Cruel Arena Battle

Brutal Arena Battle: "Perfect!"

Facing the Whirlwind Kick sweeping toward him, Iron Fist suddenly let out a thunderous roar.

His feet stamped the ground, his fists drew back, and chestnut-sized knots rose across his arms while his veins bulged like ancient vines.

"Two Dragons Emerge from the Sea!"

His fists blasted out, actually producing a faint explosive crack.

"The fists are sounding—he's about to break through to Bright Force!"

Fang Mo's heart stirred, shock flashing through his eyes. He knew that sound all too well.

"Damn it!"

Chasing Wind was equally shaken. He had never expected Iron Fist to have hidden himself so deeply. Even when Chasing Wind had beaten him back again and again until he could barely defend himself, he had never revealed his full strength.

But he was already airborne now, with no room to retreat. Gritting his teeth, he unleashed everything he had. Victory or defeat would be decided by this strike.

Fist and foot collided with a massive muffled boom, like thunder cracking overhead.

Chasing Wind flew backward and landed on the ground, then staggered back several more steps. Iron Fist, however, stood rooted with both feet planted as though welded to the floor, not retreating a single step. Blood qi surged around his body, and steam rose from the sweat above his head.

"Ha!"

Iron Fist roared, his hands crossing as they carved through the air. He strode toward Chasing Wind, each step making the ground tremble.

Chasing Wind's face was twisted in pain, sweat covering it. His foot was clearly injured, and he retreated on tiptoe, but an injured man was no match for Iron Fist's speed. Seeing his opponent rush at him, he could only force his leg up for a kick—only for Iron Fist to smash it aside with a swinging fist.

When his foot hit the ground, pain made him bare his teeth. Yet Iron Fist's arm came crashing down like a great hammer. He hurriedly raised both hands to block, but how could he possibly stop it?

His arms felt as if they had snapped. He was hurled away and slammed heavily into the iron cage, coughing up a mouthful of blood.

"Dark Clouds Cover the Top!"

Iron Fist roared as both fists smashed down toward his head, the gale from them howling. If those fists landed, his skull would likely be crushed to pieces.

"Ah!"

Many women in the stands screamed. Some covered their eyes, too frightened to watch the bloody scene—though gaps still showed between their fingers.

"I surrender!"

Chasing Wind shouted urgently, but it was already too late. Even Iron Fist could not pull back in time.

He only managed to turn his head aside. Both fists crashed into his shoulder, and the crisp sound of bones breaking rang through the entire arena.

Chasing Wind sprayed blood as he collapsed to the ground, his body twitching without cease. Blood poured from his nose, mouth, and ears, staining the ring red.

"Iron Fist wins this round!"

The host cried out excitedly, while the stands erupted into chaos.

"Iron Fist is too fierce! I want to sleep with you!"

"Iron Fist won beautifully! I'm tipping you a thousand!"

People shouted in excitement, tossing money into the air until it fluttered everywhere.

"Fuck, that useless trash made me lose ten thousand!"

"What Chasing Wind? He's nothing but a bottled-up breeze. How did I ever rate him?"

The crowd screamed and cursed madly, hurling liquor bottles at the iron cage. Not a single person showed any pity for the grievously injured Chasing Wind.

The iron cage opened, and two burly men quickly entered, hauling Chasing Wind away.

Fang Mo's gaze turned grave. The arena was truly perilous. That blow had definitely shattered Chasing Wind's shoulder bone—his life was likely ruined.

Yet his eyes only grew firmer. This was exactly what he needed!

"Iron Fist has won his eighth consecutive match, maintaining an eight-win streak! He receives a reward of eight thousand, plus ten thousand in tips!"

The host grabbed Iron Fist's hand and raised it high, shouting excitedly.

Fang Mo's eyes lit up. There were even ten thousand in tips. For him, this meant he could gain combat experience and make money as well. He would not have to worry about that one million running out.

Iron Fist thanked the crowd, then stepped down. Seeing that the audience's enthusiasm had been fully stirred up, the host shouted in an equally provocative tone.

"Next, the second match!"

"This will be a battle between evenly matched opponents! Both fighters hold ten-match winning streaks at our Iron Stone Boxing Ring!"

