Four giant screens, each one paired with a coffin. Jill Young could see herself on one, and three others on the rest. One was a white woman in military uniform, her features striking, head shaved in a buzz cut, glaring straight into the camera. Another was a white woman dressed as a nun, blonde and blue-eyed, hands clasped at her chest as she whispered a prayer. The last was an elegant East Asian beauty with long black hair, sitting quietly in the corner with her eyes closed, radiating calm.
"Let me give you a quick intro to these four, so you know their real worth. First up, the two Demons. In our Six of Spades, a 'Demon' means someone powerful—talented, determined, ruthless, the best in the business. And today, both Demons happen to be gorgeous women, which makes them even more valuable!"
The host walked over to the third coffin from the left—the one with the buzz-cut soldier inside. "This is an Israeli soldier, but she's much more than that. After years of grueling training, she proved herself just as tough as any man. In the field—well, maybe it wasn't a drill—she charged ahead without hesitation. Ladies and gentlemen, meet the youngest major in Israeli history, crowned at just twenty-four, the legendary commando queen: Fran Adler!"
On screen, footage rolled of her charging through gunfire and receiving medals, looking every bit the badass. The crowd's eyes started to light up.
"Hey, Fran," the host tapped on the crystal coffin, "got anything to say to the crowd? One of these folks could end up your master—or your worst nightmare. But keep it in English, okay? My Hebrew's a little rusty."
Inside the crystal coffin, Fran clenched her jaw, slammed her fist against the glass, and roared, "F.U.C.K—YOU!!"
"Ha! Nice English. A Demon with real Demon attitude, I like it! Fran Adler, starting bid: ten million dollars. That's my super special friend price. But don't rush—I've got another Demon to introduce."
The host finally stopped in front of Jill Young, pointing her out: "Folks, this woman with the dazzling hair and top-tier looks—her identity will blow your minds. She's the new emperor of the world underground fighting circuit, the Bloody Queen who beat every man as a woman! She's insanely dangerous. Our staff paid with their lives to catch her. Full anesthesia, over two days of starvation, reinforced glass coffin—if not for all that, I wouldn't dare stand this close!"
On screen, clips played of Jill Young dominating the Blood Pit, the crowd roaring for their queen. Some people in the audience started breathing heavy, itching to get in on the action.
"Bloody Queen, always so tough, now you're just a pile of limp clay thanks to the drugs. How's that for a new experience?" The host pressed a clown mask to the crystal coffin, voice low and slow. "Your price is even higher—starting at thirty million dollars. I'm sure whoever wins will be very careful 'using' you. So, got anything to say? I hope it's more creative than Fran's."
Jill Young glanced at him, then jerked her chin toward the two coffins on her right. "Who are those two?"
"Oh—really?!" The host stepped back, voice shrill with surprise. "Faced with all this terror and uncertainty, you just want to know who your fellow prisoners are? I've seen all kinds of reactions on this stage, but never anything as creative as this!"
"Cut the crap. Just tell me who they are." Jill's tone was tough and to the point. The host and the crowd exchanged looks, caught between laughing and disbelief.
"Alright, alright, I'll be merciful and keep it brief. The first one to your right—the blonde nun—is a true Saint. She grew up in a church orphanage, learned medicine, and traveled the world healing the sick. In five years, she crossed countless disease zones, war zones, and famine zones. She treated the living, prayed for the dead, and raised food for starving refugees. To those she's helped, she's an angel incarnate. She's called—Saint Beatrice."
Jill Young glanced at the nun inside the crystal coffin; the nun looked back. Jill gave her a subtle wink, and though the nun wasn't sure what it meant, she nodded slightly in return.
"Last up, we've got—what do you call it in Chinese? A 'fairy.' She grew up in a temple on Emei Mountain, living a pure, ascetic life. She never formally took vows, but just look at her and you'll know what 'otherworldly' really means."
"Alright, got it." Jill raised her hand and tapped on the glass in front of her. "Is this tempered glass?"
