252: Chapter 248 Life-or-Death Struggle

Song Yang's figure appeared at the entrance of the tunnel.

Compared to the four-armed Dead Hand, he looked somewhat frail.

With no exaggerated muscles or fierce expression, he simply walked calmly into the center of The Arena, looking less like he was there for a life-and-death struggle and more like he was taking a stroll in a park.

This calmness caused the clamor in The Arena to freeze for a momentary heartbeat.

The light in the Host's three eyes grew even more intense:

"Oh? It seems our newcomer is quite confident! Well then, ladies and gentlemen of the audience, who do you favor more? The betting channels are about to close. Place your bets now; the chance to get rich overnight is right before your eyes!"

On the holographic screen above The Arena, the numbers beneath the two names skipped rapidly.

Supporters for [Song the Madman]: just over three hundred thousand.

Supporters for [Dead Hand]: already over four million and still climbing.

The odds had been pushed to a staggering disparity.

Dead Hand cracked the joints of his four arms, making a series of clicking sounds. He looked down at Song Yang from his height, baring a mouthful of metallic teeth:

"You're unlucky to have run into me today. I'm going to rip your bones out one by one and turn them into collectibles."

Dong—!

The bell signaling the start of the battle echoed throughout The Arena.

Dead Hand's feet suddenly exerted force, his heavy body driving the airflow as he charged straight at Song Yang.

He wasn't just charging in a reckless straight line; those four thick arms were flying up and down during the charge like a precision meat grinder.

This kind of pure, life-risking slaughter was the feast he enjoyed most.

Crushing a life under the protection of the rules without having to bear any consequences.

The cheers from the stands reached a new peak. They anticipated the scene of flesh and blood flying, the moment the newcomer would be torn to pieces by those four arms.

"It's over,"

The jewel-bedecked fat man said, taking a sip of wine and speaking with certainty to his female companion. "This newcomer's courage is bigger than his frame. Unfortunately, in the face of absolute power, courage is the cheapest thing there is."

However, just as Dead Hand's iron fist was about to smash into Song Yang's face, Song Yang moved.

He didn't retreat, nor did he block.

His body suddenly dropped low, sliding along the ground in a posture that defied human mechanics. As if he had no bones, he slipped right through the interlocking blockade of Dead Hand's four arms.

The entire process was as fast as a flash of lightning. Ninety-nine percent of the creatures in the stands didn't even see what had happened; they only saw a blur, and the thin figure vanished from where he stood.

Dead Hand's sure-fire strike hit nothing but air, and his massive body stumbled forward a step due to inertia.

In that very step, Song Yang's figure appeared behind him like a ghost.

Without the slightest pause, he delivered a hand-blade strike precisely to the right side of Dead Hand's lower back.

Thud!

A muffled sound.

The strike wasn't heavy; it didn't even break Dead Hand's defense. It felt more like being poked by a hard object.

But Dead Hand's expression changed instantly. He felt a sudden numbness in the right half of his body, and his footing became unstable.

A nerve node!

In a corner, the old man with the broken antennae leaned forward, his squinted eyes snapping open. A terrifying light gleamed in his cloudy pupils.

"Good boy. He saw right through the defensive gap caused by muscle pulling when Dead Hand exerts force."

"Master, will... will Dead Hand lose?" the apprentice beside him asked nervously.

"Lose? It's too early for that."

The old man shook his head, but his voice carried a hint of excitement. "But this 'performance' is starting to get interesting."

In the center of The Arena, Dead Hand slowly turned around, cracking his neck with a loud pop.

That mysterious smirk had disappeared, replaced by the explosive rage of being offended.

He hadn't expected this seemingly weak creature to be able to perceive his weakness in an instant.

The man let out a low growl, the muscles on his four arms bulging and knotting, veins twisting like earthworms. "You've succeeded in making me angry. Next, I'll let you experience what true despair feels like."

He no longer held back, spreading his four arms wide like a berserk giant ape and pouncing again with a roar. This time, his attacks followed no pattern; there was only pure madness, intent on tearing everything in front of him to shreds!

Song Yang's expression remained unmoved.

This madness was exactly what he wanted.

A rational beast is the hardest to deal with, but one ruled by anger... is just a target with a bit more strength.

A storm of fists smashed toward Song Yang like a swarm of meteors, each strike enough to dent alloy plates.

Shallow craters were smashed into the hard floor of The Arena.

