictory, but Oliver could guess a bit on his purpose. Mora was still active outside the prison. Although he didn’t know the plans of the two assassins, most likely Randy was procrastinating on her behalf.
The assassin stood quietly on the top of the bloodshed. The heavy shield that had taken countless lives rested beside him, covered with flesh and brains.
The smell of blood filled Oliver’s lungs. At the moment, there was no fiery fighting atmosphere in the arena. Most people were quiet, as if they were performing a dull daily task. There were only the wailing of the wounded and the sound of weapons colliding on the field. There were rarely curses. Newcomers would curse a few words at first, then most either fell silent or died.
Oliver retracted his gaze from Randy. Not far from him, the moist breath of blood came to his face and blood poured out of the wound of a death row prisoner. He quickly turned his face away. His dry throat tightened, and he couldn’t see the liquid flowing down his skin.