"I concede." Jian Ming looked at Xu Zimo dejectedly.
He said, "And thank you, brother, for sparing my life."
"Your swordsmanship is not pure. Think it over carefully yourself," Xu Zimo said, waving a hand.
"Thank you for your guidance, brother." Jian Ming nodded and gave a bitter smile. "Perhaps the honor I've gained in Wrath City these past few years made me lose my way."
After Jian Ming unleashed his final move, he no longer had any strength left. In the end, the arena attendants carried him away.
Seeing Jian Ming's defeated state, the spectator stands fell unusually silent.
Upon hearing the news, Nu Shi Hu personally came to the arena.
"My lord," the arena referee hurried over to pay his respects.
Nu Shi Hu waved a hand. Standing beside the spectator stands, he looked at Xu Zimo from afar and smiled. "That's the Young Man?"
"Yes. He has already won thirty matches. According to the rules, the Fusion Stones he wins will be paid at thirty times the amount," the referee quickly replied.
"My lord, if we let him keep winning, the more Fusion Stones he wins, the greater our payout multiplier will become.
"I'm afraid we'll have to stake the entire arena's yearly income."
"What are you panicking for? The arena has been open for thousands of years. What situation has it not encountered?" Nu Shi Hu snorted coldly.
"If he fails to know when to stop after gaining an advantage, then he'll have to spit back out everything he has won."
"My lord means to have someone from the Thousand Match Tier test him?" the referee asked cautiously.
"To beat a snake, strike seven inches from its head—kill with one blow. Send someone from the Ten Thousand Match Tier directly, so there are no accidents," Nu