Yet, Song Yang was like a phantom in the dust, always managing to escape by a hair's breadth just before the fists closed in.

There was no wasted movement. Every sidestep, duck, and shuffle was like dancing on a knife's edge, yet he always found the safest, most efficient point.

The clamor in the stands unknowingly died down. Every creature stared wide-eyed, trying to catch the figure that remained composed under the frantic bombardment of those four iron arms.

Thud!

Another muffled sound.

The moment Song Yang dodged a horizontal sweep, his body twisted, and he drove an elbow into the armpit of Dead Hand's left arm.

Snap!

Dead Hand winced in pain, his offensive faltering for a moment. Song Yang's toe had already struck the outside of his knee like a lightning bolt.

One strike, then another.

These attacks were still not fatal; they didn't even break Dead Hand's coarse skin.

But fist and palm prints began to stack up on his body like maggots on a bone.

From the shoulder blades to the ribs, and then to the tendons at the base of the thighs, every move Song Yang made landed precisely on the key nodes of Dead Hand's power delivery.

Dead Hand grew increasingly frantic.

He felt as if his body were a rusted machine. The coordination of his four arms began to show visible lag and stiffness.

He clearly wanted to throw a left punch, but his right arm would be half a beat slow;

He wanted to lift a leg, but the soreness in his waist caused the movement to deform.

That human was like a mosquito that had injected anesthetic into his body, constantly weakening him, dismantling him.

"This... this is impossible..."

The wine glass in The jewel-bedecked fat man's hand hung in mid-air, the certainty on his face long since replaced by shock. "What... what is he doing?"

"He's toying with him,"

his female companion explained.

The once invincible 'Dead Hand' was now attacking without any semblance of form, looking more like a beast trapped in a cage, wildly waving its claws and letting out futile roars.

His breathing became heavy, and sweat mixed with bodily fluids stained his bronze skin in mottled patches.

Finally, after another four-armed pounce missed its mark, Dead Hand collapsed to one knee from exhaustion, panting heavily.

The entire Arena fell into a dead silence.

The clamor of over four million was suppressed into silence by a single figure.

Song Yang stopped walking and stood not far in front of Dead Hand, still wearing that calm, ripple-free expression, as if the thrilling struggle just now had been nothing more than a warm-up.

He looked down at his kneeling opponent and spoke slowly. His voice wasn't loud, but it reached every corner of The Arena clearly:

"You've lost."

Dead Hand's four eyes glared deathly at Song Yang.

"What... did you say?" he squeezed the words through his teeth.

Song Yang's expression didn't change at all as he simply repeated himself, as if stating an irrefutable fact:

"I said, you've lost."

"I haven't..."

Dead Hand roared, trying to use his remaining strength to push himself up, his knotted muscles bulging once more.

However, he had only lifted himself half an inch when a tearing, explosive pain erupted from within him!

It wasn't pain in one place, but in dozens, hundreds of places.

It was the marks left by every one of Song Yang's previous attacks. Those seemingly harmless elbow strikes and toe kicks now turned into countless red-hot steel needles, exploding simultaneously at every nerve node in his body!

“Argh—!”

A shrill, inhuman scream echoed throughout The Arena.

Dead Hand could no longer hold himself up. His massive body, as if all the bones had been removed, pitched forward and crashed heavily onto the hard floor.

He convulsed, his four arms scratching wildly at the ground, yet he didn't even have the strength to roll over.

In the silence, a humming sound rang out.

The next moment, a slender, red light beam, more precise than a strand of hair, shot out without warning from the shadows at the top of The Arena, instantly piercing through Dead Hand's twitching head.

Sizzle.

A small, charred hole appeared between his brows, with a wisp of smoke curling upward.

Dead Hand's body stiffened abruptly, then went completely limp, silent forever.

In a life-and-death struggle, the loser is the dead.

The rules of The Arena were cold and efficient.

After a brief silence, an emotionless electronic voice boomed across the sky as a giant virtual screen unfolded in the center of the field:

"Winner—Song the Madman!"

On the screen, next to Song Yang's profile picture, a string of numbers jumped frantically.

[Points: +5000]

[Current Total Points: 11250]

“Whoa—!”

The silence that had been suppressed to the extreme was instantly ignited by a mountain-shaking wave of sound.

"What's the situation?!"

"My god, I bet on Dead Hand! All my savings, gone just like that!"

"I hit it big! A full million star coins! Good thing I bet on Song the Madman."