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

In the arena stands, the front-row spectators craned their necks to see what this idiot who dared to challenge the god of pleasure looked like.

"How many minutes can that physique last?"

"So skinny? Doesn't look like it can fight much."

"Let's make a bet, how many moves do you think he can withstand?"

"How many moves can he withstand? He should be torn to pieces."

……

The voices of the crowd echoed throughout the arena.

As Zhanxin emerged, he was greeted by cheers.

Unlike Lin Mo, Zhan Xin was not indifferent. He spread his arms and waved elegantly in a circle to the four sides of the stands.

Several female spectators in gorgeous long dresses leaned out of their boxes and waved handkerchiefs at him.

Zhan Xin tilted his head slightly, a polite yet slightly smug smile on his lips, and spoke in a low voice to Lin Mo behind him.

"Popularity is also important here; people are more willing to bet on you if they like you. Since you're new, don't expect too much from this round. Just make sure the minimum bet is enough to last you a few rounds, and then... Hey? Where are you going?"

Before he could finish speaking, Lin Mo had already walked past him and headed straight for the three orcs on the other side of the sand.

His steps were unhurried, the soles of his boots making a soft rustling sound on the soft sand, and the hem of his black robe dragged across the sand, leaving a shallow groove.

The noise from the stands paused for a moment, then exploded like a powder keg being lit.

"What's that idiot in the black robe trying to do? The competition hasn't even started yet!"

A fat man in a striped silk robe sprang up from his seat, his gambling tickets crumpled in his hand, spittle flying from between his teeth as he spoke excitedly.

"He's not thinking of taking on three by himself, is he? With only 10% of his strength?! Has he been brainwashed by orcs?"

A heavily made-up female audience member leaned out of the box, twirling a strand of blonde hair that hung over her shoulder, her voice sharp and gloating.

"Didn't Lord Huanyu say he drew his sword in the street? I thought he was at least a smart guy, but he's just a reckless fool courting death!"

The dwarves in the back row were overjoyed, and some of them pulled out new betting tickets from their pockets to place bets on the spot, shouting into the arena as they wrote.

"Bet on the orcs! Bet the maximum! Bet until you're broke! This kid didn't even wait for the Heart-Severing Technique, he deserves to die!"

……

Lin Mo ignored these voices.

He walked across most of the arena and stopped less than five steps away from the three orc brothers.

The largest of the three brothers is Wotong.

The black iron eyepatch over his right eye gleamed with a cold, hard metallic luster under the arena lights, and he didn't even lift his eyelids when he saw Lin Mo approaching.

"Little one, if I remember correctly, you can only use 10% of your fighting strength, right? And this is your first time participating in the competition. Get lost. We brothers have discussed it and plan to kill you at the end. You'd better run fast then. These spectators love watching cat and mouse."

When Wotong said this, he even had a smile on his face, a smile that was incredibly creepy.

Lin Mo looked up at him, but her steps did not falter.

"So you'll kill me last? But I plan to kill you first."

As soon as he finished speaking, he took a step forward, twisted his right fist from his waist to generate force, and shot out like a spring that had been compressed and then suddenly released.

This punch was not aided by any laws or enhanced by any skills; it was purely the primal force generated by the muscle fibers of the human race's ultimate physical body contracting on the surface of the bones.

The fist, accompanied by the sound of wind breaking, slammed solidly into Wotong's chin.

Click—!

The crisp sound of bones shattering mingled with the muffled thud of fists colliding, all exploding simultaneously.

Wotong was sent flying backwards, his feet leaving the ground, by the punch.

The two-handed battle axe flew from between the exhausted fingers, tumbled several times in the air, and stuck into the iron railing at the edge of the sand.

His back slammed against the arena wall, creating a spiderweb-like crack, and pebbles fell down in a flurry.

"You...how could you..."

After uttering these three words, Wo Tong tilted his head to one side, spitting out a mouthful of blood and foam mixed with broken teeth. His eyes were still open, but they were already unfocused.

quiet--

The entire arena seemed to have been put on pause.

The businessman in the front row, holding a wine glass, froze in mid-air.

