The hoodlums gathered around Su Mo, slowly narrating the "script" for tomorrow's match to him.
In the first 11 rounds, Su Mo would fight evenly with Simpson, subtly gaining the upper hand to attract more circulating funds.
anwhile, the Red Blade Association would place all their money on Simpson.
By the 12th round, when both sides were in a stalemate, Su Mo would reveal a flaw and be KO'd by Simpson with one punch.
In this way, the money bet on Su Mo would be completely taken by Simpson, and the heavily invested Red Blade Association would naturally be the biggest beneficiary.
Afterwards, the parties would share the profits according to the agreent, with Su Mo receiving the majority.
Throughout the match, who would attack at what ti, who would have the upper hand, when the counterattack would start, how to fight... the Red Blade Association arranged the process clearly.
You wouldn't believe it, if the "script" unfolds, the final result would be more thrilling than an action movie, making it seamless while keeping the crowd entertained.
Su Mo listened and swore with determination, "I've rembered everything, I absolutely won't disappoint Scarface Boss's expectations!"
The hoodlum lit up with a smile, repeatedly reminding Su Mo before leaving, "Go practice several tis, don't ss it up tomorrow, or the boss won't be happy."
After the hoodlum left, Su Mo revealed a cunning smile.
The plan worked.
In the previous days, he gained fa through boxing, attracting attention, then deliberately approached the Red Blade Association's territory for matches.
These money-hungry leeches would definitely try to recruit him to throw the fight.
Thus, he could kill Simpson in the ring and make a fortune with the odds.
Su Mo transferred the hundreds of thousands earned from the matches and all his money in the bank to KK, then called him, "Tomorrow at 3 PM, co to the Black Boxing Arena at 32 Stone Castle Street, there's a match of mine."
"I've transferred so money to you, bet all of it on winning."
...
The next day, the Black Boxing Arena at 32 Stone Castle Street was packed, seats were hard to find, many had squeezed in before dawn to secure the best viewing spots.
Beast Simpson versus the rising newcor "Bull Warrior," such matches surely captivated attention.
Before the match started, the arena bookmaker announced the odds.
"Bull Warrior" was in the lilight, but as a newcor, the odds were 2.20.
Simpson, with a remarkable 94% career win rate and well-known fa, held a 1.50 odds.
Nurous gamblers holding Moon Currency Paper Money were placing bets at the bookmaker's counter.
Veterans of this circle leaned towards betting on Simpson; after all, the 94% win rate was formidable.
While aggressive gamblers leaned towards "Bull Warrior," hoping for a big score.
In the VIP audience section, Scarface sat with several invited guests.
A guest chuckled and said, "We've all listened to you this ti, placed heavy bets on Simpson, don't let us down."
Scarface replied with a smile, "It's all arranged."
Another guest, more cautious, asked, "What if that guy turns against us and plays us?"
Scarface smirked, "Then let Simpson kill him. The Middle Tier of Awakening's strength is there; rest assured."
They smoked cigars, hugged curvy Playboy Bunnies, chatting and laughing.
At 3:30 PM, the host appeared on the ring, full of enthusiasm, "Ladies and gentlen, today's a day to rember, we're welcoming two highly anticipated contestants."
"Firstly, our famous ace, undefeated in 51 bouts since debut, a staggering 94% career win rate; let's welco our Beast—Simpson!"
A man with the physique akin to a black bear ran onto the ring, his muscles crisscrossing like protruding hills, emanating explosive power.
Simpson ran around the ring, unleashing a deafening roar to the audience, his fists suddenly turning a bizarre dark black.
"Bang!!!" Those iron fists clashed in the air, creating a tallic clang, declaring the power of Middle Tier Awakening "Molten Iron Blood Code."
"Whoa—" Seeing the Blood Code power, the audience erupted, the hall roared like an ocean.
The host turned to the other side of the ring, raising his voice, "And the other contestant, the newcor who swept the arena like a storm these days, undefeated until now! Let's welco our super rookie, Bull! Warrior!"
Wearing a bull headgear, Su Mo leapt onto the stage, greeting the audience with raised fists, evoking cheers.
His physique was vastly different from Simpson's but his record commanded respect; nobody underestimated him.
According to the script, Simpson widened his eyes and started with pre-match trash talk, "I'll beat you to a pulp, little bull!"
Su Mo replied fiercely, "Brains are good stuff, but yours is about to turn into a bowl!"
The host cheerfully shouted, "Great! Both contestants are in high spirits! Last confirmation, are you ready?"
Simpson raised his fists, let out a piercing roar, signaling readiness.
Su Mo glanced towards the audience, his gaze landing on KK in the crowd.
KK nodded discreetly, indicating the bets were placed.
Su Mo raised his fists in response, signifying readiness.
"Then—the match officially begins!!!" The host's words fell, ringing the bell of the match.
On opposite ends of the ring, Su Mo and Simpson eyed each other fiercely, their fighting spirit and pressure spreading as if two invisible walls collided.
Perhaps their oppressive aura was too heavy, in the few seconds after the match bell rang, the audience fell silent, each person wide-eyed, holding their breath, afraid to miss anything.
"Roar!" Until the first battle cry rang out, the atmosphere reignited.
Simpson was the first to launch an attack, his muscles tensing, right arm bulging noticeably, swinging a fierce hook punch at Su Mo.
According to the script, Su Mo was supposed to block and take the punch.
After all, what the audience wanted to see was tough guys trading blows, punch by punch.
If anyone in the Black Boxing Arena played for points, they'd be cursed.
With the script in place, Simpson focused solely on throwing punches, never considering unexpected situations, his mind filled with the "performance" after this punch.
But who knew, Su Mo didn't block the punch directly, he dodged the attack lightning-fast, stepped forward, and slamd a fierce punch into Simpson's face.
"Thud!"
Simpson, caught off guard, took the heavy punch, blood spurting from his mouth and nose, his front teeth crooked.
In an instant, the audience showed completely different reactions.
Those who bet on Su Mo plunged into ecstasy.
Those who bet on Simpson cursed his family.
In the VIP section, several guests looked uneasy.
Scarface quickly comforted them, "It's a rookie; maybe he's nervous, forgot what he rehearsed; he'll adjust!"
On stage, Simpson steadied himself, shocked and angry, questioning Su Mo with his eyes why he went off-script.
Su Mo blinked repeatedly, indicating he'd made a mistake, lowering his guard a bit, gesturing for Simpson to attack.
Simpson resigned himself to his bad luck, took the secretly suffered loss, and attacked Su Mo again.
This ti, Su Mo followed the script, taking several hits in succession, the sound of fists colliding and arms clashing echoed, his body retreating repeatedly under the blows.
Scarface smiled to the guests, "Look, it's starting."
The guests finally nodded with satisfaction.
At this mont, the audience's attitude also polarize.
Those betting on Simpson began cheering.
Those betting on Su Mo started venting their frustration.
After a set of combination punches, Simpson turned with a spinning kick aid directly at Su Mo's head.
According to the script, Su Mo should take the hit and fall, allowing Simpson to temporarily take the lead.
But unexpectedly, Su Mo again made an unexpected move, stepping back and dodging the spinning kick, then striding forward and delivering a hook punch to Simpson's ribs.
"Thud!!"
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