Consecutive Victories

"An arena match?"

Jiang Yue's brow furrowed slightly at the words.

The Thousand-Jin Stake's weighted static squat, or endurance contests—while they could leave hidden injuries—at least had a buffer limit, with the worst outcome being a broken leg bone.

But a real, no-holds-barred arena match was a bloody, blade-to-blade life-or-death brawl. Fists and feet had no eyes; one misstep could mean ruptured organs or even instant death on the spot!

This wasn't the supervised sparring of recruit training.

In those underground black boxing rings with private betting, once the fight got heated, who cared if you lived or died?

"If something fatal or crippling happens, the instructors probably won't allow it, right?"

Jiang Yue said in a low voice. "Who's that recruit, daring to take on a life-or-death bout like this?"

For such a betting pool to open, it was clear both sides were genuinely furious—this was no joke.

Xu Bo shook his head and curled his lip. "Who knows... This kind of thing's done on the down low, dodging the Supervision Team's patrol routes."

"Besides, Jiang Ge, don't think too highly of those veterans. Most of the ones left in our Floating Land No. 17 Veteran Barracks Area are washouts or logistics grunts doing heavy labor."

"The real elites who've fought in frontline interstellar bloodbaths and crawled out of piles of corpses—you can count them on one hand."

"Those logistics veterans don't have much discipline; all they think about is scraping together points for booze and tobacco. The instructors usually turn a blind eye to these private scraps, as long as they don't make a scene across the whole barracks."

With that, Xu Bo paused, his gaze turning complicated as he looked at Jiang Yue. "As for that recruit stealing the spotlight... you definitely remember him."

"It's Shen Qing."

At the name, Jiang Yue's mind instantly conjured the image of that martial arts fanatic in the Gravity Chamber—capillaries bursting all over his body, eyes bloodshot like a beast, stubbornly holding his ground even as his bones snapped.

Jiang Yue vaguely recalled that when the One-Eye instructor called him away that day, Shen Qing had been summoned too.

Clearly, that madman had also received some special "attention" or provocation.

"That lunatic has a foundation in ancient martial arts, and he fights like he doesn't care if he dies. Taking on an arena match fits his style," Jiang Yue commented.

"Whatever."

Xu Bo shrugged, wearing an expression like he was ready for a show. "Shen Qing's tough, but since the veterans dared to open an arena, they've definitely prepared thoroughly."

"This kind of god-tier brawl—we don't need to get involved. Tonight, we'll just watch the excitement and broaden our horizons."

"Watch the excitement?" Jiang Yue countered noncommittally.

"Yeah, let's go, Jiang Ge! If we're late, there won't even be standing room!" Xu Bo led the way excitedly.

Jiang Yue stood still, silently rubbing the military merit terminal on his wrist that showed a single-digit number, lost in thought.

Watch the excitement? Not get involved?

A real, blade-to-blade arena match would definitely come with absurdly high betting odds.

He wondered if there was a chance to profit from it.

"Let's go."

Jiang Yue sheathed the sharpness in his eyes, pulled his coat tighter, and stepped forward with steady strides, following Xu Bo into the dim Grey Zone deep within the floating land.

Weaving through a maze of underground armored passages, a wave of heat mixed with the pungent stench of sweat, cheap tobacco, and the metallic tang of blood washed over them.

Under the flickering, unstable holographic spotlights, hundreds of veterans and recruits who'd caught wind of the event packed the area around the central alloy arena, their frenzied roars and curses nearly lifting the heavy dome.

Jiang Yue tugged at the collar of his training uniform, silently blending into the back of the crowd, observing his surroundings without a change in expression.

Most of the logistics veterans here were those injured during recruit training or frontline cannon-fodder campaigns, washed out and discarded.

In terms of martial arts talent and genetic potential, they could never match the "seeds" among this batch of recruits.

But if anyone dismissed them as useless, they'd be gravely mistaken.

In raw strength, these veterans had spent years tempering their bodies on this 1.5-gravity floating land—far longer than the recruits!

The flesh-and-bone foundation they'd accumulated through daily grinding gave them a solid edge in average physical fitness over ordinary recruits.

That was their confidence in opening a betting ring to harvest recruit points.

Of course, if they ran into a monster like Chu Lin, or those truly reckless new recruit hardcases, the outcome was anyone's guess.

"Yo, Old Li, the betting pool's huge tonight!"

As soon as Xu Bo squeezed into the crowd, he moved like a fish back in water, casually greeting a few scar-faced veteran bookmakers.

As a well-known sharp mind in the Recruit Camp, he'd won big in several bets over the past few days with precise data analysis, earning him a familiar face in this smoky, grimy underground black boxing arena.

Jiang Yue ignored Xu Bo's socializing. His deep gaze cut through the crowd and soon landed on a familiar face at the front of the veteran ranks.

It was the veteran he'd bet against in the Thousand-Jin Stake a few days ago—the one whose mechanical prosthetic he'd ground to failure—Old Cripple.

Right now, the guy had swapped his right leg for a cheap-looking spare metal prosthetic, glaring at the arena with gritted teeth.

Besides the veterans, there were plenty of troublemaking recruits like Xu Bo, flushed with excitement as they came to watch the show.

Bang!

With a dull, teeth-grinding thud, a burly veteran on the arena—his muscles like rock—was slammed square in the chest by a vicious shoulder strike.

A crisp crack of breaking bones followed as the veteran spat a mouthful of blood, rolled his eyes, and passed out cold. A waiting logistics Crawler Robot immediately dragged him off the arena.

The crowd of onlookers instantly erupted with deafening noise, the entire Black Boxing Arena boiling over.

"Third match! Damn it, this new recruit is about to win three in a row!"

An old soldier who'd lost points on bets angrily stomped out his cheap cigarette butt on the ground, cursing loudly.

"Old Cripple! You're up next! Lose again, and our veteran camp's face will be ground into the mud by this kid!"

On the new recruit side, gasps of amazement rang out: "What the hell is that lunatic on the stage eating to be this fierce?"

Jiang Yue looked up and saw a slightly gaunt figure standing like a lone wolf in the center of the ring.

It was Shen Qing.

Shen Qing's condition looked absolutely terrible right now. His body was wrapped in blood-soaked special-grade bandages, and his originally black training uniform had been completely dyed a dark crimson.

He panted heavily, his chest heaving violently, but beneath his disheveled bangs, a pair of eyes gleamed with chilling frenzy and bloodlust, fixed on the veteran crowd below.

"After this period of improvement, this person's strength stat should have already exceeded eight hundred kilograms, right?"

"Perfect timing to observe his fighting style and learn a thing or two."

Jiang Yue had no interest in placing bets and decided to wait and watch for now.