The dwarf in the back row, who had been shouting for bets on the orcs, silently dropped his betting ticket.

The female spectator, who had just been gloating, covered her mouth with both hands.

But the most shocked person was Zhanxin behind him, who stood at the edge of the sand with his mouth slightly open.

"This...this guy..."

The host was the first to react.

He stood there stunned for a full three breaths before taking a deep breath.

beep--!

The whistle was sharp and urgent, like a thunderclap in the deathly silent arena.

"The match begins!"

The whistle jolted Voyin and Vojin awake from their shock.

The two men drew their weapons almost simultaneously.

"Damn! We've run into a tough one!"

"Calm down! He must have used some kind of skill! Cooperate well."

Vol'jin's recurve blades drew two cold, silver arcs in the light reflected from the sand, while Vol'jin's chain gauntlets rattled as he clenched his fists.

Two pairs of bloodshot eyes stared intently at Lin Mo.

Lin Mo subconsciously reached for the hilt of the black sword.

His fingertips touched the dent on the hilt of the sword, worn smooth from countless grips, and then he withdrew his hand.

Killing them was too easy; one strike from the black sword and they were gone.

With his current physical strength, he could easily defeat these two orcs even without any attribute enhancements.

But that wasn't why he came here.

His goal was to regain his strength and then rush out to find Huanyu.

The way to get these viewers to willingly add to their bets is not by killing them with a single sword strike, but by performing.

So he approached the two orcs, who had already drawn their weapons, with his bare hands.

Woyin's recurve twin blades slashed first, the silver blade light weaving into a net that blocked all of Lin Mo's evasive angles.

Wojnarowski's chain gauntlets slammed into his temple from the side, the rusty spikes on the gauntlets whistling through the air.

Lin Mo sidestepped the frontal slash of the blade net, parried Vol'jin's fist with his left hand, and used his right fist to strike Vol'jin's chest from his waist.

The fist slammed into Woyin's ribs.

puff!

The cracking sound of ribs breaking was accompanied by a mouthful of blood spurting from Woyin's mouth onto the sand.

Wojnarowski seized the opportunity to slam his chain gauntlets into Lin Mo's back, tearing several holes in his black robe with the iron spikes.

But when faced with ten percent of Lin Mo's strength, the chains snapped and the spikes bent.

Lin Mo turned around and punched Woking in the stomach.

The force was controlled just right, causing the golden-skinned orc to kneel on the sand, clutching his stomach and dry heaving uncontrollably.

Then he bent down, picked up the silver from the ground, and punched it in the shoulder blade.

The cracking sound of bones breaking was so clear that the audience in the front row could hear it.

Each of his punches landed precisely on a spot that wouldn't be fatal but would cause excruciating pain.

Each kick targets a joint that renders the person immobile but does not knock them unconscious.

Blood gushed from the mouths and noses of the two orcs, from their torn skin and shattered joints, staining the sandy arena with patches of dark red, damp stains.

The stands erupted in gasps of surprise.

"Is this true? He really only has 10% of his strength!?"

"Ten percent is already this strong, I can't even imagine what it would be like to be one hundred percent."

"Fantastic! Haha, that's amazing! This isn't a gladiatorial combat; it's a one-sided massacre! So exciting!"

The initial shock gradually turned into cheers.

People started standing up from their seats, crumpling their betting tickets into balls and throwing them into the air. Some started whistling frantically at the audience, while others took off their coats and swung them around in the air.

"Raise the bet! Raise it for me! All in on that white... no! Black-faced monster!"

"Fill it up! Go all in! Put all the remaining money in my account into that black-robed human's account!"

"Hurry home! Sell the house! Sell the carriage! Pawn everything! This is free money!"

……

The spectators who had bet on the orcs to win were now filled with regret, since the casino rules allowed for raising bets but not switching sides after the game started.

Almost no one at the scene bet on Lin Mo to win; those who had bet on the human camp to win were now raising their bets like madmen.

Zhanxin stood at the edge of the sand, his arms hanging down at some point.

The longsword, which had been sharpened all morning, slipped from his shoulder and stuck in the sand, its blade swaying slightly.

"This...this guy seems to be stronger than me."