Chapter 13 Become The Leader Of The Slaves

"You have to let me go first so that I can get them." The bearded man tried to bargain, his eyes hidden under layers of fat, stealing glances at the door from time to time. "Don't look. Your men have all been caught." As soon as Atar saw the bearded man's eyes, he guessed what he was up to. He let out a soft laugh, shattering the bearded man's illusion. "If you don't tell me, I can always ask someone else." "But then you'll be the one who's going to die." The beard on the guard's face quivered violently. He lowered his head as if accepting his fate and shuffled towards the corner. The sword at his neck moved with his steps. Atar's eyes were calm, watching his movements quietly. The bearded man crouched on the ground, lifted the stone bricks on the floor, and took out two scrolls of paper from beneath them. Then he turned around and shakily handed them to Atar. "S-spare me." Atar took the scrolls the bearded man handed over and looked down at the squatting man. Slowly, he moved the sword away. The bearded man's mouth twitched, his eyes filled with deep hatred. He bent his legs and was about to pounce on Atar to knock him down. But the next moment, he was kicked hard into the corner. The impact made him spit out a mouthful of blood. Gasping for breath, he lifted his eyelids and looked at the approaching figure. The tip of the sword was pointed at his chin. "I never said I'd spare you, you sinful murderer." Atar thrust the sword forward, and the blade pierced through the neck, and he could even feel the touch of the wooden wall. He didn't close his eyes. He just watched quietly as the guard met his end, engraving his dying appearance deeply in his mind. "Atar!" Samir, the youngest child from before, walked outside the wooden house and shouted at Atar's back, "Things outside have been taken care of." Because of his age, the adults didn't let him participate in other tasks, only allowing him to be in charge of delivering messages. "Okay." As soon as Atar pulled out the sword, the body on the ground lost its support and fell. He turned to Samir and said, "Ask them to come in for a moment." Suddenly, Atar heard a sharp sound of something cutting through the air behind his ear. He quickly turned his head, took a step forward, and his boots twisted and rubbed on the ground, making a harsh noise. In the blink of an eye, Atar completely changed his position and direction, standing in front of Samir to protect him. The blood on the sword was still dripping onto the ground. "You damned slaves!" The guard still had a drunken blush on his face. His breath reeked of alcohol, and he held the sword in his hand crookedly. Atar focused and clearly saw the source of the attack. His body remained tense and unrelaxed. He shot forward like an arrow leaving the bowstring, and blood splattered everywhere. The drunken body fell to the ground and never woke up again. Atar turned around, wiped the blood splattered on his face, walked back to his original position, and gently said to Samir, "Sorry, did I scare you?" Samir looked at Atar's blood-stained hand in silence. Then, he shook his head firmly. "I'm not scared." After finishing dealing with the matters in the wooden house, everyone changed into the guards' uniforms in the barracks. A few people gathered around Atar, watching him unfold the Colosseum map and the schedule they had obtained. These people had performed outstandingly during previous actions and were considered to have excellent abilities. Several square tables were put together. All the jugs of wine on the tables were cleared away, and a new tablecloth was laid. A scroll of map was spread out lengthwise on it. Atar unfolded the schedule and asked the people around, "Do you have any ideas?" Atar was looking at the connection between the schedule and the map, but he didn't get any response from others. He looked up. "What's wrong?" One of them said in a low voice, "We... can't read." Atar's movement froze. Only then did he realize that the grandpa who had adopted him when he was a child had taught him some basic reading, but only limited to counting. Just now, when Ormazd asked him what ability he had obtained, he hadn't had time to answer. It was "language". This ability not only made it easy for him to read and write, but also allowed him to communicate with beasts. His voice was a bit dazed. "Sorry." He drew a circle on the map with a pen. "Then let me tell you about it." "According to the schedule, a brown bear will appear tomorrow. It's a very large-scale beast-fighting show." The red circle on the map was where the brown bear was located. "Many senior officials and nobles will come." The wooden table made a creepy sound as someone scratched it. Atar looked over instinctively. The strong young man's eyes were filled with hatred, and his voice was full of anger. "Let them see the power of the slaves. Let them die in regret!" Seeing the anger ignited all around, Atar spoke up, his voice extremely calm. "What do you want to do?" The strong young man replied angrily, "Of course, let them be eaten by the brown bear." To use their blood to pay tribute to his dead sister. "I have some special information to tell you all about this." Atar said, "Tomorrow, the soldiers of the enemy country will use the power of the brown bear to break through our defenses. If all the senior officers die, the city of Zaravash will only end up falling." Although there were many slaves in the city of Zaravash, it would be rather difficult to use these slaves to resist the regular army of the enemy. So they needed to rely on the knowledge of the officers, though it was uncertain how much combat power those guys who only had wine and women in their minds still had. "What!" Everyone was shocked. "Are you saying we should just wait here to die!" The strong young man slapped the table hard. He was a bit taller than Atar, pressing forward intimidatingly as he questioned. Dying in a fight with the brown bear, dying under the suppression of the city's army, or dying when the city was captured in a war with the enemy country. So, were the words he said at the beginning false! "No." Atar met the young man's gaze, showing no fear in his eyes. "The troubles we're facing seem complicated, but in fact, we just need to break them down layer by layer." First, the beasts in the Colosseum. Second, the oppression of the city's army. Third, the infiltration of enemy soldiers. "Leave some people in the barracks to pretend to be guards. Some people should lurk near the barracks, kill the passing guards, and then take their places." Atar arranged the division of labor among everyone in an orderly manner. "Finally, I'll lead a few people to check the beast-holding area." While everyone was carrying out Atar's division of labor, Atar was looking at the safest route to the beast-holding area when his clothes were tugged. He looked in that direction. Shapur stammered a bit. "Are you really going to the beast - holding area? You don't have to go, you know. That place is really terrifying. You could die easily." He wasn't worried about whether the person in front of him would die or not. Samir, who peeked out from behind, also nodded. "Yeah, Atar, do you have to?" It would be such a waste if Atar died so easily. They both thought the danger in the beast - holding area was extremely high, with almost no chance of survival. Seeing the overly obvious concern of the two in front of him, Atar smiled and ruffled Samir's hair. "I can't." Precisely because it was dangerous, he had to go. Beside them, the strong young man from before walked up to Atar, his eyes determined. "You should be well aware of our hatred towards the nobles. I want to see how you lead us out of this difficult situation." Atar noticed the looks in the eyes of the nearby slaves when the strong young man said this. He nodded. "Yeah, I'm aware very well." "I'll go to the beast - holding area with you." The strong young man named Farrokh finally voiced his inner thoughts. His voice carried dissatisfaction at Atar putting himself in danger, yet it seemed more like a threat. "You can't die until you give us the final answer." Atar looked at him. Beneath the man's dark-green eyes was a deep-seated hatred for the nobles. Atar said, "I won't die. I promise you." At least, not before obtaining freedom for the slaves. He wouldn't die so easily.