My mom is waiting for treatment, and you're summoning me to be a hero?

The first group to perform consisted of two boys.

A man dressed in coarse cloth shorts, holding an iron sword in his hand.

The other was wearing worn leather armor and carrying a wooden staff.

The referee's hand fell, and the two moved at the same time.

The boy with the sword acted first, thrusting his iron sword straight into the other's chest.

The child with the staff hurriedly retreated, muttering incantations.

A fireball the size of a fist condensed at the tip of the staff and was hastily thrown out.

The fireball flew erratically, grazing the boy's shoulder without even catching fire to his clothes.

But the boy was startled, his attack faltered, and the two distanced themselves again.

Then came a long standoff.

You stab me with your sword, I step back.

I'll chant a spell, you need to hide.

The two circled around the ring, neither daring to get really close.

Occasionally, weapons would clash with a "clang," then quickly separate.

Cheers erupted continuously from the stands.

Lin Mo leaned back in his chair, watching the battle below that seemed to him to be moving at a snail's pace, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper.

"boring."

He spoke, his voice not loud, but loud enough for the surrounding family heads to hear.

"That sword just now should have gone straight into his throat, killing him instantly."

Yin Xue leaned against the railing, took a sip of his red wine, and nodded.

"Yes, at the very least, we should cut off an arm to incapacitate the enemy."

The expressions of those family heads changed simultaneously.

They stared wide-eyed at the two men, their expressions incredibly varied.

I can't believe they uttered such vile and inhuman words.

Is that so?

They're just kids!

Do teenagers fighting really warrant death? And even cutting off an arm?

If that sword had actually landed, what a tremendous psychological blow it would have been to a child of ten years old.

Lin Mo ignored those stares.

He continued to look at the arena below, shaking his head repeatedly.

He really looked down on this battle.

Slow to react, weak in movement, and devoid of any murderous intent.

It's not just that he's become more sophisticated after getting stronger; even a street brawl on Earth would be more entertaining than this.

He yawned.

My eyelids started to feel heavy.

The sun felt warm on my skin, and the aroma of tea and snacks wafted over from all around.

He closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair, and fell asleep.

Yin Xue glanced at him, scoffed, and continued watching the game.

The surrounding family heads looked at each other, none of them daring to utter a sound.

The matches continued one after another.

The referee's voice was sometimes loud and sometimes calm, announcing the names and outcomes of each contestant.

Cheers erupted from the stands, occasionally punctuated by the sound of a child crying…

That was the young player who lost the game, and his fate was to have no future in the family that took him in.

Lin Mo was sleeping soundly.

until……

"Now entering the stage is—Miss Ye An!!"

The referee's voice suddenly rose eight octaves, and he shouted at the top of his lungs, as if he had been injected with adrenaline:

"The eldest daughter of the Marcus family! At only fourteen years old, she has already surpassed level twenty!! She is a strong contender for this year's championship!!!"

The entire venue erupted in cheers.

Cheers erupted like a tsunami, and people in the stands stood up, craning their necks to look towards the entrance of the ring.

Lin Mo was awakened by the noise.

He frowned, opened his eyes, and looked down.

A young girl is walking out of the players' tunnel.

She wore a set of light silver-white armor, with exquisite patterns engraved on the plates, which shimmered in the sunlight.

Two short daggers were tucked into his waistband, their hilts inlaid with gems, clearly valuable magical weapons.

She walked steadily, her back straight, her chin slightly raised.

His gaze swept across the stands, seemingly oblivious to the cheers, displaying a composure beyond his years.

Fourteen years old, grade 20.

He's definitely a genius in this world.

This is not just about piling up resources; talent also plays a significant role.

After all, in this world, you need to absorb essence to level up.

Being too young and immature makes it highly likely that one will fail.

At best, it could result in serious injury; at worst, it could lead to permanent disability.

Breaking through to level 20 requires consuming 3 essences, and it is indeed not easy for a 14-year-old to do so.

Her opponent also emerged from the other side of the passage.

It was a boy, who looked a year or two younger than Ye An.

He was dressed in coarse cloth and held an ordinary iron sword in his hand.

His expression was bitter; he kept his head down and walked very slowly, as if every step he took was leading him to the execution ground.

He walked up to Ye An, cupped his hands in a respectful bow, and his voice trembled:

"Please...please, young lady, show mercy."

Ye An looked at him and nodded slightly.

"Okay, I understand."

The referee's hand fell.

The boy drew his iron sword and assumed a defensive stance.

Ye An also moved.

She was much faster than the previous children.

Two daggers flashed in the sunlight, aiming straight for the boy's throat and chest!

The boy was startled and retreated desperately, wildly swinging his iron sword, barely managing to parry the first blow.

But the second cut came right away, slashing towards his ribs.

He couldn't dodge in time, and his flesh was cut open, with blood seeping out.

"ah--!"

He screamed and staggered backward.

Ye An did not stop.

Her dagger was like a venomous snake, slashing again and again, each strike aimed at a vital spot.

The boy struggled to stay afloat, and soon he had four or five wounds on his body.

The coarse cloth clothes were stained with blood.

"Young Miss! Young Miss, spare my life!"

He begged for mercy while dodging backwards, and finally turned and ran, tumbling and crawling off the stage.

The referee raised his hand: "Miss Ye An wins—!!"

An even louder cheer erupted from the stands.

People applauded enthusiastically, cheering for the Marcus family's gifted young girl.

Ye An stood on the arena, sheathing his sword, his face expressionless.

She glanced at the boy who had fled the ring, then turned and left.

Throughout the entire process, her face remained completely expressionless.

It's like I just casually swatted a fly to death.

Lin Mo frowned slightly as he watched this scene.

It wasn't because Ye An was ruthless; that kind of ruthlessness was no different from child's play in his eyes.

Instead, he was thinking, what would happen if Ye An went up against Mianmian?

But then Lin Mo thought about it again and felt relieved.

The number of those who have been devoured by the gods has long exceeded double digits, and if all else fails, there is still the elementalization as a fallback.

Not to mention these children, even among the family heads around her, few could pose a threat to Mianmian.

He didn't speak, but simply looked away.

He watched the next few games absentmindedly.

until……

"Next match! Mianmian versus Young Master Tru!"

Lin Mo's spirits immediately lifted.

He sat up straight and looked towards the ring.

A small figure is walking out of the players' tunnel.

She still wore that white cloak, and still had that long, silvery-white hair.

Mianmian walked very slowly, looking around as she went, as if she was curious about everything.

She walked onto the ring, stood to one side, and then looked up at the platform.

She saw Lin Mo.

Those eyes suddenly curved into crescent moons.

She raised her hands and waved them vigorously, her little face full of a silly smile.

Lin Mo's lips curved slightly.

He raised his hand and waved at her.

Mianmian smiled even more happily.

She jumped up and down twice, then remembered she was still in a competition, so she quickly stood up straight, but her eyes were still fixed on looking this way.

A boy walked out from the other side of the passage.

He was half a head taller than Mianmian, wearing a set of exquisite iron armor, the plates of which were polished to a gleaming shine that was dazzling in the sunlight.

The knight's longsword at his waist was clearly no ordinary weapon; its scabbard was inlaid with gemstones.

He walked steadily, his chin slightly raised, his gaze sweeping across the stands, a smug smile on his face at the cheers.

Young Master Tru.

I don't know which family they belong to.

He walked onto the ring and glanced at the little girl in the cloak opposite him.

A slight, disdainful smile curled at the corner of his lips.

The referee raised his hand, about to announce the start of the match.

Just then, Tru suddenly drew his sword and charged towards Mianmian!

"An opening! Take this sword from me!"