My opponent James Nelson arrived the day before yesterday. Over the past few days, he’s come to get used to the venue a few times. I haven’t run into him—I’ve deliberately avoided him, so that when we meet in the ring, I can be even more ruthless. According to what Connor told me this morning, that guy is trash compared to me. Although his kicks are fast, they have no power; when he kicks the striking pad, it doesn’t even budge. He’s even more convinced than I am that as long as I can land a kick on him, he’s done for. I just smiled, thanked him for his confidence in me, and walked away. I don’t like him. Even though he treats me well, it’s only because I can make money for him. If another fighter could beat me and bring him a fortune in cosmic credits, he’d treat that person just as well—same goes for my manager. I’m well aware of this.

My match is scheduled for eight o’clock tonight. At noon today, Connor directed people to set up the ring in the center of the training hall using synthetic plastic, and arranged five rows of chairs one meter away from the ring. I counted—a total of 180 seats, all prepared for the wealthy who are truly here to watch the fight. The chairs are luxury seats from the largest furniture company in the universe, Dynasty Furniture. Each seat costs about 200,000, extremely expensive, but for these tycoons who own massive interstellar corporations, it’s nothing. Just from ticket sales, that’s over 36 million, but as the one fighting in the ring, I only get 50,000. I cursed silently—damn, what a rip-off! Behind these seats are the spots for the gamblers. They don’t have seats, and their tickets are cheaper, only 50,000, but these people are wealthy too. They don’t need to sit and watch the fight, because all they care about is the result, not the process.

At 7:30, Connell was outside greeting guests and keeping the gamblers in order. I sat in the locker room with my legs apart, while Abner kept encouraging me, and a few assistants he brought massaged my muscles. We don’t wear gloves, so the locker room is really just a lounge. Abner kept saying, “Hunter Wind, hit his head hard, I believe in you, you’ll do great…” Time ticked by. In here, there was none of the noise from outside. I stayed silent, eyes calmly fixed ahead. As Abner was talking, Connor suddenly pushed the door open and came in. Abner asked in surprise, “What are you doing here?” Kennedy said excitedly, “Abner, guess who’s here?” “Who?” Connor said excitedly, “Donald Rowan! Donald Rowan is here!” Abner didn’t react at first: “Which Donald Rowan?” Connor said, “Which other Donald Rowan? The Donald Rowan!” Abner’s eyes lit up with wild joy: “You mean the president of the universe’s largest interstellar transport company, ‘Oceanic Transport’, Donald Rowan?” Connor laughed, “Haha! That’s right, it’s him!” Abner said excitedly, “He’s the third richest man in the universe! Haha, he’s come to watch our fight. Connor, are you sure you’re not mistaken?” “Of course not! I see him on TV all the time!” Abner said, “That’s great! If he’s watching our fight, we’re going to make a fortune! Hey, didn’t he never watch underground fights before? Why is he here today?” Connor grinned slyly, “How should I know? Maybe he’s not doing so well lately and wants some excitement!” Then he straightened his face and asked Abner, “So, do you want to go meet him?” Abner thought for a moment and said, “If he’s here, it’s definitely not as simple as you think—let’s go meet him!” Abner and Connor left. I muttered to myself, “Donald Rowan, huh, the third richest man in the universe. What’s he doing here…”

Time slipped by unnoticed. Suddenly, Abner burst in: “Hunter Wind, it’s time, you’re up!” I was stunned for a moment, then stood up a bit mechanically. The assistants behind me draped a robe over my shoulders, and Abner walked with me out. Outside, the shouts were deafening. The corridor was packed with gamblers who had bet on me, all craning their necks and yelling at me, basically telling me to finish off my opponent quickly. Some even shouted that if I lost, they’d hire a hitman to kill me. I walked down the corridor expressionless. In their eyes, I wasn’t a person, just a “die” in their hands. And in my eyes, they were nothing but a bunch of maggot-like parasites.