Counterfeit Hero

Chapter 245: Volume 4, Chapter 28, Betrayal (8)

The clamor was like the roar of warships, and the arched grandstand facing the room offered a full view of the Duel Arena.

The whole fighting arena surrounded a gradually ascending octagonal shape, honeycomb-like glass stands densely arranged all around. Every window was a world of madness, packed with frantic nobles. At that moment, where were the nobles’ ball etiquette and grace? All their madness had been triggered by the bloody fights in the arena. Like a group of frenzied demons driven to the brink, they collectively waved their fists clutching betting slips, intoxicated and hysterical.

In the huge fighting arena at the bottom, a bloody duel was being staged!

The circular sandy arena was lit by enormous spotlights from all around, every detail visible. Between the central circular Duel Arena and the fighting arena’s walls, a ring-shaped area existed, divided into eight sections. In each small section, pairs of fighters were locked in combat!

This was neither a boxing match nor an underground fight. It was the most ferocious and savage, real killing!

Amid flying dust, the prisoners screamed, eyes red with rage. Every punch, every kick was delivered with utmost brutality. The walls around the arena were covered with startling blood stains, most of them splatters, some were large patches where a head had been slammed against the wall or where someone had slid down the wall, leaving traces.

In the arena, some prisoners couldn’t lift their arms, gritting their teeth, struggling to hang on. Another prisoner had his leg fractured by an opponent, clutching his leg contorted at a bizarre angle, screaming desperately, sounding like a wounded beast, pitiful and hopeless.

None of their opponents showed any mercy.

On the contrary, those who had the upper hand were pressing forward with beastly brutality, showing no mercy in their attacks, targeting the weakest spots. Until the opponent surrendered, or blood and froth spewed from their lips, a sign that the opponent could no longer resist. His internal organs severely damaged, without timely rescue, there was only one fate - dying with convulsions in the dust under the cold gaze of the opponent, amidst the nobles’ frenzied shouts.

The dying prisoners’ final marks on this world were only the frothy blood stains on the mud and the traces left as they were dragged away like dead dogs, bodies raking across the sand.

No sympathy, no pity. In this world, all beautiful words about humanity were but a mockery.

Ann Lei stared blankly at the glass on the grandstand, watching a familiar figure lying quietly on site three, motionless. Blood flowed from his nostrils and mouth, frothing, staining the mud around his head black and red. His naked torso was covered in mud and footprints, his black hair messy and filthy like a bird’s nest smashed by bricks. One of his hands still held a protective posture over his head.

Ann Lei’s world went quiet; the huge noise of the Duel Arena vanished. In her eyes, there was only that lifeless body. Tears uncontrollably slid down her eyes, and her knuckles pressed against the glass lost their color from the intense grip.

Susan immediately noticed Ann Lei’s extreme grief, watching her bean-sized tears fall. Unbelievingly, she followed Ann Lei’s gaze where the mechanic named Zhang Yuan lay quietly in the dirt, humble and small. His opponent sat less than five meters away from him, resting, ready to face other competitors.

Susan felt her strength drain, kneeling slowly before the glass of the grandstand, her mind blank. She watched helplessly as her best friend stepped into a nightmare, powerless to save him. The end was already destined, everything, irrevocable.

The two girls stared blankly in the man’s world, unnoticed, their tears unable to stop the tragic duel.

The slaughter continued, another prisoner had crumbled under the opponent’s fierce assaults. This less tall prisoner lost all ability and will to resist, unable even to let out a moan, as his tall, robust opponent repeatedly struck his head with large fists. Blood splattered in the air from the wounds on his temples, cheekbones, and nose bridge. A few seconds later, the staggering prisoner finally fell with a crash. His head hit the sandy ground heavily, bounced up, and fell again, losing his life.

This was the last fallen opponent, and as he fell, the fighting arena erupted in cheers. As several partition walls retracted into the arena’s boundary walls, the original eight sections turned into four. The second phase of the competition began.