"Yep, all your coffins are made of tempered glass, so forget about breaking out. The glass around the stage is custom bulletproof stuff—unless you've got a cannon, a tank, or maybe an ancient catapult, you're out of luck." The host explained reflexively, then couldn't help but add, "Are you nuts? Do you get your situation here? I could kill you right now and you wouldn't be able to do a thing!"
"I don't see it that way. Actually, I think you're the one who doesn't get it." Jill raised her right hand high, flashed a middle finger at the host with her left. "You pissed off the wrong people, so just wait for your doom!"
The host froze for a second, then burst out laughing. "I'm standing right here—let's see you try!"
The next moment, something appeared out of thin air in Jill Young's right hand—a metal ball, a bit bigger than a bowling ball. She dropped it straight down; it crashed into the bottom of the coffin with a thunderous bang, shattering the reinforced glass like it was hit by a cannon. The four sides wobbled, and the super glue holding the glass together suddenly seemed about as strong as a kid's craft project.
Jill Young kicked the front glass panel, sending it flying. Like a tiger unleashed, murder in her eyes, she lunged at the host, smashing a heavy fist down on his head and slamming him to the ground. With a nasty crack of his spine, the host seemed to shrink a few inches.
As the host lay sprawled out, Jill raised her leg and delivered a brutal kick to his face. The sound of bone shattering mixed with a scream as the host was sent flying, blood spraying from beneath his clown mask. With fury in her eyes, Jill followed up with a savage elbow strike—crack! The back of the host's head hit his spine, and he collapsed without a sound.
"See? That's how I take your life."
"Ah—!" Someone in the audience screamed, others shot to their feet in panic. Alarms blared through the hall, red warning lights flashing everywhere.
Jill ignored the sellers, grabbed a shard of glass and threw it, shattering a camera in the corner. Then she strode over to Fran Adler's coffin. "There must be a control button somewhere, there has to be!" Jill was still only at the second level of Dragon Elephant Power, so she couldn't use the fifty-kilo metal ball as a weapon yet.
But she quickly found what she was looking for. With a click, the lock released, and Major Fran Adler was freed from her coffin.
"Nice work, sister!" Fran clapped Jill on the shoulder, excitement in her eyes but still keeping cool. "Let's team up and bust out of this hellhole!"
Crash! A door at the back of the stage banged open, footsteps echoed outside. Jill made a snap decision: "You go free the other two, I'll hold the door!" "Got it!" Fran dashed for the other coffins while Jill rushed to brace the door. The next instant—bang!—a heavy force slammed into the door from the other side. Clearly, a lot of people were trying to break in.
Bang, bang, bang! There were plenty of people on the other side, and each hit rattled Jill to her bones. But the pounding also fired up her body, speeding her blood flow and helping her burn off the last of the sedatives.
"How's it going? I can't hold much longer!" There were too many attackers; Jill couldn't hold the door alone, and it was about to burst open. Just then, "Don't worry, I've got it!" Fran charged over, throwing her shoulder against the door to steady it.
"I found this!" Saint Beatrice hurried over, iron rod in hand. Jill grinned, "Good job—jam it in the handle!" With a creak, the rod locked the heavy door in place and the pressure eased.
"Wait, what about the other one?" Jill looked at Fran.
"She's blind, and her legs are crippled. Can't do much, so I left her in the back."
"Blind? And crippled? Jeez, that's rough."
Just then, the attackers outside realized the door wouldn't budge and stopped pounding. Jill, Fran, and Beatrice exchanged glances. Fran pressed her ear to the door, face suddenly tense: "Down, now!"
Bang bang bang—gunshots ripped through the door, leaving bullet holes everywhere. Luckily Fran's warning was quick; all three dropped to the floor and stayed safe. But the gunfire kept coming, pinning them down. If the door got shredded, they'd all be done for.
"We need a plan!" Jill looked around, then dove for a shard of glass. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it flying through a bullet hole—there was a grunt outside and the shooting paused. Someone got hit, but it wasn't enough to solve the problem.
"Over here!" Suddenly, a pleasant voice called out—in Chinese. Even Fran and Beatrice turned to look. The blind girl was crawling nearby, waving at them. "I think I found a way out!"
She pressed her hand to the floor, and with a swipe, opened up a hole—the same one where the first coffin had dropped down.