The host’s voice had hardly faded when, with a sudden aggressive montum, a blood disciple kneeled on the ground with a loud thud.
"My God, what happened? Could it be that the ground was too slippery? The blood disciple actually kneeled on the ground."
"This is the first accident of its kind in the history of the ring. The blood disciple was about to get up when the newcor just stood there, with no intention of kicking an opponent when he’s down. He must have been scared silly, completely unacclimated to the environnt of the ring."
"Opportunities flash by in an instant, the blood disciple stood up, but the newcor is still stunned. Is he completely frozen in fear?"
The host spoke rapidly, matching the pace of a drunk man drinking alone. Suddenly the atmosphere in the ring was heightened, and many of the audience mbers who were heckling turned to watch.
"What’s this nonsense?"
"Exactly, it’s too fake, creating this kind of suspense."
"Could this be a trap set by the bookmakers on purpose? The odds for this match are ridiculously high."
"High as they may be, I didn’t place a bet."
"Neither did I."
Thud.
"The blood disciple stood up. Although the false fall just now was completely baffling or maybe, the blood disciple was just trying to add so suspense, make the match more thrilling. It only looks like they’re throwing the fight, being too obvious about it."
The blood disciple stood up, his eyes cold and nacing as he looked towards Li Feng.
"I’m going to kill you."
"The blood disciple is enraged and even threatens to kill the newcor. Beyond being a sadistic killer, he also harbors a chilling indifference towards n, and what follows will be extrely uncomfortable..."
"Blood disciple, beat him up."
Stirred up by the host, the previously complaining audience suddenly lost their complaints and regained interest in the match.
"Right, beat him up."
"Haha, you dare to hit, I dare to reward."
"Tsk, you freak."
"It seems everyone is eagerly awaiting what the blood disciple will do next. So, will our blood disciple fulfill everyone’s little expectation?"
"The blood disciple lunged at his opponent with a great move, ’Hungry Tiger Pounces on Prey.’ Can our newcor withstand the blood disciple’s volcanic enthusiasm?"
Thud.
Suddenly the blood disciple’s legs gave way, and he prostrated before Li Feng, interrupting what was ant to be a climactic mont for the audience.
"I’ve stripped down for this, and you show this?"
"Dare you be so blatantly throwing the fight?"
"Refund the tickets."
Li Feng looked indifferently at the blood disciple who had the audacity to drop his guard, thinking him a fool.
Li Feng’s previous slap was like hitting a cow across the mountain, striking directly at the opponent’s heart, causing it to collapse. He could still endure for about ten seconds, all because the opponent’s heart was a bit off-position, missing the precise hit.
The host, seeing the blood disciple unmoving, knew he was not just a serial killer; in the previous three matches, he brutally killed three boxers. Taking down a pretty boy should have been an easy task.
Could it be that after such a ga, the blood disciple was brought to his knees by a single slap from his opponent?
Is this so kind of joke?
The host, looking at the blood disciple sticking his butt in the air, shouted across the cage: "Blood disciple? Blood disciple?" There was no response.
Li Feng walked forward, stepping on the blood disciple’s body, while the blood disciple remained motionless.
"What’s going on?"
"The blood disciple lost?"
"What the hell is going on here?"
"Oh my God, the blood disciple is dead. Did he kill himself from the fall?" The host announced the results loudly and frantically, and the idea of the blood disciple killing himself seed more believable than being killed by Li Feng’s punch.
"Killed by a fall?"
"Is the bookmaker ssing with us?"
"This is insulting our intelligence, refund our money!"
Killed by a fall?
Li Feng’s lips curved into a smirk. He felt like giving the host a thumbs-up for his cleverness.
"Everyone, please quiet down, I’m Kang Lan."
Taking the microphone from the host, Kang Lan addressed the agitated crowd: "I believe everyone recognizes , Kang Lan. I have only one question, do I look like an idiot to you?"
Kang Lan swept his cold gaze across the ring. "Please, give a little ti, and I will provide everyone with a reasonable explanation. Also, regarding the previous match, winners will still be paid, and losers will receive a full refund."
With this push and pull, the onlookers all simred down.
The man before them, young master Lan, was an arrogant figure, and with the kind of background his family had, nobody ordinary could possibly manage to run such a fight club.
This wasn’t just another entertainnt venue.
Several doctors in white coats and masks appeared on the birdcage stage and flipped the body over, examining the blood disciple.
Monts later.
A doctor approached Kang Lan’s side: "Young master Lan."
Kang Lan looked at the doctor, who seed hesitant, growing impatient: "Out with it."
"Young master Lan, there are no obvious external injuries on his body, and from the surface, it’s hard to tell."
"Hard to tell?"
"It might be a heart problem. After all, this kind of fight is an intense stimulus to the adrenal glands, so...!"
Kang Lan grabbed the doctor’s collar: "Are you joking with ? The blood disciple was checked before, and in the previous three matches, he had no such illnesses. Now you’re telling he had a heart condition?"
"And so conveniently he gets ill now? Do you think I’m an idiot?"
"Young master Lan, I didn’t an that. There’s really no sign of external injury, no broken ribs; the only possibility to suddenly interrupt action and even cause death in a normal person would be this."
"If young master Lan would give us so ti to do an autopsy, we could probably find out how he really died."
Kang Lan, looking at the doctor sweating profusely, said: "By the ti you finish the analysis, my patience will have grown cold. Get out of my way."
Kang Lan glanced at Li Feng in the cage, and taking up the microphone, declared: "Ladies and gentlen, according to the doctor’s diagnosis, the blood disciple was beaten to death."
"What’s the joke?"
"Is it true?"
"Do I, Kang Lan, look like soone who plays jokes? Do you think there’s a single weakling on this birdcage stage?"
"I’ll tell you this, it took a lot of effort to bring this expert back. Enough talk, the second match is about to begin, and his opponent will be Tyrant. Place your bets quickly." Kang Lan finished speaking and handed the microphone back to the host.
"If you dare spout nonsense again, I’ll stuff this microphone up your ass."
The host wiped the sweat from his forehead: "Ladies and gentlen, the next fighter to enter the ring is the human crushing machine known as Tyrant."
Li Feng stroked his chin; the fight club had a significant amount of power to have gotten hold of a serial killer.
"Hey!"
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