The murky and fierce lion eyes leisurely patrol the area.

The largest of the four lions, the giant cave lion, slowly approached the woman as if strolling in an imperial garden. As a regular visitor of the arena and a cleaner of the final death match, it is familiar with the situation at hand.

The other three cave lions are closer to the dead archer's body.

They slowly walked past the body and one of the lions couldn't resist the temptation and quickly took a big bite of flesh.

This caused the cave lion facing the woman to let out an ear-splitting roar.

The greedy lion immediately stopped eating.

The three lions reluctantly moved their gaze away from the accessible food and directly crossed over the dead archer's body, continuing to approach the living people in the center of the open space.

The harpooner and the sword-shield picker who picked up the arrow disregarded the woman beside them. The two people back to back, slowly turning in circles, desperately watched the gradually surrounding cave lions.

At that moment, the sword and shield wielder was so frightened that he saw his short bow trembling like a sieve, and the arrow was almost unsteady on his bow arm. The harpooner next to him wasn't much better either, his harpoon swaying aimlessly like a lost sheep's horn.

Both of them panicked when they saw the four lions.

They came from far away in the south, from the remote town of Emola. The lions in the grasslands of their hometown were much smaller than the cave lions in front of them, but even so, they were powerful creatures that could not be defeated in stories and myths. The lion's sharp teeth and claws were a curse from the gods.

"I shouldn't have given up my shield for this damn bow," the sword and shield wielder thought with regret. "Then at least I could have blocked something."

At that moment, he saw the tall northern woman next to him shrink by half.

She knelt on one knee on the sand, her head high and her hands holding her sword in front of her knees.

She spoke in a language they didn't understand.

"Look, I've seen my father," she said. Her voice was calm and steady, with no hint of a tremor.

"Look, I've seen my mother, my brothers and sisters. Look, I've seen my ancestors standing in a row. They're all calling to me, summoning me to the hall of heroes, where the grand spirit will endure."

The words, which they didn't understand, seemed to contain some magical power.

The swordsman looked at her, and his heart became calm unconsciously, the short bow loaded with an arrow steadied in his sweat-covered palm.

However, when he shifted his gaze to the lion, he felt a surge of panic again.

He pleadingly looked to the woman, as if he could draw courage and strength from her, but he was horrified to see:

The woman stood up again, lifted her bronze sword, dragging the ringing shackles, and walked slowly towards the nearest cave lion.

The swordsman's heart almost stopped.

"Damned, it's just a foolish old woman looking for death," he said with a crying tone.

The woman walked towards the cave lion, which made the huge beast somewhat bewildered.

The cave lion withdrew its outstretched giant paw, shifted its weight, and moved slightly backwards.

The big cat is always extremely cautious and patient. It looked at the woman curiously, swung its ears, and wanted to figure out why the white two-legged creature was fearless.

Suddenly, the Shield & Sword wielder heard the sound of the Harpoon wielder behind him, saying in a low voice: "Shoot her."

"Wh-what?"

"Shoot her, make her bleed, attract the lion to bite her. You'll see, her script will come alive as she bleeds."

The voice of the Harpoon wielder was trembling, unclear if from fear or excitement. "She'll die, and we'll have three bodies here... she's big enough, the lion will be full... with the three of them, we can slowly retreat and escape this hell hole."

"But..."

"Screw buts!"

The tone of the Harpoon wielder became aggressive. The Shield & Sword wielder detected a killing intent. "You shoot or what, motherf*cker?"

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Feeling the solid handle of the harpoon against his back, the Shield & Sword wielder's forehead was sweating profusely. He suddenly realized that in the eyes of this Harpoon companion, he could be seen as a feeding source for the lion as well.

With gritted teeth, he turned the arrow towards the woman's back heart.

"That's it," the Harpoon wielder said impatiently. "Hurry up!"

The Shield & Sword wielder's heart was pounding like a drum.

The audience on the stands erupted in a chorus of boos.

Barnimeer sneered with disdain.

"How ugly," the black priest said with disgust, "The Emora people are always so lowly, completely unaware of what honor and reputation are."

Even the noble girl sitting next to him couldn't stand it.

"This is simply a disgrace," she said to Ashel in anger, "We should end this farce and show the warrior woman the demeanor of a noble."

Ashel was a bit confused.

He hated that woman to the bone. But he was from the noble Ener family, and this change was not what he wanted.

But to let her go, a woman who dared to insult the great Ener's sacred animal?

Even if he died, he couldn't forget the shame that night brought.

As the heir of the noble Ener family, the young Ashel took on the mission of the country and the family, accepting the emperor's dispatch, leading the army north, to the territory of the Aflon people, to help them resist the raids of the northern barbarians, and to cleanse the giant's court.

