My opponent was already warming up on the ring, Abner patted me, and I jumped up. Seeing both fighters in place, the announcer began loudly reading out the basic information: “James Nelson, nicknamed ‘Fire Tiger’, height 1.81 meters, weight 85 kilograms, squats 360 kilograms, bench presses 180 kilograms, six kicks per second, 130 matches with 30 knockouts!” The gamblers who had bet on him cheered, shouting encouragement—clearly, they favored his experience. James Nelson raised his hands and circled the ring, swinging his fists and throwing a few kicks. “Lie Feng, nicknamed ‘Iron Crocodile’, height 1.83 meters, weight 89 kilograms, squats 610 kilograms, bench presses 300 kilograms, seven kicks per second, from the Mallorca Training Camp, directly qualified for high-level matches by knocking out the Vonn Python—this is his first match.” The gamblers who had bet on me cheered; they were impressed by the stats on my profile. Immediately, some of the gamblers who had bet on James Nelson started whistling, and then people began to curse at each other—obviously, the two groups of gamblers were trading insults. I saw Connor at ringside shake his head, and several burly men behind him walked over to the arguing gamblers. The chaos quickly subsided.

In this ring, there are no referees, only the bell. When the bell rings, the match officially begins and only ends when one side goes down. James Nelson and I stood facing each other. He looked at me, and I looked at him—both of us expressionless. After the announcer arranged us, he left the ring. As soon as he stepped off, the bell rang—“DONG!”—and the match began!

Chapter Ten

The bell hadn’t even finished echoing when James Nelson launched two kicks, left and right, almost without pause. I dodged back, he stepped forward and unleashed a flurry of kicks, and I retreated again. Some people in the crowd started whistling, the gamblers backing James Nelson cheered loudly, while those who bet on me started cursing. I remained unmoved. James Nelson’s fourth kick came—a sweeping kick. This time, I didn’t retreat. I reached out my right hand and slapped his leg. He pulled back his right leg and swung his left. When my right hand hit his leg, I felt only a slight tremor—his legs were indeed fast, but clearly lacked power. I made up my mind. As his fifth kick came, I didn’t dodge or retreat. I raised my left leg and swept it out, striking his head with perfect timing. James Nelson, who had just been attacking wildly, fell to the canvas with a thud, stiff as a board. I withdrew my leg, didn’t even look at James Nelson lying on the ring, and turned to step down.

The gamblers and spectators all around were stunned, not understanding what had just happened. The announcer got on the ring, pressed his hand to James Nelson’s neck, and said, “Dead!” I had already reached the corridor and pushed open the locker room door. Behind me, the first sound was applause. I looked back and saw a man in a gray suit sitting in the front row, smiling and clapping for me. Then all kinds of sounds—cheers, curses, applause—rose up like a tide. I stepped into the locker room and slammed the door shut, leaving all the noise outside.

Abner rushed in and gave me a big hug. “Lie Feng, well done! You really didn’t let me down! Hahaha…” I gave a slight smile. “It was just James Nelson, is it really worth getting so excited?” “No!” said Abner. “No, this was your first match. You know, most fighters have a hard time adapting in their first match, so they rarely perform at their best. It’s really rare to see someone like you, who knocks out the opponent in such a shocking instant. You’re going to become a demon king one day! You have that potential!” “A demon king?” I thought of Marcus. After the match, Abner paid me fifty thousand cosmic credits, paid Connor thirty thousand for the venue, and who knows how much he made himself. For the first time in my life, I had so much money. Honestly, I was a bit excited, lying on my bed, turning over and over, thinking about how to spend it: should I buy Uncle Brandon a new health device, or get myself that “military vehicle” combat helmet I’d always wanted?