Rampaging Through the Heavens: Starting by sending Chan Ho-nam to Stanley

Chapter 212 The Inside Story

A chorus of cheers and boos erupted from the audience.

The giant robot walked back and forth on the stage, its arms raised high, like a wild beast surveying its territory.

His gaze swept across the audience, searching for his next prey.

No opponent could last three minutes against him.

Peter stood in the corner, watching the Big Mac finish off yet another opponent.

The opponent was carried off on a stretcher.

Peter felt a little nauseous.

But he did not back down.

He walked to the back of the line to register.

The line wasn't long; there were only three or four people at the front.

They were all stronger, taller, and looked more capable than him.

Twenty minutes had passed by the time it was his turn.

The Black woman in charge of registration sat behind a folding table, wearing a leopard-print top and sporting large, wavy hair.

He was chewing gum.

She looked up at Peter, her gaze sweeping over him from head to toe, then rolled her eyes.

"There are no lightweight matches here."

She looked past Peter and at the next contestant who had signed up.

"Next!"

"No, I want to participate!"

Peter's voice was louder and his tone was more forceful than he had expected.

The Black woman stopped moving.

She slowly turned her head and looked Peter up and down again.

"Alright."

She spoke slowly, her voice carrying a hint of uncertainty.

"You know that if you get injured in this match, the New York Wrestling Federation will absolutely not take any responsibility, right?"

"I know."

"Even so, you still volunteered?"

"certainly."

The Black woman stared at him for three seconds.

Then she shook her head and called over her assistant.

A young man, as thin as a bamboo pole, was wearing a baseball cap and carrying a stack of papers.

"Take him to fill out all these forms, then let him go on stage."

She paused, then added.

"Sign every single one."

She didn't want to end her career by letting Peter play.

The assistant led Peter to a nearby table and slammed the stack of disclaimers on it.

Peter glanced down.

First document: Declaration of Voluntary Participation.

Second document: Disclaimer.

The third document: Medical Exemption Certificate.

Fourth document: Commitment letter for accidental injury at one's own risk.

There were seven or eight of them.

Peter picked up his pen and signed them one by one.

The handwriting went from trembling to steady.

By the time he signed the last card, his hand had stopped shaking completely.

The assistant collected the forms and pointed towards the arena.

"Go on up, you're next."

In the wrestling ring.

The Big Mac had defeated his opponent countless times, lifting him high like a rag doll before slamming him down from the ring.

"Bang!"

The opponent crashed to the ground, rolled twice, and then lay still.

The cheers from the audience grew even louder.

The host raised the microphone, and his voice echoed through the space.

"Next victim, please come to the stage!"

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the audience, as if creating suspense.

"If he can hold on stage for three minutes, the three thousand yuan prize will be paid to him..."

He glanced down at the card in his hand and frowned.

"What's your name?"

A voice came from the corner, not loud, but exceptionally clear in the noisy environment.

"Humanoid spider...."

'

The host was taken aback for a moment.

Then he laughed.

"Terrible name!"

He decided to give this arrogant brat a different name.

"The 3,000 yuan bonus will be paid."

He raised his hand and pointed towards the ring.

"Terrifying and deadly"

Spider-Man!

Immediately afterwards, Peter appeared in the sight of all the audience members wearing a red and blue outfit.

A chorus of boos and laughter erupted from the audience.

Some people threw beer cans, some whistled, and some laughed loudly.

Spider-Man? Him?

"That tiny body of hers wouldn't last three seconds!"

"Go home and find your mother!"

Peter stood at the edge of the ring and took a deep breath.

He climbed onto the ring.

The rope was dangling in front of him, and there were many sweat stains and bloodstains on the floor, the source of which was unknown.

The light shone on his face, making him squint.

Hundreds of eyes were fixed on him from below the stage, like hundreds of lamps.

The giant stood opposite him, looking down at him.

There was no anger, no hostility, and not even contempt in his gaze.

It's just boring.

"Kid."

He spoke, his voice booming like thunder.

Are you sure?

Peter looked up at the mountain of flesh.

His heart was pounding wildly in his chest, his blood was rushing through his veins, and his palms were sweaty.

But he did not back down.

He stood on the stage, facing hundreds of eyes.

"Sure."

"Ring ring~"

The bell rang to start the wrestling match.

Two minutes later.

The roar from the entire audience was almost overwhelming.

Hundreds of mouths roared at the same time, hundreds of fists swung at the same time, and beer cans flew towards the ring from all directions, hitting the ropes, the floor, and even the back of the heads of the audience in the front row.

Some people were stomping their feet, some were smashing chairs, and some were cursing at the top of their lungs. The sounds mingled together like a pot of boiling porridge.

"A cover-up! A cover-up!"

"Refund! Refund!"

"Fucked match! This is fucking fixed!"

"I bet on the Big Mac to win! Give me my money back!"

On the arena, the behemoth, as large as a mountain of flesh, lay on the ground like a dead dog.

His massive body occupied a third of the arena, lying face down with one arm dangling beside his head and the other tucked under his body.

His breathing was heavy, his chest heaving like an old bellows.

But apart from that, he remained motionless.

That arm that once could lift a person above its head now lay limply on the floor, its fingers twitching slightly, like a fish that had been pulled ashore in its final struggle.

Peter stood on the stage, looking completely bewildered.

He looked down at his hands, then at the giant robot lying on the ground, then at the angry audience below the stage, and then looked down at his hands again.

Scratching head, jpg.

This is way too easy!

It was so simple that he thought he hadn't done anything.

He thought he would be beaten badly, that he would be lifted above his head and slammed down like the previous opponents, and that he would have to stay on stage for at least three minutes to get the three thousand yuan.

Nothing happened.

Two minutes, no, probably less than two minutes, and the Big Mac collapsed.

The referee rushed onto the ring, grabbed Peter's wrist, and lifted him high.

The referee was a bald man in his fifties, wearing a black and white striped shirt, with the fat on his stomach bulging out from the seams of his shirt.

But he moved quickly, as if afraid Peter would run away.

The host's voice boomed from the speakers, drowning out the boos from the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, a new winner has been crowned! It's Spider-Man!"

No one applauded.

"A cover-up! A cover-up!"

"Refund! Refund!"

"Spider-Man? More like spider poop!"