80. The Calamity of the Doomsday Fist King

At the same time, similar absurd scenes were unfolding one after another among the various competing teams.

Although the targeting beams had already descended, the contestants made no move to search for their enemies; instead, they remained rooted in place, dazed. These hired “actors” had entirely forgotten their roles. Grinning vacantly, they began to mutter incomprehensible phrases.

“I really, really love the Dragonkin Maid Idol Group… hehehe, I’m coming to see you all—bang!”

“Father, I confess! I shouldn’t have harbored wicked thoughts about the neighbor’s donkey… sob sob…—bang!”

“Wow, your splattered brains are beautiful, I give it a 14.7—bang!”

One after another, the contestants shot themselves. Even the seasoned and flamboyant host was dumbfounded, momentarily at a loss for words.

“Uh… ahem, I’m not sure what’s happening, but it seems the contestants’ emotions are quite unstable. Still, to witness such a spectacular display of cranial fountains in one’s lifetime—dear viewers, you are truly blessed!”

It wasn’t long before most of the contestants in the arena were dead—not killed by others, but having taken their own lives in a frenzy of madness.

No one knew what had happened in the arena or why the contestants had suddenly lost their minds. The audience, their attention already seized by the earlier broadcast, began to denounce the Xu Corporation en masse on social media platforms.

As the competition descended into utter chaos, the broadcast feed began to cut rapidly from scene to scene. The host, Flavii, returned with his characteristic comical voice:

“Dear viewers, look! There are actually still contestants alive in the arena!”

The camera quickly shifted to the Fist God team, where Toreson stood bewildered beside the bodies of his two teammates.

Flavii immediately adopted a tone of exaggerated irony:

“Who would have thought that Toreson of the Fist God team would emerge unscathed! Could this all have been part of his plan~?”

The feed then cut to the other side of the arena. There stood a bespectacled youth wielding a submachine gun atop the ruins, with Hunter—bearing a massive sword—behind him, and the White Fox stretching languidly like a cat.

“Oh, what a surprise! Our ‘Fox, Greatsword, and Glasses’ team has also survived!” Flavii seemed visibly cheered, even improvising names for the teams: “I knew at first glance they weren’t just any ordinary team. Here’s hoping they defeat the last enemy and advance to the finals!”

Suddenly, the pillars of light above the arena vanished, replaced by two blazing crimson beams, even more intense and blinding.

These beams illuminated the heads of the remaining two teams, exposing their positions without mercy.

“With only two teams left, the match has officially entered the deathmatch phase!” announced Flavii. “The searing red beams will keep revealing the contestants’ locations; the two teams must battle to the end—only one can survive!”

“Go, go, go! Warriors, let this contest be settled! There’s no turning back now—offer your final blood and fury to this tournament!”

***

After striking a pose for the camera, Chen Shang slung his submachine gun onto his back and signaled to his teammates: “Let’s go—let’s take down that big guy with the mechanical fists.”

The man with the greatsword strode silently toward the other beam of light.

“Oh… oh!” White Fox hesitated for a moment, then hurried after them.

Chen Shang walked at an easy pace in the lead, while White Fox, following behind, whispered to the greatsword-wielder:

“Hey… what exactly did that kid just do?”

Just three minutes ago, White Fox had watched, nearly stupefied, as pillar after pillar of light vanished from the sky.

The swordsman shrugged and replied succinctly, “I don’t know. I’m just here to kill dragons in the finals.”

“Of course, there’s no point talking to a blockhead like you,” White Fox snapped, ruffling her hair in frustration. “Ugh, my head’s going to explode… I can’t figure it out at all! This kid is just too freakish!”

At last, Chen Shang’s team came face-to-face with Toreson. For a long moment, the two groups stared at each other across a half-crumbled waist-high wall, until Toreson finally spoke:

“Was all of that just now your doing?”

His tone was calm, as if untroubled by the predicament.

“Huh?” Chen Shang feigned ignorance, wearing a blank look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Then prepare to die!” Toreson snorted. Flames of blue and green erupted from the elbow of his mechanical arm.

Driven by the turbines in his iron arm, the nearly two-meter-tall boxer surged forward with the speed of a phantom.

As the duel was about to explode, Flavii’s commentary chimed in at just the right moment:

“Perhaps few people understand what it means to have entered unlimited fighting tournaments since age thirteen without ever tasting defeat!”

“This is the miracle that is Frayson Jr. Ali! Sold by his parents to the black market at the age of ten, he was purchased by an underground fight promoter.”

“From then on, his life was that of a savage hound, forged in endless combat. In the White Chapel District, he has a name that strikes fear into all—Doomsday Fist King!”

Finishing his lines with gusto, Flavii tossed the script carelessly aside. “Still, personally, I’m rooting for ‘Fox, Greatsword, and Glasses’—I hope they win.”

Back in the arena, Toreson closed the distance to Chen Shang in a flash, raising his iron fist to strike.

“Out of the way!” At that moment, the swordsman’s powered armor whirred to life. Hunter shifted his sword into a shield and charged at Toreson like a tank.

It was as if two dump trucks had collided at top speed. The clash of these heavyweights sent shockwaves through the air, knocking Chen Shang off his feet before he could retreat.

“Uppercut!”

Toreson roared, and his massive mechanical fist seemed to respond to his command. The turbines spewed even hotter flames.

Boom—!

Iron fist and greatsword crashed together, the impact resounding loudly. The swordsman staggered back, nearly losing his balance.

“That’s it? You’re not even worthy to go toe-to-toe with me!” Toreson taunted. “I’m a man who’s been through hell—did you think a little sword would let you stand against me?”

The swordsman said nothing, quickly regaining his stance and preparing to attack again.

But Toreson had no intention of further entanglement. He twisted aside and lunged at a new target—the only woman among his foes.

White Fox, holding a compact pistol, lingered at a distance, waiting for a chance to harass. Seeing him charge at her, she fired three quick shots; two struck Toreson in the chest with metallic clangs.

“Who’re you shooting at, little lady~?” Toreson laughed wildly. The skin where he was hit peeled away, revealing a sheen of metal beneath.

“Whoa, whoa, are you seriously going all out?” White Fox’s ears stood straight up at the murderous glare in Toreson’s eyes. “Hey, director, can I blow him up?”

Before she finished, Toreson had closed the gap. He drove a powerful punch into her abdomen.

Crack—

Though White Fox managed to block with a knife, she was still sent flying by the steel fist, like an ordinary woman struck by a speeding truck.

She crashed into the ruins, her form twisted grotesquely by her skintight suit—her internal organs and ribs likely shattered beyond repair.

“The Fox has been badly wounded by the Doomsday Fist King—it doesn’t look good for her!” Flavii shook his head in dismay. “What a pity. My daughter even wanted to go on a date with her—er, let’s get back to the match… What?! The Fox is still alive!”

To the astonishment of the host, White Fox slowly rose from the rubble. Her twisted limbs straightened with visible speed, and her crushed abdomen regained its fullness.

“Who would have thought the Fox possessed such formidable regenerative powers—this is truly unexpected!” Flavii exclaimed. “Oh, wait, what’s she doing now? She’s unzipping her suit—could she be about to undress in front of her enemy?!”