Chapter 160: Silver Fox Half-Human

Without another thought, Phield strode quickly into the entertainment district.

It was even more crowded than the main hall, packed with frenzied people throwing money around like it meant nothing.

"Double it all! Pour your auntie a glass of sparkling wine!"

"Haha! If you actually win, I’ll eat this marble table today!"

But the largest crowd was gathered around the central arena.

The colosseum was a massive stone pit. As long as the spectators leaned forward, they could clearly see the brutal, blood-soaked battles below.

A two-headed demonic lion leapt lightly into the air and instantly pounced on a terrified, screaming female slave. Starved for over ten days, the beast didn’t hesitate for even a second. Its jaws tore open as it ripped off the woman’s leg, chewing greedily before swallowing it whole.

"Help... hel—"

Blood splattered everywhere. The screams quickly faded. As the lion fed, its two heads even began biting at each other in savage frenzy.

"Good! Good! This is incredible!"

"I won! I knew she’d be the clever one—the last to get eaten!"

Some cheered, others raged.

"So it’s a slave beast arena... That uncontracted Divine Chosen... could she be one of the contestants?"

After watching the scene, Phield suppressed his anger and let out a cold snort.

Humans were just as cruel to their own kind. These slaves could have created immense value in Nightfall Domain, yet here, they were nothing more than entertainment for bored nobles.

"Hey kid, wanna follow my bet next round? Trust me, I can definitely guess who’ll survive till the end."

A grinning man approached, trying to throw an arm over Phield’s shoulder. Phield casually sidestepped, leaving him awkwardly missing his mark. Yet the man showed no embarrassment at all and instead continued familiarly,

"Lend me fifty thousand gold. I’ll definitely win it back."

Phield frowned. The man’s shamelessness was astonishing. They didn’t even know each other—why would he lend him money?

"I don’t have any."

"No, you do. I saw it—eighty thousand gold." The man’s tone turned threatening.

"You’ve been following me." A hint of killing intent flickered in Phield’s eyes. "So what if you saw? What does that have to do with you?"

The man tilted his head and dropped all pretense. "Give me fifty thousand gold, or I’ll kill you."

"So you’re not even pretending to be civil anymore?" Phield calmly drew his sword. "Not lending. Get lost."

"You’ll regret this." The man sneered, casually patting Phield’s shoulder before turning away. "Next time you see me, you’ll be a corpse. Better prepare your coffin."

"Is that so?"

A faint smile curled at the corner of Phield’s lips.

"He marked you, you adorable little lord. A gambler who’s lost everything has already gone mad—he’ll do anything."

A familiar, lazy female voice came from behind.

"Give me ten gold coins, and I’ll remove it with purification magic. Otherwise, he’ll keep tracking you."

Phield turned around. It was the female merchant who sold magical plants.

"That kind of behavior makes it very easy for me to suspect you’re working with him. Who knows if what you’re casting is purification... or tracking magic instead?"

"You already noticed what he did?" A trace of surprise flashed in the merchant’s beautiful eyes. She rested her chin on her hand gracefully. "Seems my warning was unnecessary."

"Compared to him, I’m more wary of you. You keep appearing near me. I don’t believe you’ve fallen in love with me... or that this is some guidance from the Goddess of Love."

What could be more ridiculous than finding true love in a depraved masquerade like this?

"Relax. Pure coincidence."

The merchant tilted her head and pointed downward with her fan. "Look, a new round is about to begin. Guess who’ll be the last one eaten?"

Following her gesture, Phield looked down.

A purple aberrant mantis cautiously emerged from an opening gate, its movements twisted and unnatural.

"Hiss—"

It let out a low growl, suddenly spreading its wings and launching straight toward the spectators above.

"Such a lively little thing."

Before it could even reach them, a naked man casually leapt down from the audience and slapped it back into the pit with a single blow. No one around reacted—clearly, they were used to it.

"A third-tier knight... terrifying strength."

Phield nodded repeatedly. The aberrant mantis was only a first-tier magical beast—it stood no chance against a third-tier opponent.

Aside from Divine Chosen, who could fight beyond their level, most beings were strictly limited by their tier. Without superior equipment or overwhelming numbers, crossing tiers was nearly impossible.

The nobles wanted excitement, yes—but they also valued their lives. They wouldn’t bring out higher-tier monsters to play with; those were far too dangerous to control.

"Boom—"

The mantis slammed heavily back into the arena, swayed, then struggled back to its feet. Its compound eyes flickered with fear, too terrified to even look up. If the knight hadn’t held back earlier, that single blow would have either crippled or killed it.

"Welcome, esteemed guests! The beast has entered the stage. Next, we will release eight little pets for a thrilling battle royale. Whoever survives until the end will be the winner—though, of course, they will all die eventually."

"These pets were just captured, completely untrained. There’s no chance of cheating."

Magical chains restrained the mantis. Then the gate opened again, and eight girls were pushed into the arena—humans, demi-humans, and even a halfling.

Halflings, similar to dwarves, were also called Hobbits—forest dwellers who lived in wooden homes and were considered close relatives of humans.

"Place your bets."

The host smiled, calmly waiting for the crowd.

"Which one do you favor? I think number four, that human, looks promising. Those muscles aren’t for show. If she gets a weapon, she might stand a chance."

For entertainment, the organizers had scattered weapons—swords, clubs, and spears—throughout the arena, though their usefulness was limited.

Phield swept his gaze across the contestants.

Then he saw it—the green marker on his mini-map.

It rested on the most inconspicuous figure: number seven.

"A... fox?"

The female merchant suddenly shuddered, instinctively turning to look at Phield. Seeing him staring intently at the slaves, she followed his gaze.

Contestant number seven was a silver-haired, gray-eyed fox demi-human—a delicate, fragile-looking young girl. She appeared pure and harmless, her slender legs trembling uncontrollably. Yet in her eyes was a calmness far beyond her apparent age.

"You think number seven will win?"

The merchant smiled. "Just a weak little fox demi-human. Other than serving men, she probably has no abilities at all. She’ll definitely be the first to die."

Phield sighed silently.

He hadn’t expected that the Divine Chosen he was searching for... would turn out to be a slave forced into a death match.