Xiaoming saw Long Xiao and Luan Ji Ping beside him, paused for a moment, and then pretended not to know them, swaggering over to Qian Luo.
"Old Qian, you can't go back on your word."
Qian Luo nodded hurriedly and said, "Don't worry, ten million per match, yours won't be shortchanged."
Xiaoming looked at Long Xiao and said, "Old Qian, if I help you fight a few more matches..."
He sighed midway and said, "You must want this guy to fight, forget it, I'll just fight one match."
Long Xiao knew that Xiaoming was reminding him that he could make money by fighting, but Long Xiao couldn't.
Long Xiao quickly said, "Little brother, fighting is tiring. How about this, you fight two matches, and I'll fight one?"
"Old Qian, is that okay? Twenty million for two matches, not too much?" Xiaoming asked.
Qian Luo didn't know why Long Xiao was acting like this, so he could only nod and say, "Alright, twenty million for two death matches, not too much."
Xiaoming secretly winked at Long Xiao, smiled, and sat down in his reserved seat.
The pre-match performance quickly ended, and the Japanese referee came on stage to announce the rules for today's matches. Afterwards, the participants from both sides went up to the ring to sign the death pact.
As people from two countries were involved, consulates from over a dozen countries also sent representatives to witness the match.
The opponent's two middle-aged men and a young girl, Xiaoming whispered, "Brother, the little girl is yours, I'll handle the two middle-aged men."
Long Xiao's five-elemental qi scanned the three people and found that one of the middle-aged men immediately reacted, emitting a strong qi from within his body.
The middle-aged man looked at Long Xiao and Xiaoming, searching for who had emitted the qi.
Long Xiao whispered, "I'll deal with the middle-aged man in the center, you're no match for him."
Xiaoming looked at the little girl with some difficulty. This girl was about his age, slightly shorter than him, with delicate and cute features, but her face was full of coldness.
"Brother Long, I can't bring myself to harm this girl," Xiaoming whispered.
"If you can't bring yourself to harm her, then go easy on her. Winning the match is what matters."
"This is a death match, winning against her without hurting her is very difficult."
"It doesn't matter if you lose to her, as long as we win two matches, we win."
"No way, ten million can buy so much roast duck, I absolutely cannot lose."
While the two were talking in low voices, the three people from South Korea had already signed their names and stood aside.
After Long Xiao and Xiaoming signed their names, they turned and got off the stage, returning to their seats.
After verifying the signatures, the referee loudly announced the start of the first match.
The opponent's three people, after some discussion, sent out a middle-aged man first. Long Xiao saw that it wasn't the middle-aged man who could emit qi, and remained seated.
Xiaoming stood up, about to go onto the stage. Qian Luo said, "Little brother, it's inconvenient with your backpack."
"No, the things in the backpack are very important, I can't put them down," Xiaoming said, looking back at Qian Luo.
This trip to Hong Kong involved flying, so Xiaoming's Black Iron cleaver and Long Xiao's 'Dragon's Roar' were left at home. Xiaoming only brought some elixirs with him.
Looking at Xiaoming's nonchalant demeanor, the middle-aged man from South Korea frowned, clearly not optimistic about Xiaoming.
Xiaoming went onto the stage and first approached the referee, saying, "Let me confirm again, can I use any means to attack any part of the body in this fight?"
The referee nodded and said, "You are correct, you can use any means to attack any part of the body, to the death."
This Japanese referee, on the principle of not minding a chaotic situation, specifically reminded Xiaoming that it was a fight to the death.
Xiaoming took out an old kitchen knife from his backpack. He had casually taken this knife from a restaurant kitchen yesterday while eating.
As soon as Xiaoming's cleaver came out, someone in the audience shouted, "You little brat, you stole my cleaver."
A fat man shouted loudly, saying Xiaoming had stolen his cleaver. Due to the size of the stadium, the fat man was too far from the stage, so very few people heard him, and no one paid him any attention.
"No matter how good your kung fu is, you still fear a cleaver. Surrender and I'll let you go, otherwise, I'll chop you up with one stroke."
"Referee, the opponent is cheating, bringing weapons into the arena!" Someone from the South Korean side immediately stood up and shouted.
The referee tried to stop Xiaoming. Xiaoming glared at the Japanese referee and said, "Didn't I just ask you if I could attack in any form, and attack any part of the body? You said yes, and now you want to go back on your word?"
"This is a no-rules death match, so the attack methods are naturally unlimited."
"Then what are you waiting for? Announce the start." httpδ:/m.kuAisugg.nět
The referee reluctantly stepped forward, stood in the center of the ring, and announced the start.
As soon as Xiaoming stepped onto the stage, he used his 'Ghost Profound' movement technique, moving rapidly. The South Korean fighter couldn't adapt to this fighting style and began to struggle, losing his composure.
Initially, Xiaoming didn't go all out. He wanted to win but also conserve some strength for the next match. If he used all his trump cards, his chances of winning the next match would decrease.
The South Korean fighter was flustered by Xiaoming's attacks and soon had several cuts on his arm.
As they passed each other, the South Korean fighter pulled out a pistol from his chest and fired a shot.
Xiaoming suddenly felt a tingling sensation on his scalp and a sharp pain all over his body. He tried to dodge but it was too late. With a bang, his back was hit by the bullet, and he fell to the ground.
Pulling out a handgun in a death match was beyond everyone's imagination. Was this a fight or murder?
The South Korean fighter proudly blew on the muzzle of his gun and said, "Didn't you say you could attack the opponent in any form?"
As soon as the South Korean fighter finished speaking, he saw the cleaver Xiaoming was holding flying towards him, and he hurriedly dodged.
Just as he dodged the flying cleaver, Xiaoming suddenly appeared in front of him. Using his Joint Dislocation Technique, with a crack, the South Korean fighter's gun-wielding wrist was broken.
A scream erupted. The South Koreans in the audience all stood up. Some shouted to stop, while others rushed onto the stage.
Xiaoming kicked the South Korean fighter's knee, and with a crack, his knee was broken, and the South Korean fighter fell to his knees.
Xiaoming beckoned to the cleaver, and it flew into his hand.
Several South Korean experts rushed onto the stage, and Xiaoming's cleaver had already cut into the South Korean fighter's neck.
Blood splattered as the South Korean fighter's throat was cut on the spot.
The fighting arena fell silent. Xiaoming quickly retreated, dodging the gushing blood.
Several South Korean experts charged at Xiaoming. A melee was about to begin. Long Xiao used his 'Ghost Profound' movement technique and rushed onto the stage. With one kick each, he sent all the charging South Korean experts flying off the stage.
Xiaoming wiped his cleaver on the ring ropes, put it back in his backpack, and swaggered back to the Martial Alliance resting area.
The South Korean fighter was carried away by medical personnel for rescue. Over a dozen staff members rushed onto the stage to clean up.
Long Xiao threw a bottle of water to Xiaoming and said, "Drink some water and rest. If the next one can't be helped, then go easy on them."
"I'll try my best to persuade her, and if she doesn't listen, I'll spank her," Xiaoming said, taking the water.