Prisoners who surrendered exited through a dog-hole-like opening, and the dead prisoners remained in place. In this brutal match, these corpses were merely props. Props that stirred the nobles to trembling ecstasy. Such bloody scenes could awaken the most violent, gruesome elements suppressed deep within any noble, making the competition more thrilling.

When the partition walls retracted, the prisoners from the adjacent fighting arenas rushed at each other like fierce beasts merged into one cage, attacking savagely with their hands, feet, knees, and teeth, tearing at each other. Here, there’s no strategy, no tactics; these prisoners must use all their strength and momentum to overpower the opponent. Whoever gets intimidated by the other will mercilessly be destroyed.

After a bloody and fierce battle, the partition walls of the arena changed again, turning four fighting arenas into two semicircular arenas. The four prisoners who had just won would face new opponents without any breathers.

At this point, the prisoners were already exhausted. When the partition walls opened, they could see each other. However, unlike in the previous two rounds, they did not immediately rush up. Each of them panted, desperately trying to recover some strength, knowing they were up against bloodthirsty mad dogs.

Susan kept her eyes fixed on Zhang Yuan’s opponent, a tall man covered in tattoos. Evidently, he possessed rich battle experience, his strikes swift and decisive. During the exchange of blows, each punch aimed straight at the opponent’s vital spots: the throat, eyes, groin, and back of the head. His techniques were venomous and brutal, his attacks fierce. He also had strong resistance to strikes; there were several times Susan thought he would be knocked down, but he remained unfazed.

Susan had never hated someone so much. She didn’t know the deceased mechanic personally, but she knew her best friend was crying in sorrow, watching her lover lie in the fighting arena, reduced to a cold corpse. And the cause of all this was that sinful prisoner. He had single-handedly destroyed Ann Lei’s hope!

The tattooed man started to move; among all the remaining prisoners, he had the best stamina. In the first round of the duel, he had taken less than three minutes to kill the fatty who was flinging Turtle Boxing, earning more rest time than anyone else.

He quickly approached his new opponent, who was still catching their breath, maintaining a calm and composed demeanor. Like a dangerous viper, he slithered coldly, ready to strike a fatal blow as soon as he got within reach.

His opponent sensed the danger, swiftly adjusting their posture, watching the tattooed man’s every move with vigilance.

When the short distance between them finally disappeared, the two of them attacked each other without hesitation. All the power in their bodies surged forth, and the sound of punches landing on their heads was terrifying. Blood dripped from their faces, which were already obscured by dried blood and dirt, becoming even more grotesque and horrifying.

Eventually, the tattooed man’s stamina gave him the upper hand. When he dodged his opponent’s overly forceful attack and landed a heavy punch on the opponent’s head, almost everyone heard the dull thud, like a hammer smashing a watermelon. Blood splattered on the partition walls, and the tattooed man’s opponent instantly fell into unconsciousness, collapsing heavily to the ground like a torn sack.

The tattooed man did not stop; amidst the coach’s continuous surrender pleas, he walked slowly to his opponent’s side, kicking again and again, always targeting the head. In this duel arena, there was no such thing as simultaneous surrender by a ”coach” and ”contestant”; no one could leave. This rule had driven many forced contestants to die in despair.

The tattooed man’s opponent had stopped breathing, his head kicked beyond recognition. Susan looked at Ann Lei, whose eyes were empty and vacant, her nails digging into her palms. She finally understood how Mechanic Zhang Yuan had been beaten to death!

So cruel, so bloody, so outrageous! She looked around, at the glass stand where the hysterical noblemen were, feeling her heart grow colder and sink to the bottom. Gazalin, this is Gazalin!

Her gaze passed over the crowd to the top row of the golden stand.

Father, is this your favorite entertainment?

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I’m not being lazy and not titling the Chapters; these sections are originally under a big title.

Do you remember Philip’s words?

(To be continued. For more Chapters, please log in to WWW.CMFU.COM, support the author, and read genuine content!)