The next day was the day I was to leave. In the morning, they were still training as usual. For the first time in three years, I woke up after seven o'clock. The night before, Shawn Benson hugged me tightly, patted my back, and said, "Just wait, I will definitely come find you all!" I nodded, "We will definitely wait for you to come!" At 7:30 in the morning, an assistant instructor came to the dormitory and called me, "Lie Feng, the spaceship is almost here!" I stood up, grabbed the packed bag beside me, and followed him out.

It was the same landing site as when I arrived. At eight o'clock, a civilian spaceship landed on the site with a deafening roar. Other than the assistant instructor, no one came to see me off. "Hiss—" The main cabin door of the spaceship slid open, and a figure stood at the entrance, waving at me. I picked up the bag at my feet, the assistant instructor handed me my documents and credentials, and I tucked them hastily under my arm and ran toward the spaceship. The joy of finally leaving this place was overwhelming—I couldn't help but throw myself into the embrace of freedom!

As soon as I boarded the spaceship, the figure I had seen below reached out a hand to me: "Hello, welcome to the ranks of the Alliance fighters! My name is Abner, full name Peter Abner. I am a senior director at the Alliance Free Fighting Operations Company, and I am also your agent. In addition, I think you'll be happy to hear—I'm also the agent for your friends Marcus and Hogan!" "What!" Oh my god, after all the hardships I've been through, fate has given me such a huge surprise! I actually have the same agent as the two of them? I had only ever heard that Marcus's agent was the best in the entire Alliance, but I never knew who it was, let alone that he was also Hogan's agent! This is great—it means I might not have to face them in the ring. Generally, a black market fighter's agent won't arrange for two of their own fighters to compete against each other, because every fighter is a valuable asset to the agent, and losing one is a financial loss. "Hello!" I hurriedly reached out to shake his hand, while carefully sizing up the man said to be the best agent in the Alliance—he was slightly plump, with a round face, small nose and eyes, and my first impression was that he looked like a genial businessman. Indeed, he had the perfect face for an agent. Abner smiled at me and said, "Hehe, Marcus and Hogan are my best fighters, and they strongly recommended you to me. As soon as I got your information, I decided to take you on—after all, I snatched you from Frank's hands, and old Frank is really mad at me!" He burst out laughing after he finished, and I laughed too.

Abner led me into the spaceship and took me to the cabin he had arranged for me. It was very spacious and well-equipped, with all kinds of fitness equipment—very important for a fighter, since you have to maintain your physical condition at all times. It seemed Abner was indeed very experienced. He took out a stack of documents and said to me, "Your performance at the Maloka training camp has allowed you to advance directly to the senior-level matches. This is your first opponent, scheduled for one month from now, on the planet Slate. This is your first match, so you have to win it beautifully!" I took the opponent's file, opened it, and looked: the opponent was a fighter who had just advanced from the intermediate to the senior level, named James Nelson, nicknamed "Fire Tiger," 1.81 meters tall, weighing 85 kilograms, with a squat of 360 kilograms, a bench press of 180 kilograms, and six kicks per second. His specialty was his outstanding kicking technique and incredible speed, but his weakness was a lack of heavy striking power—out of 130 matches, he had only won 30 by killing his opponent. This was normal; the fatality rate in intermediate and lower-level matches wasn't very high, and since he wasn't good at heavy strikes to begin with, such a record was already impressive. His record was 126 wins out of 130 matches, with 30 victories by killing his opponent. I smiled slightly—so, he's a kicking specialist? That's just perfect.