Base No. 7

Chapter 8:One Cut

On the fifth floor of the arena, inside a private room, two figures stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, easily able to look down on the entire fighting arena.

"The newcomer is interesting." The middle-aged man on the left, wearing glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, narrowed his eyes as he looked down at the arena, resembling a cold, venomous snake.

"Cobra, you’re letting Laen participate in the fight. Aren't you worried about losing one of your subordinates?" The middle-aged man beside him, around forty, was shaking a wine glass.

"He’s desperate for money, that's all." Cobra's voice was a little hoarse as he stared at Laen’s opponent below, Xu Mo, and said, "Why do new people always seem to seek death? Qin Zhong, want to make a bet?"

"Bet on Laen and the newcomer? Cobra, do you think I’m a fool?" Qin Zhong chuckled.

"Ten to one odds. I’ll put in 10,000, you put in 1,000. Let’s make it a small game." Cobra turned to look at Qin Zhong.

Qin Zhong glanced below and nodded. "1,000 is not a small amount for me, but since you're interested, I'll join you. Consider it a contribution to the arena’s funds."

The two men immediately took out their money and handed it to a tall woman standing behind them. She was a server at the arena, and for each agreed-upon bet, the server acted as a notary, with the arena taking a percentage as a commission.

Qin Zhong was the direct manager of the arena.

…

In the arena, the heavy metal music stimulated the crowd’s emotions. Even before the fight began, many were already shouting loudly.

"Laen, crush him!"

"Take his knife and stab it into his heart!"

Many people screamed frantically, more excited than Laen himself in the fight.

"Challenger, newcomer, codename Hunter; opponent, Laen, four wins." A mechanical voice came from above. Laen didn’t even wear a helmet, only arm guards, and he looked at Xu Mo with disdain. Such a weak physique, could it withstand a punch?

"Could this newcomer be another gambler seeking death?"

"Look at this fragile figure, daring to step into the arena. He must not care about his life, just his money."

"Laen has killed four opponents, he won’t spare this one either. This kid is most likely dead, Hunter?"

"Crush him, Laen. Don’t use a second punch."

Countless voices buzzed in Xu Mo’s ears, but he remained calm, standing in the center of the arena. The lights swept over him, and in this wild atmosphere, he felt isolated from the world.

Xu Mo closed his eyes, everything around him clearly etched in his mind, including the crazed, twisted faces of the audience. Everything seemed to slow down, frame by frame, as his mind operated like a well-oiled machine.

His hands were steady, the intense hostility within him suppressed.