On the other side, Night left together with Caesar and the others.
Having earned money and witnessed such a spectacle, the entire Caesar family was in high spirits.
They did not feel dissatisfied at all about nobles being humiliated.
If it had been commoners slapping nobles in the face, they might have felt some sympathy.
But Night himself was also a noble.
That made the nature of the situation completely different.
This was simply the incompetent being trampled by the strong.
After witnessing that domineering display of strength, young Caesar was filled with admiration and longing.
After all, he yearned to become someone like that, able to act freely and do whatever he wished without restraint.
In the end, he couldn't help but ask Night how one could become that strong.
"What did I use just now to knock Strabo Pompey unconscious?"
Night spoke.
"Your fist?" Caesar replied.
"Correct."
"I understand now," Caesar said seriously. "You are telling me that only by grasping power, power that makes everyone fear and tremble, can one become truly strong."
Hearing his words, Night reached out and rubbed Caesar's head, smiling without saying anything.
In an ordinary historical world, authority would of course be more effective.
But what Night possessed was not just authority.
He also had fists.
Why were the senators and nobles, and even Strabo, so afraid of him?
It was not only because of his past reputation.
It was also because of his overwhelming popularity and prestige within the army, enough to make the nobles fear that he could rally the masses at any moment and turn Rome upside down.
After all, many veterans currently serving in the Roman legions had once followed Lista Night in that earlier era.
Who knew whether he had secretly maintained contact with those soldiers during all the years he had been absent?
And another equally important matter was, naturally, the strength of Night Terror.
It was this strength that allowed him to strike with the full weight of justice (the law) each time, leaving others completely powerless to resist.
This way of operating was something others could not even imitate if they tried.
The law certainly has many loopholes, but when everyone's strength is roughly equal, a real fight means no one truly fears the other, and even if things turn serious, it only ends in mutual destruction.
But when Night decides to strike someone, he strikes, and he does so in a way that leaves one utterly powerless to fight back.
Finally, after bidding farewell to the family of Caesar, Aurelia was left disappointed, as her two daughters were unable to return with Night that evening.
And when Night returned to the estate, bringing with him a large number of slaves.
The countless warriors who had been training on the open ground before the estate immediately erupted in wild cheers upon seeing the large number of slaves, especially the considerable number of female slaves among them!
Several Spartan slave warriors instantly fixed their gazes on the Spartan female warriors within the crowd, recognizing the familiar attire,
and those healthy, powerful muscles...
Such excessive physical conditioning, while it may cause women to lose some of their feminine grace and make them appear more masculine, something most men would not prefer, was precisely ideal in the eyes of Spartans who revered strength.
Their gazes could not be pulled away, moving along with the procession.
They suppressed the excitement rising within their hearts, while also remaining wary of the larger number of men within this group of new arrivals who shared their heritage.
Every single one of them could be a rival.
The three Spartan warriors who had originally followed Night exchanged glances, whispered briefly among themselves, and then one departed to seek out the Thracian warriors who had arrived alongside them, while the remaining Italian warriors were completely shut out from their circle.
Those who had come at the same time needed to stick together, so as to better suppress those who had come later.
At the very least, they needed to ensure they got their share first, to enjoy the company of women, before those latecomers would have their turn.
Soon, several strong Thracians were pulled over to their side.
As for why the Italian warriors were not included, it was because both the Spartan warriors and the Thracian warriors felt those few were simply too weak and not worth their attention.
Led by the three Spartan warriors, the group of strong men made straight for the position where the female slaves were gathered.
Unaware of what they intended, the female Spartan slave warriors each grew alert, instinctively pressing their backs together and forming a defensive circle.
The strongest among them lifted her proud head and positioned herself at the front.
Just as they braced themselves for what seemed like an imminent bloody confrontation, those men suddenly stopped and looked toward their master, Lista Night, who stood at the front.
"Master!" The warriors respectfully lowered their proud heads and gave a bow, a gesture of sworn loyalty.
In that very moment, seeing that Night had truly brought women back with him, they were completely won over.
Plenty of food and drink, feasts of meat every day, and strong women to take as wives.
This place was nothing short of the paradise a warrior could only dream of.
They would never again regard this estate as a prison.
If this place was a prison, then the world outside, most of the Roman territories, was nothing but Tartarus.
Seeing this, Night said. "I can see that you are all eager and cannot wait any longer! Perfect. Then let it be you who introduces the rules of this place to the new arrivals. You are permitted to use some force, so the newcomers understand the rules here.
However, do not deliver killing blows.
Is that understood?"
"Understood!!!" The moment he finished speaking, the Spartan and Thracian warriors all grew excited, their eyes burning with eagerness and the fire of those born for battle.
Seeing this, a smile appeared at the corner of Night's lips as he walked off to the side alone and had Amiela (one of the two servants) arrange a reclining chair for him by the entrance, then set out some fruit so he could rest.
Two handmaidens began attending to him as he ate, and for a moment it was entirely leisurely.
And Night simply watched the spectacle unfolding before him.
He had noticed that the slaves he had purchased earlier harbored some scheming thoughts of their own.
However, this level of petty scheming and competitive instinct was not something he intended to suppress.
On the contrary, he welcomed it.
Without competition there is no drive, and a measure of internal tension was quite necessary.
It would not only push the soldiers to unite and strive harder among themselves, but also ensure they would not band together and form a force threatening to the household.
Though Night himself did not fear this in the slightest.
Even if his subordinates one day grew powerful enough to betray him, they could never threaten his life.
But there were clever minds among those below him, and they were taking initiative on their own.
Not giving them an opportunity would truly be a waste of talent.
Before long, the Spartan warriors stood before the newly arrived warriors.
The newcomers each wore cold, guarded expressions as they looked at these veterans who radiated a vigorous and sharp bearing, not even connecting these men to the same status of slave as themselves.
The reason was simply that these men had been eating far too well lately, their physique and health surpassing even that of freedmen.
The veterans did not rush to explain the various policies Night had told them about.
Instead, they took the initiative to provoke the newcomers directly.
"Welcome to your new home, newcomers!
The master has given the order. It falls to us to teach you how to uphold the rules of this place!"
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