Chapter Seventy-Two: There Is Only One King in the Law of the Jungle

Inside the VIP suite of Arena One at Shanghai Sports Center, soft lighting poured over the dining table, casting a cold gleam off the silver cutlery. Zhang Xu stood before the enormous one-way glass, holding a glass of red wine, gently swirling it so the deep crimson liquid danced within the goblet.

Through the glass, he gazed down at the audience seats, gradually filling with people. Arena One was the largest venue in the sports center, capable of holding thirty thousand spectators. What did that mean? Standing here, looking out, he saw a dense sea of heads—truly a massive crowd.

At the heart of the arena, surrounded by the audience, the central stage bore the imprint of a mid-level script mirage, which could record every action of the contestants. Each time a fighter paused, their movements would replay rapidly, while their real-time status became invisible, ensuring that ordinary spectators could clearly see every exchange.

During these replays, the fighters were forbidden to move. They could only resume fighting once the playback was over.

Zhang Xu’s gaze swept over the brightly lit stage, his lips curling into a cold sneer. “The way these ants struggle with all their might to climb upward… No matter how many times you see it, it’s always ugly.”

“Zhang, you’re being a bit harsh. These are famous fighters, celebrated stars in the world of combat sports.” His companion’s words were more teasing than argumentative.

Zhang Xu easily caught the undertone. Turning, he replied with a broad smile, “Fighters? That’s merely their own delusion, believing that with spirit and skill they can change fate. But the outcome has long been decided. You and I both know who’ll win this match. Only that ignorant crowd is still shouting themselves hoarse.”

“Still, more people have bet on Tiger to win. Having Du Yu win might suit our interests better.”

“Even among fighting dogs, bloodlines determine status—those of lowly blood should remain in the dirt and never hope to surpass noble lineage.”

The light made Zhang Xu’s face appear especially severe.

His companion suddenly understood. Although they were both from the Xia nation, deep down they did not consider themselves true Xia; instead, they regarded themselves as a superior breed from abroad. The flaws inherent to the Xia people simply couldn’t compare with those outside.

As he mused, his companion elegantly sliced into a rare Kobe steak with his knife, forking up a blood-tinged piece and chewing slowly.

Below, in the arena, the announcer’s voice thundered through the loudspeakers, stirring the crowd to fever pitch: “Now, let us welcome the fighting star from America, the world’s youngest fighting champion—Mason Tiger! Renowned for his devastating techniques and hailed by the American people as ‘the Beast’!”

“Tiger! Tiger!” The entire stadium erupted with deafening cheers. Some frenzied female fans even ripped off their bras and waved them overhead.

From the right-side tunnel, Tiger burst onto the stage, arms raised high. He stood two meters tall, his jet-black skin shining under the lights like tempered steel. He let out a wild, inhuman cry, an untamed savage brimming with primal strength.

“Tiger’s opponent is the undefeated domestic fighter with fifty-four consecutive victories—Du Yu, known as ‘Mad Tiger’!”

“Mad Tiger! Mad Tiger!” Du Yu took the stage to a storm of roaring chants.

With curiosity, Zhang Xu’s companion remarked, “Didn’t you send Du Yu a death threat? Was that really necessary?”

“To watch someone cast everything aside for victory, only to lose like a defeated dog—isn’t that amusing?” Zhang Xu replied with a smile.

His companion set down his cutlery, raised his wine glass in a toast. “You really are a complete bastard.”

“Haha, blame his ill fortune,” Zhang Xu responded with a chilling grin. “He’s no member of a great house, yet he possesses spiritual power—that’s his crime.”

His gaze, sharp with envy, fixed on Du Yu through the glass.

He himself was born into nobility, yet was devoid of spiritual power. While Du Yu, a low-born nobody, possessed the very strength Zhang Xu coveted. How could he bear that?

Fortunately, these painful days would soon end. Black market research into spiritual seeds now offered him a chance to become a spirit master. Staring out, the corners of his lips curled upward. At last, he would erase the only flaw in his life.

Du Yu, on the other hand, would fall into utter ruin.

The stark contrast between their fates filled Zhang Xu with elation, like a cyclist battling against the wind who suddenly finds the breeze at his back—his clothes billowing with spring air, even the wheels seem to hum with joy.

…

The arena lights cascaded down like waterfalls, bathing the stage in the brightness of day.

Du Yu and Tiger clashed furiously in the ring, fists and kicks colliding with thunderous force, each blow sending blood flying and staining the floor. The audience’s roaring cheers reached a fever pitch. With forbidden techniques off the table, the fighters used every legitimate tool at their disposal, trying to bring the other down.

Blood, sweat, and roars were interwoven—Mad Tiger and the Beast, nicknames that could not have been more apt.

The match, locked in a stalemate, entered the third round.

Zhang Xu’s expression grew dark. At this rate, Tiger might actually lose. That would never do—he was the director here; how could the actors deviate from the script?

He sipped his wine and glanced at his bodyguard. “Mr. Ye, if you would be so kind.”

“No problem,” Ye Feng replied coolly.

Gaunt and sharply dressed in a suit, Ye Feng looked every bit the refined professional, but he was in fact a skilled eighth-tier spirit master.

Against Du Yu, Ye Feng didn’t even bother with martial techniques. He simply picked up the wine, let a single drop fall to his fingertip, and flicked it outward.

The droplet shot through the air like a meteor, passing through a pinhole in the one-way glass, headed straight for Du Yu’s right leg.

A cold smile played across Ye Feng’s face, already picturing Du Yu slipping by “accident” and being KO’d by Tiger’s punch.

But halfway to its target, the wine vanished utterly.

Ye Feng’s pupils contracted.

With a muffled thud, a figure appeared before the sofa in the suite.

Ye Feng turned, terror etched across his face. “Heavenly Inquisitor?!”

If anyone followed the updates of the Hero Website’s titles most closely—apart from gossipy netizens—it was the spirit masters dealing in the underworld. After all, anyone awarded a title on the Hero Website was a formidable ninth-tier spirit master. In their line of work, you had to be sharp—not to provoke the wrong enemy, or it could mean death.

Ye Feng raised both hands at once. “This has nothing to do with me—it was all their idea. I never intended to kill him.”

Zhang Xu’s face changed. He hadn’t checked the Hero Website or watched Bai Yujing’s press conference video, but seeing his bodyguard’s fear, he realized this visitor meant trouble. He forced himself to remain calm. “I am the eldest grandson of the Zhang family. If you touch me, beware the Zhangs’ revenge.”

“Oh,” Bai Yujing answered flatly. He raised his hand. Seven luminous points appeared on his palm, forming the shape of the Big Dipper.

An invisible shockwave exploded forth, unleashing a tsunami of power upon the three.

Ye Feng didn’t even have time to react before he was blasted apart, his remains splattering against the glass.

Zhang Xu and his companion fared even worse—obliterated by the blast, they left not a trace behind.

Bai Yujing’s tolerance for crimes committed by the powerful was far lower than for those of ordinary people. The reason was simple: a single whim from the privileged could destroy families and lives. Ordinary people, limited by their strength, had to struggle with all their might to even approach the level of harm a powerful person could cause with a flick of the wrist.

Having disposed of the three, Bai Yujing vanished from the suite with a silent step, reappearing beside Zhao Nan.

With the threat eliminated, there was no longer any need to observe secretly. Now, he could watch the match openly.