Li Feng kept his eyes locked on the arena below. The two fighters now were different from the previous pair. These two were far stronger, their moves ruthless and deadly.
The red-clad fighter, in particular, exuded a fierce aura, clearly a seasoned warrior. From Li Feng’s perspective, this red-clad fighter had reached the early stage of fourth-level body refining, with formidable combat strength. The blue-clad fighter, however, was a level below him in strength.
But Li Feng’s choice of blue wasn’t out of necessity. He had noticed something unique about the blue-clad fighter: his left hand was extraordinary.
The red-clad fighter’s attacks were sharp, each move lethal, favouring close-quarters combat. The blue-clad fighter wasn’t as fluid, countering each move carefully. Their back-and-forth was intense.
Bang!
At that moment, the red-clad fighter deliberately left an opening. The blue-clad fighter seized the chance, launching a punch at his chest. But the red-clad fighter sprang off the ground, soaring into the air, and delivered a double kick to the blue-clad fighter’s jaw. Blood sprayed from the blue-clad fighter’s mouth as he flew back, crashing heavily to the ground.
The crowd below erupted in cheers, shouting encouragement.
“Li Feng, you’re done for this time,” Song Zhiyuan said smugly, seeing the red-clad fighter gain the upper hand. “Five hundred million, enough for me to spend for a year.”
“Haha, don’t worry, Li Feng. Winning and losing are part of the game,” Zong Yanshan said with a smile, his tone dripping with subtle gloating.
“It’s not over yet,” Li Feng said with a cold laugh.
But the scene in the arena suddenly turned upside down.
The blue-clad fighter, knocked down by the red-clad fighter, rolled on the ground, sprang to his feet, and took a deep breath. Clenching his fists, he fixed a sharp gaze on the red-clad fighter.
Whoosh!
The blue-clad fighter lunged forward, his left sleeve suddenly billowing, crackling with energy.
Bang, bang…
His left hand shot out, unleashing dozens of punches in an instant, so fast the movements were a blur!
A storm of fist shadows overwhelmed the arena, the fierce wind from his punches tearing through the air. The blue-clad fighter charged like a tiger down a mountain, unstoppable.
The red-clad fighter hadn’t expected this sudden outburst. Before he could react, he was engulfed in a barrage of fist shadows!
Bang, bang, bang…
The shadows swallowed the red-clad fighter. His sturdy frame was sent flying like a punching bag, his agonised screams and the sound of breaking bones echoing clearly across the arena. The crowd roared with excitement.
Thud!
The red-clad fighter was hurled dozens of metres by the immense force, crashing outside the arena, covered in blood.
“How is this possible?” Song Zhiyuan stared in disbelief. It had happened so fast he couldn’t process it. The red-clad fighter had been defeated by the blue-clad fighter.
“There’s no such thing as impossible in this world. The fortune teller was right. I’m lucky today, and I’ve won again,” Li Feng laughed heartily, looking at Song Zhiyuan with glee. “Song Shao, you’re not going to back out, are you?”
“Joke’s on you. Who do you think I, Song Zhiyuan, am? I’d never welch on a bet,” Song Zhiyuan sneered. Five hundred million was a lot, but his pride was worth more. Losing face would disqualify him as the second young master of the Song family. Still, his heart burned with anger. He was convinced Li Feng had just gotten lucky; otherwise, how could the blue-clad fighter have turned the tables at the last moment?
“I knew Song Shao wasn’t that kind of person. Transfer the money,” Li Feng said with a dismissive smile. He wasn’t worried about Song Zhiyuan reneging, knowing how much he valued his pride. Seeing his furious expression, Li Feng felt a thrill of satisfaction.
“Zhang Shao, Zong Shao, you too,” Li Feng said with a smile to Zhang Yaokun and Zong Yanshan. They had each bet two hundred million, and with Song Zhiyuan’s five hundred million, he’d raked in nine hundred million in no time. The money came too easily. These young masters were just too rich.
Li Feng couldn’t help but think of himself. As the heir of the Li family, how was it that, apart from Xiangfeng Investment Company and Tianfu Tower, he had no other assets? It didn’t match his status.
It seemed his position in the family wasn’t secure.
“Smug little man,” Zhang Yaokun snorted.
“Young Master Feng has a keen eye. Two hundred million is nothing to me,” Zong Yanshan said with a glint in his eyes, chuckling.
Li Feng said, “Thanks, both of you. I told you, my luck’s on fire today. Earning this much, I could probably sponsor the entire Tianhai Arts Academy.”
After Song Zhiyuan, Zhang Yaokun, and Zong Yanshan transferred the money to Li Feng’s account, hearing his words made their faces turn ashen with anger. Especially Song Zhiyuan, who had never suffered such a loss. If not for Li Feng’s skills, he’d have already taught him a lesson.
Of course, Song Zhiyuan hadn’t come alone. As a young master of a prominent family, he had plenty of bodyguards, though he disliked being followed closely and kept them nearby instead.
He considered having his bodyguards deal with Li Feng, but with Li Feng’s status, him acting personally was one thing. If his guards got involved, it could be seen as declaring war on the Li family.
“Gu Shan, yours is fine…” Li Feng said to Gu Shan. He had a good impression of Gu Shan, who had only bet a symbolic fifty million. Li Feng didn’t care about that amount now, and making a friend like Gu Shan wouldn’t be a bad idea.
“Haha, Young Master Feng, you’re too kind. A bet’s a bet, and I can afford this much,” Gu Shan declined, partly for pride and partly to avoid suspicion from Song Zhiyuan. Song Zhiyuan was arrogant, and while Gu Shan wasn’t afraid of him, he didn’t want trouble.
“Haha, then I won’t hold back,” Li Feng said with a smile, glancing at the text notification on his phone, his face brimming with excitement.
“Smug little man,” Song Zhiyuan muttered, glaring at the defeated red-clad fighter with a vicious look. He pulled out his phone and dialled a number. “Bring him up.”
Li Quan watched Li Feng in shock. How could this be? How could Li Feng win? In just over an hour, Li Feng had won five hundred fifty million from Song Zhiyuan, two hundred million from Zhang Yaokun, two hundred million from Zong Yanshan, and fifty million from Gu Shan—totalling one billion.
This was unimaginable to Li Quan before, but it was happening right in front of him. Was it really just luck? How could Li Feng’s luck be so good?
Thinking of the one billion in Li Feng’s hands, Li Quan grew uneasy. Li Feng had borrowed one and a half billion from Tiantian Loans. Excluding the one billion used to start the company with Liu Shichao, he still had five hundred million. With the one billion he’d just won, plus a bit of interest, he could pay off the Tiantian Loans debt. Wouldn’t that ruin Li Quan’s carefully laid plans?
That wasn’t even the worst part. If Li Feng kept winning, he wouldn’t need to worry about money anymore, and that would mean one less way to manipulate him.
Li Quan’s small eyes darted as schemes flashed through his mind.
