Before Gilan could speak, another male voice came from the side:
"Oh? Mr. Gilan is so certain?"
Kordel, the second son of the Propaganda Department, walked over and intentionally or unintentionally placed himself between Gilan and Dadeier, his eyes fixed on the fight behind the glass wall.
"Mr. Ewan is indeed quite skilled, but in reality, he is more proficient in cane techniques, and unarmed combat is only a secondary skill he studies."
He pointed to the man in sunglasses on the field.
"Facing Mr. Aslan, who specializes in combat techniques, his chances of winning are not high. Moreover, Mr. Aslan is a senior Emblem- level fighter who has already reached the threshold of mastery."
"He only needs to take it one step further, find his own fighting style, study it diligently, and develop his own unique techniques to become a master."
Kordel seemed to know the two opponents quite well, and his analysis was very insightful.
His words sounded more like an explanation to Miss Dadeier.
Gilan did not refute this, but instead showed interest in his eyes.
Previously, he lacked a clear understanding of the master, only assuming that it was due to his mastery of martial arts to an extraordinary level, coupled with physical qualities exceeding the Emblem level.
According to Kordel, one also needs a unique fighting style and mastery of secret techniques to be called a master.
Therefore, it seems that the crew-cut captain of the Purification Squad was not a true master. He only possessed the physique and skills of a master, but lacked the secret techniques.
Calling him a "quasi-master" might be more appropriate.
The same was true of the four cyborg guards of the Federation colonel.
"Since Gilan and Kordel both have their own opinions, how about we make a bet?"
At this moment, Prince also walked to the other side of Miss Dadeier and cast his gaze at the two of them.
"I'm betting 200 Gold Caesar on Mr. Aslan to win."
"Heh." Kordel chuckled lightly, glancing at Prince with a hint of sarcasm. " Prince, you still love to take advantage. You've heard my entire analysis; don't you have any of your own insights?"
"What a coincidence, that's what I think too. Do I need you to tell me?"
Prince shrugged and responded bluntly.
He then turned to the people on the sofa and suggested:
"Let's all place a bet! It's a rare gathering, it wouldn't be fun without some stakes!"
"Alright, Prince."
Franz smiled and echoed.
"Then I'll also bet 200 Caesar, just like you, on Mr. Aslan to win."
Seeing this, the others also obliged Prince's call and joined in the betting. Every single one of them bet at least 100 Caesar, betting entirely on Aslan to win.
The young people present were not stupid; they had some understanding of the two members who were currently fighting. Kordel's analysis was spot on; Aslan's chances of winning were clearly greater.
The fighting matches at the " Monthly Salon " are purely for entertainment purposes, with small stakes and no exaggerated odds. Furthermore, there's a betting cap of 200 Caesar, so they'll definitely choose the side with the higher odds of winning.
Seeing this, Milinda reached out and pressed the bell on the side of the sofa.
jingle.
Before long, the staff member who had been there earlier came into the private room with a small notebook. After a brief conversation, he quickly registered everyone's bets.
"Mr. Gilan, aren't you going?"
Miss Dadeier, seeing the young man in the black coat remain silent, couldn't help but ask out of curiosity.
Gilan shook her head.
"I don't like gambling," he said.
In both his past and present lives, he has never participated in gambling, whether it be for small or large sums.
Because he was well aware of the inherent weaknesses of human nature, and even more so of how desires could be amplified infinitely in gambling, ultimately turning into a man-eating beast.
"This is really boring," Kordel said indifferently.
The others just smiled.
Don't like gambling?
It's just an excuse.
An illegitimate child, I guess he's short of money.
They understood, and without a word, there were no jokes.
"I'll also bet 200 Caesar, but I'm betting on Mr. Ewan to win."
After thinking for a moment, Dadeier took out two Caesar in the denomination of "100" from a small, exquisite wallet and handed them to the uniformed girl behind her.
Everyone was somewhat surprised.
Especially the two young men, Prince and Kordel.
" Dadeier, do you really believe what he said?"
Prince frowned slightly and glanced at Gilan.
Dadeier, however, maintained her gentle smile. She glanced at the others and explained:
"Everyone's betting on Mr. Aslan, but it's only interesting if someone bets on the other side, isn't it? Besides, what if Mr. Ewan wins?"
As she spoke, she covered her mouth and chuckled softly.
Upon hearing this, the others found it difficult to offer any further advice.
It's only 200 Caesar anyway, so losing isn't a big deal.
On the contrary, Miss Dadeier deliberately "sacrificed herself" to create a lively atmosphere for the gambling game, making them more favorable towards her.
"It's alright, after this match is over, I'll give you half of the winnings, Dadeier."
Prince smiled, feigning gentlemanly politeness.
"We can't let you lose alone."
"I can do that too," Kordel said, hands in his pockets.
"Sister Dadeier, there's also a portion for Milinda!"
Milinda said with a grin.
The others chimed in, saying they would all share their winnings with Dadeier.
However, Dadeier shook her head with a smile and said:
"Thank you all in advance. But the competition isn't over yet, how can you be so sure you'll win?"
"Then let's wait and see," Kordel said confidently. "The two contestants have reached a fever pitch, and the winner will be decided soon."
Upon hearing this, everyone got up from the sofa and gathered in front of the glass wall.
They huddled together, all turning their gaze downwards, while Gilan was squeezed to the very edge.
He didn't care about that; his gaze remained fixed on the two people on the field.
The gentlemen and ladies in the first-floor stands were completely absorbed in the game, their emotions running high as they waved or raised their fists to cheer on their chosen side.
The atmosphere on the field was intense, and the game had reached a crucial moment.
With short hair, a beard, and muscular build, Mr. Aslan stepped forward and, with a snap, parried the swinging punch from the sunglasses-wearing man, Ewan, with his left hand. His face was cold as he swung a straight punch from behind.
The punch landed squarely on Ewan's abdomen.
Bang!
Ewan hunched over, vomiting stomach contents from the corner of his mouth.
" Aslan! Aslan!!"
Cheers erupted from the audience, and many people stood up, their expressions filled with excitement.
Aslan pressed his advantage, delivering a knee strike to his opponent's chest, followed by an elbow strike to Ewan's back.
Two muffled thuds struck, leaving the opponent staggering.
Anyone with eyes could see that these two heavy blows had completely crushed Ewan's last chance to fight back.
As expected, Ewan lost his balance and slowly fell to the ground.
Including the young people in the private boxes on the second floor, almost everyone in the audience had already predicted the outcome of this first combat sports match.
Aslan is destined to win.
Prince smiled, while Kordel, standing to the side, showed no reaction, as if this was all within his expectations.
But just then...
Just as Ewan was about to fall, he suddenly lunged forward.
He grabbed Aslan around the waist, and to Aslan's astonishment, he spun around and slammed him heavily onto the mat.
BOOM!!
Aslan was caught off guard by the impact and immediately lost consciousness.
The middle-aged Judge was also surprised. After a moment of hesitation, he quickly went up to the stage to announce the numbers.
The countdown continued, but Aslan still couldn't stand up.
"Mr. Ewan wins the first match of the ' Monthly Salon '!"
He announced loudly.
The entire room fell silent.