Sparta: Many childrens, Many Blessings, Starting from the Gladiator Chapter 57 57

On the afternoon of the seventh day, Marcus was checking a batch of newly arrived goods at the dock warehouse — Gracchus's private goods, so silk and spices from the East, tightly wrapped in oilcloth. They had a strange fragrance and were extrely valuable.

Marcus ca running over in a hurry.

"Boss, sothing's happened!"

"Speak clearly."

Marcus put down the cargo list in his hand.

"The 'Hamr Gang' from the south of the city is causing trouble in the western dock area!"

Marcus was panting. "They robbed a rchant's goods and injured two of our guards. They're still there now, shouting that they want to see you!"

Hamr Gang.

Marcus rembered the na.

A small gang in the south of Capua. They used to eat under Batiatus, doing things like collecting protection fees and petty theft.

After Batiatus fell, these people lost their backer and had been restless, but before they only dared to make small moves.

"How many people do they have?"

"More than ten,"

Marcus said. "The leader is called Brutus. He used to be a gladiator from Nodus. There's a scar on his face, from his forehead to his chin."

Scarface?

Marcus's eyes narrowed.

Wasn't this the sa "Scarface" who robbed Gracchus's goods before?

Wasn't he supposed to be dead?

The body had been found, and Gracchus had personally verified it.

"Are you sure it's Scarface?"

Marcus pressed.

"Positive!"

Marcus nodded hard. "I've seen him many tis in the arena. That scar is too obvious, I can't be wrong!"

Interesting.

It seed the person who "died" was a substitute.

The real one had been hiding until now and finally couldn't hold back anymore.

"Let's go take a look."

Marcus handed the cargo list to the guy beside him. "Gisco! Bring the Combat Team, full armant!"

...

The western area was the warehouse district. It was usually not crowded, only so slave laborers and guards.

But today, more than ten n wearing ragged leather armor and holding clubs, knives, and axes surrounded the entrance of Warehouse No. 3, looking aggressive.

Two port guards were lying on the ground. One was clutching his stomach and groaning, the other had a broken forehead with blood all over the place.

The leader's face indeed had a ferocious scar running from the left forehead all the way to the right chin, like a centipede crawling across his face, twisting his features.

"Marcus!"

Scarface saw them and grinned, revealing a mouth full of yellow teeth. "You're finally here, big hero! I've been waiting for you for a long ti!"

Marcus stopped ten steps away from him.

Gisco and the Combat Team lined up behind him, shields already raised.

"Brutus?"

Marcus asked calmly.

"You know ?"

Scarface raised one eyebrow — the scar moved with it. "That makes it easier. I heard you're in charge of the dock now? Then the rules need to change — starting today, the western area belongs to . Every warehouse pays ten denarii protection fee per month. If you don't pay…"

He kicked the groaning guard on the ground. "This is the consequence!"

Gisco's teeth ground together loudly. He wanted to charge, but Marcus raised a hand to stop him.

"Who sent you?"

Marcus asked.

"Who sent ?"

Scarface laughed coldly. "I ca because I wanted to! Batiatus is dead, Nodus is dead. It's ti for new owners on this dock! What are you? A rookie gladiator who just debuted, and you think you deserve to control such a big territory?"

The thugs behind him started jeering.

"Yeah! Go back to the training ground!"

"The dock belongs to us!"

"Kill them! Take their stuff!"

Marcus ignored the shouting and just stared at Scarface.

"I'll give you one chance."

Marcus's voice wasn't loud, but everyone could hear it clearly. "Take your people and get out of the dock now, and I can pretend today's incident never happened."

"Get out?"

Scarface sneered. "You're the one who should get out!"

He suddenly pulled a small crossbow from his chest and shot straight at Marcus!

"Boss, careful!"

Gisco cried out.

But Marcus was faster.

Danger Perception had already sounded the alarm a fraction of a second before the bolt was fired.

He shifted his body half a step to the left. The bolt grazed past his shoulder and "puchi" embedded itself in a wooden crate behind him, the tail still quivering.

Almost at the sa ti, the thugs behind Scarface roared and charged forward.

"Combat Team!"

Marcus ordered. "Shield formation!"

Gisco reacted imdiately. "Form up! Quick!"

The nine Combat Team mbers quickly closed ranks, shields locked together, forming an arc-shaped defensive line.

Spears protruded from the gaps between the shields, their bright tips forcing back the first chaotic wave of attackers.

Although Scarface's side had more than ten people, they were just a mob who only knew how to charge and swing wildly.

Facing an organized shield formation, they couldn't break through at all. Instead, several were cut by the spear tips.

"Damn it!"

Scarface cursed, pulled an axe from his waist. "Follow ! Break their turtle shell!"

He led his fiercest n straight toward the center of the shield formation — the place that looked weakest.

But Marcus had been waiting for exactly this.

"Gisco, shift left three steps!"

He shouted.

The shield formation suddenly moved left in unison, the movent so neat that Scarface was stunned for a mont.

In that split second of hesitation, he and three of his n had already rushed into the gap —

Then they realized they were surrounded.

The shield formation closed again, trapping the four of them in the middle.

Shields and spears surrounded them on all sides, like an iron barrel.

"Drop your weapons!"

Marcus shouted.

Scarface's face twisted. "Drop your mother—"

Before he could finish, Octavius charged out from the shadows of the nearby warehouse.

The giant didn't use any technique. He simply slamd into the crowd like a bear charging into a flock of sheep.

His fists swung, one punch per person, one kick per person. Scarface's n flew out like scarecrows.

Scarface tried to run, but Saxa had already circled behind him at so point. Her short blade rested silently against his neck.

"Don't move."

Saxa's voice was very soft, but the blade was ice-cold. "This knife of mine is freshly sharpened. It's very sharp."

The fight was over.

It took less than five minutes from start to finish.

Scarface's side was lying all over the ground. Only three could still stand, all with their hands raised in surrender, faces deathly pale.

On Marcus's side, only two people were lightly injured — one had a slash on his arm (flesh wound), the other had his forehead smashed by a club and was bleeding a little.

"Tie them up."

Marcus said.

The Combat Team stepped forward and tied the captives tightly with thick hemp rope. Their technique was practiced — Gisco had taught them the most secure way to bind people these past few days.

Scarface was dragged in front of Marcus. He still tried to act tough: "Marcus, if you have the guts, kill ! Otherwise I'll kill you sooner or later! I swear!"

Marcus looked at him and suddenly smiled.

"I won't kill you. You're still useful."

He walked over to the injured guard, squatted down to check the injury — two broken ribs, but not life-threatening.

"Marcus, send them to the infirmary. Find Mira to treat them."

Marcus stood up. "Everyone else, take the captives back to the training ground. Separate them. Put Scarface in Cell No. 1 alone."

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