Volcano

In the private box high above the spectator stands.

"Yeah!"

With an excited shriek, the sultry woman lunged onto the windowsill, waving her fists and cheering loudly.

She wore only a purple-red sequined camisole, looking like something out of a dance hall, exposing dazzlingly white shoulders, a shallow but prominent cleavage, and a pair of long legs that were thick at the top and tapered toward the bottom. The camisole was a size too small for her, barely covering her buttocks, and as she leaned out the window on tiptoes, half of her plump, rounded rear was exposed.

There was nothing there, or perhaps, there was everything.

Yu Feng stared straight ahead, frowning as he watched the staff carry away the corpse of Li Xiaoguang and clean the ring.

Zhou Hu, holding a glass of champagne, lounged on the sofa. Even from his reclining position, he could see what was below, and he raised an eyebrow. However, he quickly shifted his gaze to the woman's backside, his eyes flickering before he set down his glass and stood up.

He pressed himself against the woman's back and said in a raspy voice:

"I already gave your little brother clear instructions. He really doesn't know how to keep one's mind at ease."

"What does it matter? He was just a Warm-up Fighter anyway. If he's dead, he's dead."

The woman giggled, looping her lotus-root-like arms around Zhou Hu's neck.

Zhou Hu shook his head:

"It doesn't matter, but there are still a few people left. After seeing the consequences of admitting defeat, I'm afraid they'll all fight for their lives. How much stamina does Zhang Yao have left for the final match?"

The woman reached her hand downward:

"Oh, Brother Hu, haven't you already arranged everything?"

"It's arranged, but I'm afraid he'll be panting by the end, and it won't look good when he wins."

"How could that be! My little brother is very strong~"

The woman giggled coquettishly while twisting her snake-like waist.

She had deliberately lunged to the window to scream and cheer, waiting for this very moment.

Zhou Hu could no longer hold back, thrusting forward with heavy, ragged breaths:

"You slut! Why don't you see for yourself how strong my little brother is!"

The woman stuck out her tongue, her entire upper body still leaning out the window. Some spectators nearby noticed the scene behind her and immediately began to jeer, but the woman didn't shy away, blowing kisses while she shrieked.

Zhou Hu looked back, panting as he gave his orders:

"Just send one more warm-up fighter. Don't send them all at once."

Yu Feng nodded slowly and walked out of the box.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!!!"

In the waiting room, Wang Li knelt before a bench, clutching his head in a breakdown.

Li Xiaoguang's corpse lay on the bench, covered in blood, half of his skull caved in...

Chen Chong numbly pulled the white sheet back over the body, hoisted the still-muttering Wang Li up, and shoved him into a nearby chair.

"Quiet."

Wang Li fell silent instantly.

Liu Hetao stood in a half-crouched, half-upright position, frozen in a bizarre posture. He didn't even realize it himself as he swallowed hard and said hoarsely:

"Chen Chong, wh-what do we do now?"

"What do you mean, what do we do?"

"Xiaoguang... Xiaoguang, he..."

Chen Chong said calmly:

"What can you do? Xiaoguang is already dead. Dead is dead. This is the black-market ring of the Wasteland, not the student gym in Lichuan."

He seemed to be speaking to Liu Hetao, but also to himself.

Liu Hetao shuddered and collapsed into his chair:

"He's really dead..."

His eyes were vacant.

The door was kicked open with a bang, and both Wang Li and Liu Hetao flinched.

"Time to go up. The order is to follow the numbers strictly."

Wang Li looked down at his number and his face crumpled into a mask of misery:

"I-I have a stomachache!"

Chen Chong walked up to him. Feeling the shadow engulf him, Wang Li couldn't stop shaking:

"No, no! I-I can't do it! Actually, I'm not some Brother Li. I'm terrified of fighting. I only left the gang because I was too scared to fight! Every time a fight broke out, I'd hide in the back. Everyone in the gang called me Rat Li, Flour Boy! I only dared to sell powder, and even then, I was afraid of being robbed by junkies! I really can't do this. I practiced boxing because I didn't want to be bullied, but even after learning it, I wouldn't dare hit a Red Stick if he stood right in front of me. I really don't dare! I'm a rat—ouch, my stomach hurts, I'm not going... huh?"