"They are Black Panther and Red Clothed!"

"Black Panther!"

"Black Panther!"

"Red Clothed!"

"Red Clothed!"

Excited cheers immediately erupted from the stands. Men and women alike danced wildly, while the music grew even more intense.

Fang Mo looked over and saw two people emerge from the passageways on either side. On one side was a man in a fitted black outfit, wearing a leopard mask. His well-proportioned build made it obvious at a glance that he was a speed-focused martial artist.

The other fighter was a woman in a red leather outfit. She had a tall, slender figure, especially those astonishingly long legs, and wore a bright red mask over her face.

He had seen Guan Lu fight before, so he was not surprised to see the woman here. If anything, he was intrigued.

Once the betting ended, the host stepped down. The instant the iron gate closed, both fighters moved at once, their speed blazing as they swiftly clashed.

Both were speed-type martial artists, meeting speed with speed. Black Panther was agile and unpredictable, his fists eerie and elusive, while Red Clothed was light and graceful, her palm techniques like a swimming dragon. Their figures constantly weaved around the arena, and the only sound was an unbroken series of thuds.

Fang Mo stared intently. Both of them had reached Peak Strength Training and were already on the verge of breaking through to Bright Force.

He knew full well that he was no match for either of them unless his own strength broke through again. Still, watching them fight would benefit him as well.

They fought for ten minutes. Both were panting heavily, clearly having gone all out, yet neither could gain the upper hand. The crowd cheered for their respective fighters, their shouts and cries reaching a fever pitch.

Quite a few scantily clad women swayed their bodies wildly to the music.

At that moment, the door opened, and a staff member appeared in the doorway.

"Mr. Iron Mask, it's your turn for the next match. Please come with me!"

Fang Mo hurriedly rose and followed the staff member out. As they passed through the lower passageway, he heard earth-shaking cheers from inside and knew that the match must have been decided.

Sure enough, by the time he reached the arena entrance and looked through the passage, the battle was already over.

Black Panther clutched his chest, blood at the corner of his mouth as he leaned against the iron cage. The woman in red stood before him, but unfortunately, Fang Mo had not seen how he had lost.

"Red Clothed wins this match, receiving a reward of ten thousand and tips of twenty thousand!"

Fang Mo clicked his tongue. One match had earned her thirty thousand.

By coincidence, the passage where he stood was Red Clothed's exit route. As she walked down and spotted Fang Mo waiting in the corridor, she merely swept him a glance before striding away on her long legs, leaving a rich, fragrant breeze in her wake.

"The third match will feature two newcomers!"

"Iron Mask versus War Bear!"

"Get up there! It's your turn!"

The staff member gave Fang Mo a push. Hearing the announcement, Fang Mo hurried inside.

A beam of light shone down as he walked through the passage. Unlike before, there were no cheers around him, only boos.

"What's Ironstone doing? Why bring in someone so weak?"

"After watching all that intensity, are they changing things up for a different flavor?"

"Is this a joke? A weak kid against a hulking brute—do we even need to watch to know who's stronger?"

Fang Mo walked on calmly, paying no attention to the shouts. He had not come here for anyone's applause.

He looked toward the passage opposite him. A burly man emerged, tall and powerfully built, his body covered in solid muscle. Fang Mo's pupils suddenly contracted.

Today might be a bitter fight.

"What's going on? Didn't I tell you to arrange someone weaker?"

In the private room, Xu Manli watched the hulking man enter and her face immediately darkened as she turned to the staff member.

The staff member's expression shifted slightly, and he hurriedly said:

"Manager Xu, this was arranged by Young Master Chen. Young Master Chen said this sort of contrast would be more exciting and attract more people to place bets!"

"Nonsense."

Xu Manli frowned slightly and said in a low voice, "What contrast is there? This is practically handing out money in the open. How could Iron Mask possibly beat War Bear? War Bear may never have fought here before, but he was born with divine strength. One punch of his weighs up to three hundred and fifty kilograms. The gap in strength is far too great!"

"It wouldn't be good to stop it now, would it?"

the staff member said worriedly.

"Forget it. Let it be."

Xu Manli waved a hand and looked at Fang Mo as he entered the arena. Fang Mo, you'd better pray for your own luck.