It was a thrilling victory. After the war, in the Assyrian style, thousands of savage heads were hung on branches as trophies. Their skin was peeled and placed outside the tree bark. This was the "grove of heads" that the empire used to show off its victory.

The grove of heads built by Ashurbanipal was several tens of miles wide, broader than any other empire general, deeply imprinting the glory and strength of the empire in the hearts of every barbarian tribe.

The Assyrians valued their helmets as a second life and cherished them.

Dozens of tribal leaders gathered valuable metal to make a magnificent golden helmet for him to show their loyalty and submission, displaying his unparalleled military achievements.

As an Assyrian poet once said: the best way to comfort a warrior's soul after bathing in blood is women and wine.

The young general's personal and deputy aide, as usual, prepared everything he needed in the room for him. The young general liked "tall and fair northern mares," which was known to the entire army.

But all the glory was destroyed by that mare.

He painfully thought.

Just one night apart, Ashur became the laughing stock of the entire army and even the country from an unbeatable bloodthirsty commander. Ten days later, he was recalled to the capital, relieved of his duties, and idled at home.

"Continue," Ashur said with gritted teeth.

He decided that when everything was over, he would announce the execution of the two Emmara people and bury them for her.

But she had to die.

The sword and shield hand firmly held the bow and aimed at the tall figure's back heart ahead.

At this moment, the woman was not guarded behind and still continued to move forward firmly.

She had a tall and slender body, with a narrow waist and broad shoulders. From the sword and shield man's perspective, her almost perfectly inverted triangular back muscle lines were clear and the muscles were developed but not bulky. Her white skin glimmered like salt under the sun, making his eyes dizzy.

His throat was dry and he couldn't help swallowing. Such a large target, no more than twenty steps apart from each other. No matter who comes to shoot this arrow, it is impossible to miss.

"Crack!" The arrow went away like a meteor!

The flying arrow was gone in a flash.

At the moment when his fingers left the bowstring, the sword and shield man held his breath and stared with wide eyes.

Just as the arrow was about to hit, the woman's feet did not change position, her waist twisted, and her body leaned to the right side. At the same time, the bronze sword drew a semi-circle obliquely.

The sound of clanging metal filled the air as the arrow grazed the sword, producing a shower of sparks. The arrow missed its target and disappeared without a trace. The audience burst into a chorus of exclamations. The fisherman cursed under his breath, "Dammit!"

The woman in front of him turned half her face towards him, glancing at him with a look that was half-smiling and half-serious. He was stunned, with his mouth wide open and mind in a jumbled mess, as the arrow that was almost guaranteed to hit its target missed.

Before he had time to think any further, the man-eating lion in front of the woman suddenly exploded! The lion let out an earth-shaking roar as it slammed its paws on the ground, then sprang into action.

The woman, still in the same position, relaxed and stood still, making no attempt to fight back.

The sword and shield wielder let out a sigh of relief, as did the harpoon wielder behind him.

Although lions hunt in groups, their choice of prey is often limited to one. When one lion attacks the selected prey, the other lions will follow and gather together to eat.

Let's curse that woman and let us go, he thought.

However, before his thoughts could come to fruition, they were horrified to see: the raging beast swept past the woman, with a foul wind, and charged towards them!

The other three lions seemed to have received the order, and they all attacked the two of them simultaneously!

The sword and shield wielder screamed loudly.

In almost an instant, the four lions violently pinned down the two men back to back, tore off their limbs, and dragged them to the ground.

The sword and shield wielder watched as the four huge lion heads gathered over them, bit into their bellies, and buried their heads in their liver and intestines.

Compared to this, the harpoon wielder was much luckier. When he was knocked down by the lion, he was first hit by a large paw, and his neck bones shifted immediately, and he was already dead.

"Why? Why?"

In the midst of the enthusiastic cheers of the surrounding audience, the sword and shield wielder cried out intermittently.

He trembled, experiencing the double pain of torn limbs and live internal organs, his face covered in blood and tears.

The largest of the cave lions temporarily stopped feasting, lifted its massive head from the sword and shield wielder's belly, its hair around its jaws stained red with blood.

The dazed lion looked at him once, then warily looked forward.

The sword and shield wielder was stunned to see that the lion's eye was pinned with an arrow. A bright red kept gushing from the wound and flowing down the lion's face, converging with the blood around its jaws.

He suddenly realized, shakily raised his head, and followed the lion's gaze.

The woman was still standing in place.

At some point, she turned her body. The bald left side of her face was facing him, with blue tattoos on her scalp that looked like rose vines and more like winding snakes.

She glared at him, a hint of mockery on her thin lips.

Those jade-like eyes, deep in the shadows of their sockets, seemed to harmonize the brutality of beasts and the wisdom of humans.

She was more like a predator than the lion.

This was the last thought that appeared in the sword and shield wielder's mind before his consciousness fell into darkness.