"You've totally misunderstood me. I wasn't trying to insult you—I'm just honestly saying this is all you're worth." The man in the white suit spread his hands. "Insulting someone only works when they're at your level, like humans insulting their enemies. But to me, you're just a pig. Why would I bother insulting a pig?"
"You—" Liu Zihao, the boss, was about to roar, but his manager pulled him back. Turning around, he saw the big guys around the hall already raising their guns at him, as if saying, "Say one more word and you're dead." The other bosses were getting restless, but honestly, coming to some mysterious place for a Black Fist Tournament hosted by the organizers was pretty normal. Nothing seemed all that special about this time.
But now, they all had a bad feeling, and their faces were turning pale.
Amid the panicked crowd, Phantom Mask suddenly spoke up, his voice steady and powerful, not the least bit flustered: "Mr. Zade, guests are guests—this is how you treat your visitors?"
"Oh? Someone with guts, huh? No wonder Phantom Mask could raise a Bloody Queen." The flashy guy on the screen pointed his cane playfully at Phantom Mask. "Maybe you're one of the rare few among these pigs who actually resemble a human. But spare me the talk about hospitality—a pig is a pig, how could it ever be a guest?"
In a lavish hall, on a luxurious stage, Donald Zade looked around. Anyone in intelligence would be shocked by the identities of the people below. There weren't many, but every single one was a true underground big shot. To ordinary folks, they might be unknown, but their real power was absolutely terrifying.
Donald Zade gave a shallow bow to the crowd: "Ladies and gentlemen, the timing is perfect—please enjoy my Donald Zade Product Launch. I'll be showing off my new product in all kinds of direct ways. And first, let's watch something happening on the island right now."
"And—" Donald glanced at a screen showing the fighters' hall. "As a special favor, you pigs get to watch too. You should be grateful."
Whoosh—the big screen flashed, showing a full map of the island. The map was simple and clear, marking all the terrain. In the southeast, a cluster of blinking red dots was slowly moving this way.
"Maybe you're all wondering what those red dots are. Well, let's take a good look." Donald clapped his hands, and the screen switched to an outdoor scene. On the grasslands, a group of soldiers was advancing. They were fully armed, moving with skill—even Jack Young, a total amateur, could sense their elite military vibe. That careful yet confident way they carried themselves was something only years of life-or-death battles could produce—not something you can fake.
Jack Young didn't recognize them, but someone did. One of the bosses exclaimed, "Scar? These guys are mercenaries—Scar?"
The other bosses started whispering. Jack glanced at Jonathan Black, who said quietly, "Scar is one of the world's most famous mercenary groups, known for their top-notch combat skills."
"That's right, these guys are Scar." Donald's voice came through the speakers. "And it's not just them—several other merc teams have secretly landed on the island too. Take a look—" The screen switched, showing squad after squad of soldiers. With the bosses gasping, Jack realized these were elite mercenaries from all over the world.
They all had the same style and quick movements. Some even spotted the cameras on the island. When the view switched to Scar, the leader noticed something, raised his gun, and shot at the screen. Crash—the display went blank.
"Hahahaha!" The camera was destroyed, but Donald sounded thrilled. "See how awesome they are? All my carefully placed cameras got spotted just like that." The screen switched back to Donald, who shrugged. "Four whole teams of top mercenaries, charging in all bloodthirsty. They’ve all got the same goal—someone hired them to kill. And their target—me."
"These pros are strong, as you all know—they’ve pulled off plenty of slick decapitation missions. They’re not official troops, but for special ops, they’re world-class. I guess I should be worried about my own neck, but honestly, I’m not. First off, I know exactly who hired them to kill me—it’s me. Second, I’ve got fighters way stronger than them." Donald clapped. "Let me show you my first new product: Super Soldier Type I!"
On the map, some blue dots started blinking in the forest area—those must be Donald's "Super Soldier Type I." Judging by the numbers, there were only about a quarter as many blue dots as red ones. Looks like Donald planned to face the enemy while seriously outnumbered.
"By the way, to make this demo fair and clear, I didn't give those super soldiers any extra intel." Donald said with a grin. "They're on their own in this skirmish."
The guests' eyes all flashed with disbelief—they knew exactly how good those mercs were. Some had even worked with them before and understood just how powerful these iron-blooded mercenaries were. Humans have limits, and these mercs were pretty much at the edge. Beating one in a one-on-one was impressive enough, but one against four? Was Donald joking?
These guests played it cool, not showing much on their faces, but clearly, nobody had much faith in Donald’s so-called "new product."
(This chapter isn’t over yet ^.^, please click next page to keep reading!)
But soon, everyone’s eyes grew serious—the screen switched to one of the 'Super Soldiers.' The guy didn’t look special, gear or build-wise, but one guest watched his movements and couldn’t help but ask, "Isn’t that uphill terrain?"
Yep, it was a long, steep uphill. But that Super Soldier was sprinting up with a heavy gun, as fast as a hundred-meter dash on flat ground. Any normal person would be wiped out after just a few dozen meters, but this guy ran all the way to the top, then climbed a tree and raised his sniper rifle.
Bang! A shot rang out—a red dot vanished. He ejected the shell, reloaded, aimed, and fired again! Bang! Another shot, another red dot gone.
That kind of sharpness and stability is impossible for someone who's half dead from exhaustion. Watching the sniper dodge return fire, one guest frowned and said, "Steroids?"
"Nope, not steroids." Donald replied. "I wouldn’t use something so low-class. My Super Soldiers are a fundamental evolution—a real leap forward!"
Those two sniper shots seemed to kick off the slaughter—the two sides started fighting up close on screen. The Super Soldiers were impressive: their speed, power, and reflexes were all way beyond normal.
"Everyone knows humans can't use all their strength. It's like we've got some invisible lock, some God-given limit, holding us back." Donald raised his voice, echoing through both halls. "But I've found a way to break through! The Super Soldier Evolution Agent lets warriors unleash power beyond reason!"
In the fighters' hall, Jack Young’s eyes flashed. The Super Soldiers on screen were almost at the Titan Spirit Method: Second Stage level. Jack never imagined that one day, there’d be a whole army at that level. In martial arts terms, that's the second stage of body training—a fighter at that stage is already called a 'Grandmaster.' Most Grandmasters are just beginners at that level, but these Super Soldiers were nearly perfect.
Over a hundred fighters at Grandmaster level—even if they hadn’t learned martial arts, they’d be unstoppable in close combat. On a battlefield with guns, they were already an elite special ops force!
This Donald guy is seriously something else.