As night fell, on the outskirts of Shanghai, luxurious and sports cars began to drive into a large abandoned lumber yard. Among these vehicles were a BMW X7, Audi R8, Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG, Ferrari F70, Porsche 911, Lamborghini LP640, Maybach 62, Bentley Continental GTC, Maserati Quattroporte, Rolls-Royce Phantom, and even a Bugatti Veyron.
"Incredible," Roselle thought, realizing that amidst such an array of luxury cars, O'Neill's stretched Lincoln was nothing special. Upon stepping onto the dirt ground, he finally got a glimpse of the elite class within China.
"Young Master Jiang, I have the certification ready. Shall we go in?" asked the driver and assistant, a 40-year-old man with an honest appearance and steady demeanor, opening the car door for Jiang Da Shao and bending down to inquire.
"Let's go in, of course. Damn, China really is full of hidden talents," O'Neill, perhaps infected by the tense atmosphere of this year's competition for shares, took a deep breath, visibly under pressure.
"Boss, you go first." O'Neill's serious demeanor didn't last long; he quickly turned to Roselle with his familiar, cheeky look that seemed to invite a beating.
"Save your expressions, I've never been to such an event before, I'll just follow behind," Roselle rolled his eyes, mentally dismissing O'Neill's bravado.
The current scene was beyond Roselle's experience; naturally, he wouldn't strut to the front. However, he wasn't intimidated by the presence of numerous dignitaries and wealthy heirs, as they represented worldly power. Even though Roselle wore worn-out attire, his mindset was transcendent—this was the aura his inner strength provided. There are various types of foundation, with wealth and power being merely two. Roselle's foundation was raw power, a solid, genuine strength!
Thus, he maintained an effortlessly superior, poised demeanor, an aura that slightly surprised the rich heir.
"Hehe, well, perhaps I can show off in front of you just this once?" O'Neill said, donning stylish sunglasses and holding a cigar, adopting a deliberately showy persona as he swaggered ahead.
Wearing sunglasses at night, Roselle, who knew O'Neill's character well, was certain this was intentional. Sure enough, O'Neill's behavior drew disdainful glances from many VIPs and wealthy youngsters—certainly eye-catching, yet clearly not in a positive way.
Shaking his head, Roselle, along with the others, followed. Perhaps the driver was well-prepared, as upon entering the underground entrance of the abandoned lumberyard, he only needed to report a code and present a certificate for their group of five to gain entry.
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After navigating a meandering staircase several meters long, they entered an expansive underground martial arts arena.
"Hiss," Roselle noted. Despite being in an old lumberyard, the arena was lavishly decorated, with bright lights illuminating a massive space capable of seating thousands in tiered rows, descending towards the center.
At the lowest point lay an 8x8 meter square platform, constructed with highly elastic fiberboard, without any surrounding ropes—presumably the fighting platform.
According to O'Neill's driver, the middle-aged assistant Ping Yang, this flexible blue fiberboard could withstand up to 2,500 kilograms of impact. Even world champion boxers or heavyweights couldn't shake it.
Roselle and his group found excellent seats, three rows from the back, close to the fighting stage. They sat silently, absorbing the atmosphere, as the clock edged towards 8 PM. More and more figures of significance entered the venue.
Bodyguards, assistants, beauties, and more filled nearly seventy percent of the thousands of seats.
Around 8:30 PM, the central platform's multi-sided screens flickered from static to a well-dressed male host announcing for combat representatives to enter the warm-up arena.
"Zhangzhou, give it your all," O'Neill encouraged his representative with a pat.
"Yes, boss, I'll secure the 'Pocha King Ticket' for you," Zhangzhou replied with cold confidence, casting a sharp glance at Caesar before heading to the warm-up arena.
With half an hour until the fights began, the arena adopted a no-rules freestyle combat setup. Any means could be used save external weapons or causing fatalities. For participants, warming up was crucial preparation for the brutal fights ahead.
"Caesar, aren't you going to warm up?" After Zhangzhou left, O'Neill turned, puzzled why Roselle’s powerful friend wasn't moving.
"No need," Caesar replied coldly, his eyes scanning the readying combat representatives, a savage excitement gleaming in them.
The battle-hungry, brutal nature of the Jingang people resided deep within, and while Caesar had always appeared stoic as a beast slave, this was the moment his true instincts were exposed.
"Great, I should celebrate getting the Pocha King Ticket already," O'Neill laughed cheekily, his expression one of smug satisfaction, making Roselle nearly want to hit him.
Not warming up?
It showed absolute confidence. O'Neill knew there were at least a dozen others in the venue similarly opting to skip warm-ups. In past years, the Jiang family's masters would also forgo warming up, directly entering combat, a scenario that vanished as one by one their aces were assassinated.
Meanwhile, the male host on screen announced that there were 378 participants in the elimination round from all over China. The rules were open combat; participants would be drawn randomly by computer, each match limited to three minutes. If no clear winner emerged after three minutes, both combatants would lose their entry ticket.
It was a harsh competition, but for seasoned fighters accustomed to life-and-death battles, three minutes were ample unless they cowardly avoided confrontation.
In simple terms, within three minutes, a competent fighter could throw at least 500 punches, land 200 kicks, or launch several hundred aggressive moves across the body.
With such a relentless pace of attacks, fully engaging within the time, three minutes was not short at all. In comparison to the typical televised matches with gloves and numerous rules, this was entirely different.