A Genius Who Defied Convention

The numbers on the report were like venomous snakes, frantically sinking their fangs into his heart.

Bibi Dong!

More than twenty Spirit Arena matches over three consecutive days—she had crushed every opponent!

She should have been the Spirit Arena's cash cow, yet she had become their gravedigger!

The Spirit Arena set up betting pools intending to make guaranteed profits from commissions.

But to attract those "gambling addicts" who dreamed of getting rich overnight, they sometimes offered outrageously high odds on Soul Masters whose strength was vastly inferior and who were almost certain to lose.

The temptation of "turning a small stake into a fortune" always drew gamblers in droves, hoping for that one-in-ten-thousand "miracle" upset.

In the past, this strategy had occasionally brought unexpected gains to the Spirit Arena, allowing them to reap a windfall from dark horses.

However, the Spirit Arena also had a hard rule: whenever the calculated odds fell below 0.01, the minimum payout rate of 0.01 had to be applied.

The difference had to be covered by the Spirit Arena out of its own pocket.

This rule was originally meant as a safeguard, preventing a collapse under extreme circumstances while retaining a sliver of opportunity to "harvest" profits.

At the Spirit Arena managed by Francis, this rule had been obsolete for years and had never truly been invoked.

But during the three days since Bibi Dong's arrival, this "zombie clause" had been triggered seven times in a row! Seven times!

And every one of them had been high-odds bombs personally released by those self-righteous shareholders who thought they could fish in troubled waters!

They were all targets with sky-high odds deliberately set by shareholders who thought they could take the chance to make a killing!

The final two matches of the first day, the final five matches of the second day... without exception, every single one had exploded, leaving blood flowing like rivers!

Today, after reality had slapped them viciously across the face, the shareholders had finally learned their lesson. They no longer dared play with fire and could only obediently settle for those pitiful commission scraps, hoping to recover at least some of their losses.

But the hole was already too large. Money flowed easily out of the Spirit Arena's public accounts, but getting it back out of the shareholders' bulging pockets to make up the deficit?

It was harder than reaching the heavens!

Francis could practically see the future where the enraged shareholders tore him to pieces.

"Get out! Who let you in?!" Hearing the door open, Francis roared without even raising his head, his voice hoarse with rage.

"Mr. Francis," Zhao Linchuan said calmly. His voice was not loud, yet it strangely pierced through the despair filling the room. "Let's discuss how to fill the... bottomless pit in front of you?"

"Discuss?!" Francis abruptly raised his head, his bloodshot eyes fixed fiercely on the unfamiliar young man at the door.

Just some brat?

"Get out! Get the hell out right now! I don't have time to listen to your bullshit!" He had no interest whatsoever in hearing a brat talk business.

Zhao Linchuan remained unmoved. Instead, he took a step forward, a cold smile curling at the corner of his lips. "It seems a gentler approach will not lead to an agreement."

The instant his words fell, a terrifying pressure that made the soul tremble descended without warning!

No Soul Rings appeared, yet the oppressive force woven from pure spiritual power and Soul Power crashed down like an invisible mountain!

The fury on Francis's face froze instantly, transforming into utter terror!

He felt as though he had been thrown into a ten-thousand-year ice cavern, his very blood nearly freezing solid!

An invisible hand gripped his throat, leaving him unable to make even the faintest sound!

The seemingly ordinary young man before him had instantly transformed into a primordial beast ready to devour its prey!

"Now..." Zhao Linchuan's voice was like ice from the Nine Netherworlds as it clearly entered Francis's fear-numbed mind. "Can you listen to me quietly?"

A few minutes later, the office door opened again.

Francis practically crawled out on all fours. His face was as pale as paper, cold sweat poured down his forehead, and his entire body shook uncontrollably. His eyes were hollow, as though he had just crawled back into the human world from the edge of hell.

Bracing himself against the cold wall, he gasped several times before barely regaining a trace of strength. Then he stumbled outside, forcing a hoarse, distorted command from his throat as he stopped two staff members.

Afterward, as if whipped by an invisible lash, he sprinted for his life toward the core of the Spirit Arena's betting operations—the backstage control room!

Inside Spirit Hall's exclusive luxurious preparation area.

"Sa... Mi... Miss!" A sharp-eyed young disciple pointed toward the main arena, his voice carrying an odd note. "The host... seems to have changed the match card!"

"Francis just ran over there in a panic. I'm afraid..."

Bibi Dong reclined lazily deep in her chair, her exquisite face still wearing an indifferent expression of utter boredom.

She glanced at the arena, her red lips parting slightly as she spoke with languid pride. "It does not matter."

"Let them look. If I only ever crushed vermin and mongrels, would that not be dull?"

Deep within her purple eyes, a nearly imperceptible flicker of anticipation quietly flashed.

Perhaps... they might actually find someone decent?

Hearing these lofty words, the disciples standing around her were all stirred to the core, their eyes filled with reverence.

One disciple carefully offered up a freshly brewed cup of hot tea, fragrant steam curling from it. "Miss, it is best to be cautious..."

"Mm." Bibi Dong responded, casually brushing her fingertips across the warm side of the cup before setting it aside.

This was already who knew how many cups of fine tea she had neglected today.

Looking at this group of young people before her, respectful to the point of fawning, a deep weariness and sense of detachment rose within her heart.

Reverence, ingratiation, flattery... all exactly the same.

What she longed for was someone who could make her take notice, someone she might even need to look up to.

A soul capable of conversing with her as an equal, of clashing with her in thought.

Even if it was merely someone who could make her feel a trace of novelty in some small corner of the world... that would be enough.

A nearly inaudible sigh escaped her lips.

She knew these people would become the foundation of future power. She had no choice but to continue playing this tedious game.

Just then, a Spirit Arena staff member approached respectfully, her voice breaking the brief silence.

"Lord Weaver of Fate Goddess, Litang Great Soul Arena... no longer has any Soul Masters of the same realm capable of matching your strength." She paused, her tone carrying a hint of barely perceptible nervousness and expectation.

"But... there is currently a Soul Master around your age whose Soul Power... has already reached the Soul Saint realm."

"Though it defies convention, there truly are no other options... would... would you be willing to try?"

"A Soul Saint?" Bibi Dong's previously languidly reclined body straightened ever so slightly.

The cold weariness in her purple eyes was instantly replaced by curiosity as sharp as a blade!

Around her age... a Soul Saint?!

"Oh?" The meaningful syllable carried an unusual rhythm.

A faint but genuine curve of interest appeared on her red lips. "Make the arrangements."

"Yes!" The staff member retreated swiftly, as though granted a pardon.

Bibi Dong's gaze returned to the direction of the clamorous arena.

A Soul Saint around her age?

Was the Spirit Arena fabricating this?

Most likely, it was some "old fossil."

But... what if it was real?

Someone who had defied convention and reached the Soul Saint realm at such a young age... how extraordinary would that person be? How... interesting?

Only an even more brilliant genius could dispel a genius's loneliness.

Just as her thoughts shifted—

BOOM!!!

From the direction of the main arena, it was as though a volcano suppressed for too long had erupted!

A tidal wave of frenzied cheers instantly swept over them, drowning out the silence of the preparation area!

Her battlefield had opened once more.

And this time, there seemed to be something... unusual in the air. (Is anyone reading this? If there is, I'll post more.)