Snake Spirit shook his head, his narrow eyes tracking the movements of the nobles in the balconies above. "Wrong. The goal isn't to win; it's to entertain the nobles. If you just stand there like a tree, where is the fun in that? They won't get excited, and if they aren't excited, they won't tip. No tips means no black market coins, no level-up, and no mission completion. Got it?"
Tank frowned, his thick brow furrowing as he processed the logic. "So, if I yank them hard enough to show off our strength, they will think we're badass, right?"
Jing Shu wrapped her fingers around the coarse fibers of the rope and tested the tension. Her wrists were locked tight to the line by the metal cuffs, but that didn't stop her strength from flowing through her arms. The cuffs were meant to prevent people from running when they got dragged toward the edge. The organizers wanted the crowd to watch as people were slowly fed to the snakes. Still, she could easily break the metal if things went south. Feeling at ease, she spoke.
"Alright, Tank, when I say pull, you pull. When I say let go, you let go. Let's make this match a little more fun."
"No problem," Tank agreed. Jing Shu was even stronger than him. Holding off six men alone was hard work. With her joining in, though, they could do whatever they wanted with the rope.
The scene on the arena floor shifted. Jing Shu's team didn't move an inch against the strain. Aside from Xiao Hei at the end of the rope, who looked like he was putting in every ounce of his effort, everyone else seemed to be just standing there. On the other side of the pit, six massive men were straining their muscles until their veins bulged. Their faces turned a deep red, but the rope didn't budge a single centimeter. The crowd started to doubt reality. They wondered if these Asians were really that weak, or if the towering giant at the front was just freakishly strong.
Then the dynamic of the struggle shifted.
"Let go," Jing Shu said calmly.
Tank instantly released his strength and relaxed his stance. The sudden slack sent the six opponents stumbling several meters forward as they heaved against nothing. Xiao Hei, caught off guard by the sudden lack of resistance, lost his balance. He faceplanted into the dirt, rolling several times through the dust before coming to a stop. His scream, high and desperate like a pig being slaughtered, echoed across the arena floor and drew thunderous laughter from the stands. Even the nobles in the upper tier leaned forward to laugh.
The other side didn't fare much better. The six men almost fell flat on their backs when the rope suddenly loosened. Only their athletic training saved them from total embarrassment.
"Come on, they're running out of strength! That big guy is the only real threat, the rest are useless! I will give it to them, though; that guy is pretty damn strong! Pull harder, brothers, drag them in!"
With Tank relaxing his strength, the other team soon managed to drag Jing Shu's group toward the jagged edge of the pit.
"Oh, is it over already?" Peggy took a slow sip of her red wine, her voice sounding bored. Still, she thought having two new sacrifices for her pets wouldn't be a bad way to pass the afternoon. But before she could finish that thought, the Asians suddenly dug their heels into the silt. They halted right at the edge of the drop. Then, slowly and with visible effort, they began pulling back.
The crowd gasped as one.
Still, Jing Shu's side didn't seem to have enough people to finish it. The mercenaries on the other side spotted a small mistake in their footing and immediately countered. They almost dragged Jing Shu's team into the dark pit again.
The commentator's voice boomed through the speakers, full of raw excitement. "Oh my god, the Asians have survived another round of brutal attacks! They're holding their ground, but things don't look good. They're at a disadvantage, and I don't know how long they can last!
Oh my heavens, they're being pulled toward the pit again! The big guy is about to fall in! It's over! Game over! The black mamba is lunging at him! Wait; no! His teammates pulled him back! Incredible! I can't believe it, folks, this is insane! I don't even know why, but I'm starting to root for them!"
Tank swallowed hard, his breath coming in heavy heaves. One of his shoes had flown off in the struggle. "Holy shit, this is insane." He couldn't help glancing back at Jing Shu. Her strength was terrifying. Even when he was nearly dragged over the ledge, she had pulled him back effortlessly with one arm.
Their opponents finally realized something was off. Sometimes, no matter how hard they pulled together, the rope didn't move at all. It felt like it was tied to a mountain. But other times, the resistance felt softer and almost teasing.
At the most critical moments, when Tank should have fallen into the pit, he would be yanked back as if by something; or someone; far stronger than him. But who? Aside from the crying coward at the end of the line, no one else looked remotely strong enough to do it.
Minutes passed as the battle of endurance dragged on. The mercenaries were sweating buckets, their muscles trembling under the strain, but the Asians refused to fall.
The black mambas in the pit slithered restlessly over each other, snapping their black jaws at the air. They had leapt up several times already, to the roaring delight of the crowd. Even Peggy and the other nobles were hooked now, watching the struggle intently. What started as minor amusement had become genuine suspense.
Peggy lifted her microphone. "To make this match more exciting," she announced, "I will raise the stakes. For every person the winning team drags into the snake pit, they will get an extra 500 black market coins! The winners already get 1,500, but if they pull in all six, I will throw in another 3,000! And as for the losers; if any of you can climb out alive, I will still give you 500!"
The audience went wild at the announcement.
Now it wasn't just about winning a match. It was a fight to the death.
Jing Shu smiled faintly. "Showtime is over."
She leaned closer to Tank and whispered, "Roar a few times, beat your chest, then grit your teeth and pull them all into the pit, one by one. We're wrapping this up."
Tank felt awkward about the theatrics, but for the sake of the mission, he did it. He started pounding his massive chest like a gorilla and let out a thunderous roar. His eyes looked bloodshot as he took on the appearance of a raging beast. Then he began pulling, slowly but steadily.
The crowd went crazy. People jumped to their feet, shouting "Nice!" and cheering him on. Even some nobles in the top seats rose from their sofas, watching in rapture as Tank's raw power turned the tide. Inch by inch, the first opponent's feet slipped toward the edge of the pit.
Then; screams.
The man fell, and one of the black mambas immediately lunged. It sank its fangs deep into his thigh. The other snake followed, wrapping its sleek body around his waist. His body twisted violently as he tried to escape, but the cuffs on his wrists kept him locked to the rope.
The arena filled with his horrifying cries as blood sprayed against the walls of the pit. Moments later, all that remained was a pair of bloodied, severed hands still locked within the metal cuffs on the rope.
The second man's panic was immediate as he thrashed against the cuffs to get free, but the struggle was useless. Five men against Tank meant nothing. Within seconds, he too was dragged over the edge and into the pit. Even with his bulletproof vest, the snakes tore through his legs in an instant. The vest bought him a few seconds; nothing more.