43: Chapter 43 Execution and Dignity

"Remember my words."

Lin Fan's voice was very low, audible only to the two of them. "Stay safe. If you can't hold on, just admit defeat. If you last three minutes, I'll cover all your future blind boxes."

Zhang Hao swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty.

"Three... three minutes."

He repeated the words and turned to walk toward the arena.

Every step felt like treading on cotton—weightless yet heavy.

On the opposite side.

Wang Teng was already standing there.

He wasn't holding that flashy alloy battle saber; his hands hung empty at his sides. His fingernails had taken on a bizarre purple-black hue, gleaming with a matte finish under the lights.

That handsome face was now somewhat distorted, the whites of his eyes overtaken by a murky yellow, and a trace of uncontrollable saliva hung from the corner of his mouth.

He didn't look like a person.

He looked like a beast that had been starving for three days.

"Both sides, in position!"

The referee's voice rang out.

In the stands, fifty thousand spectators held their breath. The first two matches had been uneventful; everyone was waiting for this one.

This was an execution.

A public execution of a commoner provocateur by the young master of a noble family.

*Beep—*

The whistle tore through the air.

*Boom!*

The specially reinforced floor beneath Wang Teng's feet instantly shattered.

No one even saw his movements clearly before a dark shadow crashed into Zhang Hao's chest.

Too fast.

This was not a speed a Martial Apprentice should possess.

A fist wrapped in black energy slammed unceremoniously into Zhang Hao's round belly.

*Bang!*

A dull thud echoed, like a heavy hammer striking worn leather.

Zhang Hao's facial features instantly scrunched together, his eyeballs bulging.

The massive impact sent him sliding backward.

His rubber soles rubbed violently against the arena floor, leaving two long, scorched black marks accompanied by a pungent burnt smell.

Five meters.

Zhang Hao came to a dead stop right at the edge of the arena.

He didn't fall.

His grayish-white skin glinted with a metallic luster; his B-Rank Talent, [Iron Body], was being pushed to its absolute limit.

"Cough..."

Zhang Hao opened his mouth and spat a mouthful of bile onto the ground.

It hurt.

His internal organs felt displaced, and his intestines felt as if they were tied in a knot.

The entire arena was deathly silent.

The expected instant kill had not happened.

Wang Teng froze for a split second.

A hint of tyrannical confusion flashed in those murky eyes, only to be immediately swallowed by an even more frantic rage.

"You fat pig!"

He roared and lunged forward again.

Fists.

Knees.

Elbows.

The attacks fell like a torrential storm, each strike carrying a sharp whistle that tore through the air.

Zhang Hao couldn't see the movements at all; he could only instinctively cover his head and curl himself into a giant ball of flesh.

*Bang! Bang! Bang!*

The sounds of the massive impacts were broadcast throughout the venue via the loudspeakers.

With every punch that landed, the fat on Zhang Hao's body produced violent, wave-like tremors.

Skin cracked.

Blood splattered.

But he gritted his teeth and didn't make a sound.

He couldn't fall.

Falling meant death.

Falling would bring shame to Brother Fan.

In the stands.

Lin Xiaoya covered her eyes, her body trembling slightly.

Su Qingxue reached out, gently covering Xiaoya's ears and pressing her head into her own chest.

She looked at the figure on the stage being used as a punching bag, a hint of pity flashing in her cold eyes.

This was the path of martial arts.

Cruel, bloody, and without a shred of warmth.

On the arena.

The smell of blood mixed with the stench of sweat, so thick it was nauseating.

Two minutes.

Zhang Hao felt his consciousness beginning to blur.

It felt as if two of his ribs were broken; every breath felt like inhaling a mouthful of glass shards.

"Run..."

"Just admit defeat..."

His bodily instincts were screaming.

As long as he raised a hand, as long as he shouted, this hellish pain would end.

The referee was right there, ready to intervene at any moment.

Zhang Hao's fingers twitched.

But Lin Fan's calm eyes suddenly flashed in his mind, followed by the memory of that priceless Heart of the Earth Dragon from last night.

"Hold on, and you're a tank."

"If you can't, you're just scrap metal."

He didn't want to be scrap metal.

He didn't want to be that fat guy who spent his whole life following others around just to shout '666' from the sidelines.

A low growl like a wheezing bellows came from Zhang Hao's throat, and his loosened arms once again tightly protected his head.

Just a little longer.

Just a moment more.

Having failed to break him for so long.

Wang Teng's sanity completely collapsed.

The drug's side effects began to erode his nerves; the destructive urge to tear everything apart made him lose his patience.

"Die, die, die!"

Wang Teng roared, his right hand suddenly retracting into his sleeve.

