There were all kinds of betting options here, but the most popular was betting on those who successfully defended the ring.
For experts who had occupied the number 1 position for years, their win rate was so high that the odds on their victory had fallen to a shocking 100:1.
In other words, bet 100 dollars, and even if you won, you could only earn 1 dollar.
But if you bet on number 1 losing, the odds soared as high as 1:200.
As long as you guessed right, 1 dollar could turn into 200.
People in the stands held up their chips and roared out the numbers of the contestants they supported.
Their faces were filled with greed and fanaticism, as though they themselves, rather than the fighters, were about to step into the ring and risk their lives.
Tang Hao stood at the entrance to the passageway, watching the madness before him.
This scene was so similar to the Spirit Dueling Arena of years past, yet it carried a few more traces of undisguised brutality and filth.
All thirty contestants had arrived, and the atmosphere was so heavy it seemed possible to wring water from it.
Sitting in position 01 was Zhao Tiankuo, the orthodox inheritor of Jiang City's Baji Quan.
He had run a martial arts school and taught disciples in Jiang Prefecture for many years, and the title of Martial Arts Grandmaster had long spread throughout Jiang City.
At that moment, Zhao Tiankuo sat upright in an antique Grand Tutor's Chair, sternly instructing several disciples behind him whose faces were full of reverence.
"Do you know why the martial way has declined?"
"It is because the practical killing techniques of the past have turned into flashy, decorative moves for people to admire!"
"Martial arts and the martial