As Chen Chong yanked him, he burst into tears and snot, feeling like he was about to lose control of his bowels. But Chen Chong only gave him a tug, ripped the Number Jersey off his body, and tossed his own number 4 jersey to him.

The man in sunglasses at the door frowned and said coldly:

"The instructions say to go by number."

Chen Chong looked at him calmly:

"I am number one."

The man's eyes widened, and he initially wanted to bark a reprimand, but upon meeting Chen Chong's gaze—which was as still as a stagnant pool—he felt an inexplicable shiver run down his spine.

He looked at Chen Chong with suspicion, then silently stepped away from the doorway, muttering vaguely:

"If you're in such a rush to reincarnate, then go ahead."

Wang Li slumped in his chair, and seeing Chen Chong about to leave, he instinctively reached out:

"Don't go!"

Chen Chong did not respond, his footsteps firm as he walked toward the door.

Wang Li's face was a mess of tears and snot, making it hard to see clearly, but he could vaguely make out the silhouette of Chen Chong's back, which inexplicably felt like a suppressed volcano.

A thought suddenly occurred to him, one he found absurd himself:

Is Chen Chong actually thinking about taking Zhang Yao down?

He immediately shook his head repeatedly, thinking in despair:

The gap is just too big.

The door closed. Liu Hetao was still trembling all over, stammering:

"Will Chen Chong be okay? Will he... will he die too? If he dies, does that mean it's my turn? Not necessarily, if he dies, that's already two people dead; that should be enough for tonight."

Wang Li, already conflicted, listened to Liu Hetao's muttering and suddenly exploded in rage:

"What is this talk of dying and living? Even if you die, he won't! Chen Chong won't die!"

"But, but Li Xiaoguang is already dead. That's Zhang Yao..."

Wang Li paused for a moment, then flew into a rage and kicked Liu Hetao:

"Are you questioning Brother Li's words? There are no 'buts'!!!"

Chen Chong left the waiting room and entered the dim corridor.

He looked back; that was the exit Li Xiaoguang had yearned for.

He looked ahead, where the door at the top of the stairs stood ajar, white light spilling through the crack.

Chen Chong followed the corridor, walking forward step by step, climbed the stairs, and pushed the door open.

"Whoosh—"

A wave of explosive noise and blinding light rushed toward him. Chen Chong shielded his eyes with his hand; having suddenly emerged from a narrow, dark space into such a vast, bright area, he felt a bit disoriented.

The audience's emotions had been thoroughly ignited by the blood of the first match. Seeing a newcomer enter, they fell into a frenzy, howling loudly. Occasionally, shrieks of "Kill him" and "Die" pierced through the stands, triggering waves of cheers.

Chen Chong ignored the many arms reaching out from inches away; the front-row spectators were practically thrusting their hands into his face, and droplets of spit had already landed on his hair. He walked out of the corridor exit, reached the boxing ring in a few strides, climbed the stairs, pushed aside the ropes, and stepped inside.

He looked down at the floor, which was still slightly damp. He carefully adjusted his position, not wanting to step on it.

Zhang Yao watched Chen Chong with great interest. His blood was boiling, and he had already stripped off his jacket, leaving only his trunks. His thick chest hair and heavy beard made him look like a human bear. His height of over 1.9 meters combined with his solid muscles made him look wider than a door frame.

Compared to him, Chen Chong's physique was at least a size smaller. The audience already anticipated what was about to happen and couldn't help but cheer Zhang Yao's name loudly. Chants of "Zhang Yao," "Kill him," "Blow his head off," and "Contracted Fighter" rose one after another, and Zhang Yao wore an expression of pure enjoyment.

He looked at Chen Chong, who was carefully shifting his feet, and grinned broadly:

"The biggest waste of space is here! What are you fidgeting for? Don't tell me you've already pissed yourself? Hahahaha!"

Chen Chong finally adjusted his position so that as long as he didn't retreat, he wouldn't step on that spot.

He ignored Zhang Yao, as if the person opposite him were merely air. He turned his head to look at the referee and nodded calmly:

"You may begin."