Victory Was Certain, Yet They Still Played Dirty

Three days passed in the blink of an eye. A business-class car of no particular distinction, but bearing a high-specification license plate, pulled into Dou Wei Arena. Chen Shanzang stepped out carrying a small package, with Sun Xingzhe close behind him. As for Shun Lie... he had gone to park.

"This Dou Wei Arena isn't quite what I imagined!" Chen Shanzang said as he entered. He had been wearing a serious expression, but now he looked slightly taken aback. This place was nothing like what Shun Lie had warned him about. There was no air of powerful experts, nor any overwhelming pressure. Only a handful of spectators sat in the stands. The whole place felt less intimidating than the kitchen at Shaolin Temple, where he'd been surrounded by the Eighteen Bronze Figures.

"Then again, this is just a small county town," Sun Xingzhe replied casually. "You're not some world-famous chef, and your opponent's just a local gang. Were you expecting some earth-shattering Food Pressure or something?"

"I know, but the contrast is still pretty jarring." Chen Shanzang tried to collect himself, though he couldn't quite shake his disappointment.

It wasn't hard to understand. Imagine hearing all your life that soccer was popular around the world, with top-tier stadiums everywhere and every match drawing a packed crowd. Then, when you finally got to compete, you found yourself in a shabby field with no grass, iron-pipe goalposts without nets, and fewer spectators than players. Even if you knew you were only taking part in some minor tournament, it would still be hard to avoid feeling let down.

Still, Chen Shanzang regained his composure quickly. He shook his head and perked up, only to see Guan Jinchi walking out with his underlings, every one of them tattooed from head to toe with hairtail