Chapter 16: Addicted to Throwing Matches?
“His battle instincts are remarkable; this ‘Shadow Lord’ doesn’t seem like a novice.”
“The item on his face is a magical artifact, and not a low-grade one at that—at least legendary quality.”
“A mysterious noble—interesting. It’s rare to see a noble personally step into the arena!”
The host slightly bowed to the middle-aged man beside him, gave a subtle look to the guards behind, muted his microphone, and whispered, “Didn’t he just barely dodge by luck?”
The middle-aged man shook his head. “His true nature is hard to discern. His physical strength surpasses that of an average first-tier transcendent. He’s deliberately waiting for that wanderer to come close, preparing a fatal strike.”
The host pondered for a moment, then took a slip of paper handed over by an assistant. After reading it, he passed it to the middle-aged man.
“Just arrived today, hiding his true identity, only sixteen years old. Also, he’s prepaid the deposits for ten matches.”
The middle-aged man showed surprise, scrutinizing Cohen’s information for a while before saying, “Arrange his next match as soon as possible. Pick a formidable opponent.”
“Understood.”
The host nodded. The arena remained filled with sharp whistles and malicious murmurs.
But the host paid no mind. As long as the big shots in the first two tiers didn’t speak, the opinions of others were irrelevant.
Just as the host predicted, those seated in the first two tiers had sharp eyes and could see there was no fixed match—Cohen’s battle awareness was genuinely remarkable.
The match continued. Cohen returned to the stands, closing his eyes to rest.
By now, many had noticed the silver-masked noble youth—the so-called “Shadow Lord” who had just been accused of throwing a fight.
Their eyes brimmed with undisguised disdain as they whispered and pointed at Cohen.
Automatically filtering out these ill-intentioned glances, Cohen summoned his character panel. As expected, the “Experience” bar read “5/300.”
“Too bad I can only face opponents beyond my rank after ten matches. Looks like I’ll only gain 50 experience points today.”
Just as he thought this, a sudden hush fell around him.
Slightly surprised, he looked around and found everyone’s gaze flickering between him and the distant light screen.
He raised his head, and sure enough, his name popped up again on the big screen.
After five matches, it was his turn once more!
“So soon?”
Cohen’s eyes narrowed slightly, deep in thought.
The audience wore looks of surprise—a mix of admiration that the newcomer signed up for two matches on his first day, and suspicion about the tight scheduling.
Not only the commoners in the back rows but even several boxes in the front tiers noticed the unusual situation.
---
Cohen shook his head. Since he was concealing his identity anyway, the sooner he finished the fights, the easier it would be to slip away.
Soon, five matches concluded, and it was Cohen’s turn again.
Unlike the cold reception and indifference during his first fight, this time he had some following. Most, however, still viewed him with scrutiny, eager to see the performance of this “suspected cheater” in his second match.
Cohen’s steps were light but resolute as he ascended the arena platform and saw his opponent.
The man was tall and robust, like a moving mountain. He wielded a massive iron hammer in each hand, his arms bulging with rock-hard muscles—a barbarian whose physical strength exploded with power!
Cohen glanced at his opponent’s record: four wins and six losses, indicating ten matches fought. Certainly an experienced fighter, ranking among the stronger first-tier contenders.
Seeing Cohen’s opponent, the crowd grew restless.
A newcomer on his first day facing such a tough challenger in only his second match? No one believed there wasn’t something fishy about this.
The host’s voice rang out:
“Oh-ho! It seems the great God of Battle and War, Ares the Flame of War, favors our new brother greatly—he’s back in the arena so soon!
“Let’s take a look at his opponent: the barbarian Okat, a violent brute skilled in wielding dual hammers!
“There have been many doubts about the previous match, but let me assure you: under the watchful gaze of the mighty God of War Ares, any attempts to interfere with the fairness of combat will be met with the harshest penalties! Our new brother has not used any unfair means.
“If you question his strength, then look forward to this fight!”
The host stirred the crowd’s emotions, refocusing everyone’s attention on the match.
Five minutes flashed by. With a whistle, Okat charged at Cohen, swinging his twin hammers.
“In the face of overwhelming strength, all skill is meaningless. Okat is near the peak of the first tier. If this mysterious man hopes to rely on the same trick as before, this fight will end very quickly.”
The middle-aged man watched Cohen, who remained motionless just as in the last match, speaking calmly.
Okat’s broad figure loomed larger in Cohen’s gaze, the ground trembling beneath his heavy steps.
Shadows enveloped the scene as the two iron hammers swung from left and right, leaving no escape!
Cohen’s face was serene; a gleam of gold flashed in his eyes—an willpower check!
Okat felt a sharp prick in his head.
Check passed!
Cohen’s professional skill, “Disarm Barehanded,” activated successfully!
The hammers vanished instantly from Okat’s hands.
At the same time, Cohen’s arm subtly dropped, the iron hammers appearing in his grasp.
His body leaned forward slightly, muscles taut as if fused with the weapons.
Passive skill—Weapon Mastery.
Seeing the barbarian before him suddenly bewildered without his weapons, Cohen raised the hammers high, exerting his waist and abdomen, swinging the weapon in an arc through the air, crashing down like a cannonball.
---
Boom!
The towering iron-clad man collapsed, unconscious from a single blow.
A swift knockout, another instant kill!
As Okat fell into darkness, the arena erupted into uproar, like a raging storm descending—
“Damn, did you bet on this?”
“Shit, fixed match! How can a proud barbarian lose his weapons like that?”
“Where’s your face? You just said the God of War Ares was watching, and now you’re just handing weapons to your opponent? That’s blatant cheating!”
“Paid off already?”
“Money’s easy to make! I’m also first-tier—next time, take me along!”
“Fixed match! Refund now!”
“Damn, is this kid the boss’s illegitimate son? Such shameless favoritism—what a disgrace!”
...
The deafening roar nearly shattered the sky.
Suspicion, anger, and shock surged through the crowd like a tide. Everything had happened too quickly; almost no one understood what truly transpired. They only saw the once-dominant barbarian suddenly lose his weapons to his opponent.
This act was far too staged, a blatant con. Coupled with Cohen’s previous “record,” even the name of God of War Ares couldn’t save him now.
After all, it was all too bizarre.
The host’s face turned pale as he looked at the middle-aged man beside him.
The latter stood up involuntarily, realizing that even with his legendary-tier strength, he hadn’t fully understood that moment.
Strange—what kind of technique was that?
His gaze sharpened as he stared at the host, who was momentarily stunned before hurriedly saying:
“Sir, this isn’t one of ours. Even if he were, I wouldn’t be foolish enough to pull such a low-level stunt that everyone can see through!”
The middle-aged man withdrew his gaze and said, “Then it’s his own problem?”
The host quickly shook his head. “Doesn’t seem so. Both opponents were randomly matched. Unless this person bribed every first-tier contestant scheduled today... but is that even possible?”
The middle-aged man dismissed the absurd notion, sinking into deep thought.