The fighting maniac was sent flying, his body crashing into the wall of the ring and sliding straight down, no longer making a sound.

“Winner: One Punch Blood, points +638.”

The entire fighting hall fell silent in an instant. Everyone’s faces showed disbelief; just a moment ago, they were cheering excitedly, and the next, it was as if someone had grabbed them by the throat—they couldn’t utter another word.

In the corner of the rest area, Quentin King and Edward Brooks shot to their feet, both of them looking utterly shocked.

“[Bear Ape Slam], a mastery-level [Bear Ape Slam]!” Quentin King muttered to himself. “This One Punch Blood, he shouldn’t know this combat technique. Otherwise, when he fought Butcher just now, he wouldn’t have…”

Quentin King had watched the fight with Butcher closely. If One Punch Blood had mastered [Bear Ape Slam], there was no way Butcher could have landed a hit.

Edward Brooks habitually adjusted his glasses, his hand trembling slightly from excitement. “That’s right! One Punch Blood didn’t know [Bear Ape Slam] before, but now he does. He only experienced it once, and now he’s mastered it. This, this…”

The two exchanged a glance, and Quentin King’s eyes immediately turned red. He panted and growled in a low voice, “Edward Brooks, let me have this One Punch Blood, what do you say? Next time we find promising talent, I’ll give up 10—no, 20 spots.”

“Give up 20 spots for me?” Edward Brooks sneered. “Quentin King, how about this? I’ll give you 100 spots, and you let me have One Punch Blood, how about that?”

“You!”

Quentin King glared, and the two stared each other down, neither willing to back off, as if they might come to blows at any moment.

On the top floor of the Starry Sky Fighting City, a young man in a white uniform leaned back slowly on the sofa, watching the frozen image on the screen. “He only experienced [Bear Ape Slam] once, and was able to master it in the second fight, even reaching the mastery stage. That’s deduction-level comprehension!”

Beside him, George Brooks bowed slightly. “Young master, this One Punch Blood has already attracted a lot of attention.”

The young man in white nodded and smiled. “Invite One Punch Blood up here, but don’t attract attention.”

“Yes, sir.”

Inside the fighting hall on the first floor, chaos had broken out. Many people rushed out from the rest area, searching through the “virtual fighting machines” one by one, trying to find the real One Punch Blood.

Clearly, it wasn’t just Quentin King and Edward Brooks who had noticed this fight; many others had the same idea.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard they searched, no one found the person with the codename One Punch Blood, because William Clark had already been quietly led out of the hall by a silver-haired old man, entering a special elevator leading to the top floor of Starry Sky Fighting City.

In the elevator, William Clark was still immersed in the recent battle, replaying the moment he defeated the fighting maniac in his mind.

[Bear Ape Slam]! Was that [Bear Ape Slam] really performed by himself? When did he ever learn this combat technique?

William Clark’s thoughts were a mess. [Bear Ape Slam] was a first-class combat technique he’d never had the qualifications or opportunity to learn before. How did he just use it so naturally just now?

Looking down at his hands, William Clark found it hard to believe the changes in himself. He was already certain that what happened in the ancestral house wasn’t a dream. But what exactly was going on? Could that square seal engraved with a dragon pattern really exist? If he told anyone, not only would no one believe him—even if they did, he’d probably end up as a lab rat.

Wait!

William Clark suddenly snapped out of it, realizing he was standing dazed in the elevator, with a silver-haired old man in a black tailcoat beside him, bowing and smiling at him.

“This old guy isn’t some mad scientist who likes to dissect people, is he?” William Clark tightened his collar, feeling a chill on the back of his neck, and forced a laugh. “Sir, where are we going?”

George Brooks bowed slightly, his attitude respectful. “Sir, my young master would like to meet you.” Seeing William Clark’s doubtful expression, George Brooks added with a smile, “My young master is the owner of Starry Sky Fighting City.”

“The owner of Starry Sky Fighting City?” William Clark’s heart skipped a beat, and he blurted out, “Winner Takes All?”

Regarding the owner of Starry Sky Fighting City, as far as William Clark knew, no one had ever seen his true face. However, everyone who frequented Starry Sky Fighting City knew one fact.

The number one expert in Starry Sky Fighting City was also its owner, codename: Winner Takes All.

Five years ago, when William Clark first came to Starry Sky Fighting City, Winner Takes All’s points were already 150,000. That number hadn’t changed in five years, and no one had ever surpassed it, because after watching Winner Takes All’s past battles, many people lost the courage to challenge him.

William Clark was stunned for a moment, then quickly composed himself and said no more. Although he was just a small fry at Nanying Academy, even small fry have their own survival rules—showing panic would only invite more bullying.

George Brooks bowed respectfully, smiling without a word. A hint of surprise flashed in his half-closed eyes—this young man’s composure in the face of change was truly rare.

The elevator stopped at the top floor. William Clark followed George Brooks out and was amazed by the luxurious decor he saw.