The aftereffects of the groin kick were bigger than Lynx imagined.
Not for himself, but for Crixus.
Early the next morning, various versions of rumors spread in the training ground —
"Have you heard? Crixus pissed blood last night!"
"Not just pissing blood. The instructor secretly called a doctor and said it might… be ruined."
"Really? Just from that one kick?"
"That kid is ruthless, he specifically targets below the belt…"
"Better stay away from him in the future. Too sinister."
Lynx listened to these discussions with an unchanged expression while practicing short sword in a corner of the training ground.
Ruined?
Not to that extent.
He had held back some force at the time.
That kick, although painful, would at most make Crixus suffer for a few days. It wouldn't really ruin him.
But it was good that such rumors spread. At least he could have some peace for a while.
"Lynx!"
The instructor's voice came, with a bit of impatience.
Lynx stopped his movements and turned to look.
The instructor was a retired old gladiator with a knife scar on his face. His left leg was a bit lame, but his eyes were very fierce.
He held a rattan whip in his hand and pointed to the sand pit on the other side of the training ground: "Stop just practicing sword. Come over and practice wrestling! Close combat in the performance match is inevitable. With your thin arms and legs, you're finished if someone grabs you!"
Lynx put away the short sword and walked over.
Two gladiators were already practicing wrestling in the sand pit, both big guys.
When they saw Lynx come over, the two looked at each other, their eyes a bit subtle.
"You, practice with him."
The instructor pointed to the stronger one. "Ten minutes. No dirty tricks, just practice throws and escapes."
The gladiator pointed to was Marcus, who had been close with Crixus before.
He grinned, showing a mouth of yellow teeth: "Lynx, don't worry, I will 'properly' teach you."
Lynx didn't speak. He took off his upper garment and walked into the sand pit.
The two assumed their stances.
Marcus let out a low roar and pounced fiercely. His hands directly grabbed toward Lynx's shoulders — the standard gladiator wrestling starting move, using weight and strength to suppress.
Lynx didn't meet it head-on.
He sidestepped, and at the same time tripped Marcus's calf from behind with his right foot.
Marcus missed and staggered forward one step, but immediately turned and pounced again.
This time he learned. He opened his arms, wanting to hug Lynx's waist.
Lynx still didn't let him hug him.
He retreated half a step, blocked Marcus's arms with both hands, and used his forward momentum to pull him to the side —
"Thud!"
Marcus lost balance and fell face-first into the sand pit, eating a mouthful of sand.
"Pah! Pah!"
He crawled up awkwardly, his eyes red. "What the fuck are you dodging for?! Is wrestling done like this?!"
The instructor stood aside with his arms crossed, saying nothing.
Lynx spread his hands: "You said no dirty tricks, but you didn't say I couldn't dodge."
"I'll teach you how to wrestle today!"
Marcus was completely angry. On the third time he pounced, he used full force. His speed was much faster than the previous two times.
Lynx's eyes narrowed.
This time he didn't dodge.
He rushed toward the charging Marcus. At the moment they were about to collide, his body suddenly dropped low. His shoulder pressed against Marcus's abdomen, his hands hugged his waist, and using the forward momentum, he executed a standard shoulder throw!
"Bang—!"
Dust rose in the sand pit.
Marcus was slammed solidly to the ground. His back hit hard, and for a moment he couldn't breathe.
The whole place was quiet.
Even the instructor raised an eyebrow.
This throw was… very professional.
It wasn't the brute force throwing method of gladiators, but a technical one.
Lynx let go, retreated two steps, and looked at the instructor: "Is this okay?"
The instructor stared at him for a few seconds and nodded: "Not bad. But in a real arena, the opponent won't give you so many chances. Marcus, get up! Continue!"
Marcus struggled to get up. His eyes toward Lynx had a few more traces of wariness, but more of unwillingness.
For the next ten minutes, the two practiced a few more times.
Marcus tried to regain face every time.
But Lynx's wrestling skills were clearly a level higher than his. He was thrown around until he was dizzy every time.
In the end, Marcus was panting from exhaustion, with several bruises on his body.
Lynx wasn't much better.
Although he wasn't thrown, the high-intensity confrontation consumed a lot of energy, and the bruises on his arm from yesterday's performance match hadn't fully healed yet. They were starting to ache again.
"Alright, stop."
The instructor finally spoke. "Lynx, what's wrong with your arm?"
Lynx looked at his left forearm. It was purple with bruises and swollen.
"Hit by a wooden sword in yesterday's performance match."
"Why didn't you say earlier?"
The instructor frowned. "Go to the medical room and have a look. You can't be injured before the performance match. Master Batiatus will be unhappy."
The medical room was behind the main building of the training ground, a separate small house.
When Lynx pushed the door open, the room was filled with the smell of medicinal herbs.
The room was not big. There were several wooden shelves against the wall, piled with bottles and jars.
A woman wearing a simple linen long skirt was standing with her back to the door, pounding something in a stone mortar.
Hearing the door open, she turned around.
Mira.
The female healer of the training ground, or rather, the female slave who knew medicine.
She looked about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, with brown long hair simply tied back, no makeup on her face.
But her features were delicate, especially her eyes, gentle but with a bit of fatigue.
When she saw Lynx, she was stunned for a moment, then recognized him — the most popular newcomer in the training ground recently, the ruthless guy who killed an overseer with one punch and knocked down Crixus with one kick.
"You… are injured?"
Mira put down the mortar, wiped her hands, her voice very soft.
"Arm, hit by a wooden sword."
Lynx raised his left arm.
Mira walked over and motioned for him to sit down.
She first got a basin of clean water, dipped a clean cloth in it, and gently wiped away the dust and sweat on Lynx's arm.
Her movements were very gentle and careful.
Lynx could smell a faint herbal scent coming from her.
"It's swollen badly,"
Mira carefully examined the injury. "The bone should be fine, but the bruise needs to be dispersed, otherwise it will affect movement. Wait a moment."
She turned and walked to the shelf, dug out a lump of green ointment from a clay jar, and took a roll of clean linen strips.
The ointment applied to the arm felt cool and very comfortable.
"This is a herbal ointment I made myself. It can reduce swelling and stop pain."
Mira bandaged with the cloth strips while speaking softly. "Change the medicine once a day. It should reduce in three days. Don't use this hand too hard these days."
"Thank you."
Lynx said sincerely.
Mira looked up at him, seeming a bit surprised.
In her impression, gladiators were mostly rude and impolite. When they came to the medical room injured, they would curse. Very few would say thank you.
"You're welcome,"
She lowered her head and continued bandaging. "This is what I should do."
After bandaging, Mira packed up the things. She hesitated for a moment but still spoke: "That… Crixus he… really…?"
She didn't finish, but the meaning was obvious.
Lynx smiled: "Don't worry, he won't die, and he won't be ruined. He'll be in pain for a few days and it'll be fine."
Mira breathed a sigh of relief: "That's good. Although Mr. Crixus has a bad temper, but… everyone is a poor person."
This was said very carefully, but Lynx heard the sympathy in her words.
"You think gladiators are pitiful?"
Mira's hand paused, then continued packing. Her voice became even lower: "I just think… no one wants to be sold here, living day by day without knowing what tomorrow brings. Just being able to live is not easy."
Lynx looked at her.
This woman's eyes were very clean, without Lucretia's ambition and desire, and without the numbness or ferocity of the others in the training ground.
She was like a medicinal herb growing in the cracks of stones, living hard but stubbornly, and still wanting to heal others.
"What is your name?"
Lynx asked.
"Mira."
"Mira,"
Lynx repeated. "Good name. I'm Lynx."
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