Chapter 83: Chapter 82: King of the White Tower (Part 4)_1
 

When Fu Qian saw his first opponent, he momentarily thought the Black Knight had just changed his paint job.

It was yet another fellow clad in full armor!

Even though he didn’t look as ostentatious as the Black Knight did, he was still armed to the teeth.

Fu Qian paid no attention to the referee’s drivel, instead looking up with interest at the stands.

Above him, the stands were now a showcase of the Ring Islands’ craftsmanship, filled with a variety of forms.

Three hands, four feet, scaly skins, long tails—constructions that challenged the imagination left spectators in awe.

Accompanied by the occasional howls, it almost felt like stepping into a Colosseum.

The only difference was that the beasts had moved to the stands.

Fu Qian wasn’t an intolerant person, in fact, he was quite supportive of all kinds of body modifications.

In his words, he respected an individual’s freedom to perfect their body as they saw fit.

The problem was, the aesthetics of these Limb Attachment masses in the stands really lacked any sense of beauty.

Clay figures kneaded by kindergarteners with closed eyes would look more pleasing.

An old saying goes, “Looks are combat power, and what’s not good-looking can’t be strong.”

No matter the technology of the White Tower Company, their taste was seriously bad.

In contrast, that Succubus Girl on the beach was considered quite decent.

“3, 2, 1, the match begins.”

It was at this moment the referee finally announced the start of the match, and almost immediately, the opponent quickly stepped forward.

A howling gust of wind accompanied a gleaming broadsword that came slashing over.

Protected by armor and forgoing defense, wielding a large sword to kill the opponent in a second— even if there was a counterattack, it would at most result in a mutual wound.

It has to be said, this is a pretty reasonable tactic—provided that both sides can be considered worthy opponents.

As the cold gleam of the slash approached, Fu Qian stood his ground without dodging, planting his foot firmly.

In the explosion-like sound, dust billowed, and bricks and stones flew.

The arena, which seemed incredibly solid, was directly dented with a deep pit by this stomp.

Under the ferocious impact, the opponent was sent flying, flattening to the ground with the sword, unable to get up.

The whole process took less than five seconds.

…

With two tentacles each ending in an eye extending from his arm, the referee’s four eyes stared at the deep pit on the ground for a long time before coming back to his senses.

Seeing that Fu Qian had no interest in delivering a finishing blow, the referee reluctantly declared the end of the round.

When Fu Qian returned to the rest area, the other three were absent, and the four Female Priestesses looked his way almost in unison, their expressions somewhat complex.

After searching around outside, Fu Qian soon found that spirited young man.

He was currently standing in one of the arenas, facing an opponent—a woman who believed that the less she wore, the higher her defense—and as she moved, flesh was fleetingly exposed.

Since her skills mainly focused on close-quarters submission techniques, the whole scene was hardly fit for the eyes.

However, the audience in the stands seemed to enjoy this spectacle, wailing and howling as they threw all sorts of messy things in the direction of the arena.

The young man was clearly not a Transcendent, but it was evident that he’d undergone thorough training.

Agile and dodging, he managed to maintain a clear mind amid his opponent’s bodily onslaught and ultimately won the round, though not without difficulty.

After the opponent collapsed from exhaustion, he too graciously refrained from delivering a final strike, which drew boos from the stands.

Upon returning to the rest room, the young man could hardly contain his excitement.

Facing the gaze of the Female Priestesses that welcomed back a hero, he somewhat awkwardly accepted a towel, not forgetting to cast a wary glance at Fu Qian.

There was no need!

Fu Qian shook his head internally.

Though he didn’t know what had bamboozled the man into coming here, he really didn’t have to consider him a potential rival.

Soon, the other two also returned in succession, with all four managing to make it to the next round.

There was no interval between the two rounds, and the spirited young man was quickly called out again.

Unfortunately, his luck wasn’t as good this time.

His opponent was a bald muscleman with muscles bulging like Qiong knots, his face covered with crisscrossed scars, looking extremely fierce.

Of course, these were not the main points; it was obvious that the man was a Transcendent.

Almost the instant he stepped onto the stage, his fists burst forth with a flame-like heat.

In such a situation, the spirited young man knew he was not a match, but clearly, he didn’t want to give up without a fight.

So he braced himself with utmost attention, closely watching his opponent’s every move in an attempt to hold out a while longer.

However, his opponent did not give him the chance to do so.

Accompanied by a streak of fire, the young man was blasted away, rolling to the edge of the ring before finally coming to a stop.

By this point, his entire upper arm was completely deformed and charred, and he had promptly passed out.

This was the result of his quick reaction, raising his arm in front of his body at the first sign of attack.

According to the rules, losing consciousness like this didn’t count as a surrender or defeat, and he could still enjoy the promised conditions, namely getting a permanent pass.

Perhaps that was what he was thinking.

Luckily for him, his opponent was equally disdainful of delivering a coup de grâce; after just one punch he stood in place, his gaze fixed on the referee, waiting for the announcement of the result.

But the referee hesitated to act and instead stared at the fallen spirited young man.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1—

Five seconds later, a jolt ran through the young man’s body, and a yellow-white flame burst forth from his arm, swiftly engulfing his entire body, reducing him to a charred husk.

Only then did the referee nonchalantly declare the bald man victorious amidst a more fervent cheer from the stands, utterly satisfied.

As expected!

Fu Qian shook his head.

What cannot be attained by force cannot be attained by reason either.

Some loopholes exist precisely for you to exploit.

This one was still naïve.

Fu Qian glanced to the side, where the spirited young man’s Female Priestess expressionlessly gathered their belongings, preparing to send them back along with his ashes.

At this moment, Fu Qian heard someone calling his name; his second match was about to begin.

As expected, once on the stage, Fu Qian saw the charred marks of the spirited young man in the corner.

It was clear that the cleaners had been very diligent, but they still couldn’t scrape it all away.

By now, his second opponent had already taken the stage early, looking provocatively this way.

“3, 2—”

Before the referee had finished counting down, a black shadow, carrying a cold gleam, had already charged forth, moving as unpredictably as a ghost.

Fu Qian looked up at the referee, who was completely indifferent to the proceedings.

I see, Fu Qian suddenly recalled the rules of the Ring Islands—the absence of prohibitions permits all actions.

The referee indeed was counting down, but the rules announced earlier did not mandate that the round could only begin after the countdown ended.

As his ferocious opponent charged at him, Fu Qian twisted his body, raised his foot, and charged his strength.

Boom!

In a deafening roar that shook the heavens and the earth, half of the ring collapsed, a pit nearly ten times larger than before appearing before everyone’s eyes.

Within the pit lay two mangled corpses.

If I remember correctly, the rules also did not state that one could not kill the referee.

After a two-second silence, the stands erupted with a climax-like cheer.