"Gulp!"
Looking at Bai Ali on the ground, his body barely recognizable as human, every Muslim martial artist below was seized with murderous intent, their eyes stretched wide with fury. "You're asking for death!"
"Kill him!"
Amid the overlapping shouts, someone sprang out of the crowd, launching himself from level ground like a crane spreading its wings, and flashed toward Lian Youming on the platform. But as quickly as he rose, he fell even faster. Still airborne, he took a fist to the chest and flew backward like a kite with its string cut. His eyes instantly bulged, then filled with fine blood vessels. His body jerked once in struggle before going limp like a snapped string.
He died with his eyes still open.
This turn of events left the Bai Clan disciples below with bloodshot eyes, each poised to move.
The guards outside were about to rebuke them when Lian Youming waved a hand. "No matter!"
Since the man himself had spoken, the guards returned to watching coldly from the sidelines.
On the Martial Way, strength reigned supreme.
Since Lian Youming had the courage to face a crowd alone, everyone else outside was naturally happy to watch.
"I'm betting on him, the one with yellow skin and black hair!"
Ten enormous tables stood on the largest platform in the center, heaped like mountains with the stakes placed by gamblers and spectators. Others clutched bundles and stacks of US dollars or carried gold and jewels, placing bets like mad.
Below Lian Youming's platform, shouts rose on all sides, in every accent and languages from every country.
For a moment, no fewer than six figures leaped onto the platform.
There were members of the Bai Clan among them, as well as two martial artists from South Korea.
Figures darted back and