The movement was very subtle.

But in Lin Fan's eyes, the action was slowed down countless times.

The Eye of True Sight captured a glint of eerie blue light.

It was a Bone Nail.

Ground from the fangs of an Abyss Poison Beast and coated in potent poison.

"Foul!"

Lin Fan stood up abruptly, just about to speak.

On the stage, Zhang Hao moved.

Perhaps it was a near-death instinct, or perhaps it was the fat guy's unique brand of cunning.

The moment Wang Teng's right hand thrust forward, Zhang Hao, who had been passively taking the beating, suddenly released his head.

Instead of retreating, he advanced.

He thrust forward his chest, covered in bruises and bloodstains, and slammed into the Bone Nail.

*Puchi!*

The sound of a blade entering flesh was barely audible.

The Bone Nail pierced deep into Zhang Hao's left shoulder, and black poisonous blood instantly soaked through his tattered school uniform.

The skin around the wound turned a deathly gray at a visible speed.

Pain.

Heart-piercing, bone-gouging pain.

Zhang Hao's features twisted in agony, but he didn't scream; instead, he pulled back his blood-covered mouth to reveal a ferocious smile.

"Got you."

His two thick, pillar-like arms suddenly slammed shut.

He tightly locked his arms around Wang Teng's waist.

Three hundred pounds of weight.

The boost of B-Rank strength.

At this moment, Zhang Hao was no longer that timid fat guy, but an enraged Wasteland Boar.

"Up!"

Zhang Hao roared, veins bulging on his forehead.

Using momentum and his weight, he held Wang Teng and used the last shred of strength in his body to slam him backward.

A suplex.

The most primitive, brutal, and effective of moves.

Wang Teng only felt an irresistible, massive force; his feet left the ground, and his world spun.

*Boom!*

The arena shook violently.

A shallow pit was smashed into the specially reinforced floor.

Wang Teng was slammed hard onto the ground, the back of his head hitting first; he was dazed, and half the world before his eyes instantly went black.

That suffocating impact made it so he couldn't even let out a scream.

Zhang Hao pressed down on Wang Teng, panting heavily, as black-red blood dripped from the corner of his mouth onto Wang Teng's expensive face.

Three minutes.

Time was up.

Zhang Hao didn't hesitate at all, not even giving a second glance at the defeated opponent beneath him.

He let go, rolled to the side with all his might, and pulled away.

Then, he held up his intact right hand high.

"I... admit defeat!"

His voice was hoarse, crisp, and decisive.

No hesitation whatsoever.

The entire audience was stunned.

What was this?

Surrendering immediately after a desperate counterattack?

Wang Teng on the ground finally caught his breath.

Humiliation.

An unprecedented humiliation.

He had actually been slammed by a fat pig!

"I'll kill you!"

Wang Teng bounced up from the ground, the red light in his eyes almost dripping blood, lunging recklessly at the fatty who had already lost his ability to resist.

"Presumptuous!"

A cold shout rang out.

The referee's figure instantly appeared between the two.

With a single press of his hand.

An invisible airwave exploded, pinning the frenzied Wang Teng firmly in place.

"The match is over. Zhang Hao admits defeat, Wang Teng wins!"

The referee announced the result, but his gaze toward Wang Teng was full of disgust.

He had won the match.

But he had lost his character.

In the stands, after a brief silence, thunderous applause erupted.

It wasn't for the winner.

It was for the blood-covered fatty being carried away.

In the preparation area.

Lin Fan stepped forward quickly and caught Zhang Hao on the stretcher.

The fatty's face had swollen into a pig's head, and the blood flowing from the wound on his left shoulder was black, emitting a foul stench.

"Bro... Brother Fan."

Zhang Hao struggled to open a slit of an eye, pulling at the corner of his mouth, "I... didn't win. But I... didn't lose either."

"Shut up."

Lin Fan's finger rested on Zhang Hao's pulse.

Cold.

The toxin was spreading through his bloodstream.

[Detected Abyss Rot Poison (B-Rank), eroding heart meridians.]

The system notification rang out in his mind.

Lin Fan looked up at the figure still roaring madly on the stage.

His expression was very calm.

So calm it was frightening.

No harsh words, no angry roars.

Lin Fan just took out a Detoxification Pill from his pocket, stuffed it into Zhang Hao's mouth, and then gently closed his friend's eyes.

"Get some sleep."

Lin Fan stood up and brushed the dust off his hands.

His gaze pierced through the crowd, landing precisely on the gloomy-faced old man in the VIP box.

Wang Tianba.

And that mad dog Wang Teng.

Lin Fan's fingers gently rubbed together.

"We'll settle this debt slowly."