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"Yes, Elder Gu, you're absolutely right. In this 'Death Zone,' the survival rate is extremely low! Very few fighters manage to survive ten matches here without dying. Most of the black market fighters come from Europe, America, Russia, and Israel. Black fighters show up often, but Asians are rare. The matches here are different: there are both beast cage fights and nail mountain blood sea battles. Usually, someone dies in every match, whether it's team fights or solo battles! Hot weapons are banned, but cold weapons and even poisoned hidden weapons are allowed. Sometimes, there are even special man-versus-beast fights! Basically, everything is arranged for the audience's craving for bloody excitement!" Damian Shen spoke coldly and deliberately.
"Whoa, these matches are so brutal! How do the audience even handle it?" Shawn Young had never seen a place like this except in movies. He was baffled and couldn't help but ask.
"Heh, little brother, you really underestimate the human mind. First, these spectators are spiritually empty and need that kind of thrill! Lots of high-ranking mainland officials come here to watch death matches, reliving their political careers. Most of them are corrupt officials! They watch these bloody scenes for psychological comfort. And then there are the super-rich who have so much money they don't know what to do with it—their spirits are just as empty. They've tasted everything the world has to offer, and only matches like these can spark their interest! Plus, my service is top-notch. If any spectator can't handle the gore, we even provide vomit bags, haha!" Damian Shen said, his eyes flashing with a hardened, worldly glint.
After Damian Shen's explanation, Shawn Young felt a wave of emotion. After all he'd been through, he understood Damian wasn't wrong. The human world is basically a pyramid of deception and survival of the fittest. Only true powerhouses can stand at the top, looking down on everyone else.
Once he grasped this, Shawn Young felt a surge of fighting spirit. He said coldly to Damian Shen, "Good, we're here, we've seen your business. Can we get started now? I'm itching to see what your Eaststar Triple Kill Gauntlet is all about!"
"Uh, Shawn, don't you want me to introduce the Eaststar Triple Kill Gauntlet first? Once you're in the ring, your life and death are up to fate! Got anything you want to say to your crew? The fight won't end until someone wins or dies!" Damian Shen said seriously to Shawn Young.
"Well—since we're here, let's just go with it. I know our grudge can only be settled with blood! I'm ready. Let's get started! It's late and I'm getting hungry. After I beat your Eaststar Triple Kill, I need some supper." Shawn Young replied calmly, even starting to stretch and warm up.
"Good! Good! Young people really have guts! Daring to challenge—very nice!" Damian Shen laughed heartily, looking at Shawn Young's eager face. He felt a bit sentimental, patting his own forehead, thinking he was getting old. Then he waved to one of his men and said, "Start!"
"Master—please, be careful—" Yara Zen anxiously grabbed Shawn Young's arm, her face full of worry.
"Shawn, you—you have to be careful, you must survive, I—I—" May Gu said, her face full of concern for Shawn Young.
Seeing May Gu's hesitant expression, Shawn Young grew curious. He leaned in and whispered, "If I survive, what will you do?"
May Gu was stunned for a moment, then her beautiful face turned a lovely shade of red. She pursed her cherry lips, leaned close to Shawn's ear, whispered a few quick words, and retreated, blushing furiously. Shawn, hearing her promise, was immediately energized, his eyes shining as he nodded to her excitedly, "Don't worry! I'll definitely make it out alive—"
At that moment, Damian Shen's subordinate turned around and pressed a button on a row of guillotine switches. A massive steel cage slowly descended from above the ring, its railings lined with sharp, barbed iron spikes. Many of the spikes still had scraps of cloth and flesh mixed with dark, bloody stains, radiating a terrifying aura of death.
The cage covered the entire ring. A side passage opened, and three shirtless, muscular Western men entered. Their bodies bore scars of varying depth, and they wore only desert camouflage pants, each holding a military-grade dagger with a gleaming blade and blood groove. Anyone could tell—if you got slashed by one of those, the wound would never heal and you'd bleed out unless you got immediate, professional help!
The three Western men had dead, soulless eyes, with a hint of cruel, bloodthirsty light. Standing in the ring, their faces blank, it seemed only killing could interest them.
"These are the 'Chechen Wolf Pack' brothers I hired from Chechnya at great expense. They're all former Chechen soldiers—what people call 'Chechen terrorists.' They've fought countless brutal battles against Russian special forces and survived as elite warriors! Besides dagger combat, they're also skilled in Sambo! Shawn, it's your turn! The first round of the Eaststar Triple Kill Gauntlet is against them! Your fight with them is a dagger battle! Here—this is your weapon." Damian Shen said coldly, tossing Shawn a special ops 'Tiger Fang Blade.' His eyes flashed with a savage gleam, as if he could already see Shawn and the three ruthless Chechen killers tearing each other apart. He knew—dagger fights are especially bloody and brutal, and those three excel at close-quarters combat. To them, there is no good or evil—only the living and the dead!
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Staring at the three menacing 'Chechen Wolf Pack' brothers, Shawn Young could feel the overwhelming killing intent radiating from them—a brutal, iron-blooded aura forged through countless life-and-death battles. Yet Shawn felt no fear. He took the Tiger Fang Blade, tested its weight, and, in a flash, leapt into the ring. As the cage door locked shut, Shawn let out a sharp cry and launched the first attack against the Chechen soldiers!
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
A flurry of cold weapons clashing sent sparks flying across the ring, dazzling to watch. In under five seconds, the four fighters had already exchanged dozens of blows!
The three Chechen Wolf Pack brothers worked together with perfect coordination, clearly trained in advanced dagger techniques. Their offense and defense were efficient—every move counted, no wasted strikes! Obviously, only countless brutal battles could forge such teamwork. The four tangled in a fierce melee, while Shawn Young darted like a swallow through a storm, nimbly dodging into a corner of the ring.
Just as he turned, three blades flashed—upper, middle, and lower—blocking his retreat, their intent clear: to finish him off in one strike!
But Shawn's face turned cold. Instead of retreating, he advanced, his body blurring like a speeding shadow. Channeling true energy into his Tiger Fang Blade, he unleashed a flurry of strikes—"Ding! Ding! Ding!" Three sparks flashed, and the Chechen soldiers felt a numbing force shatter their grip, their hands bleeding as their daggers flew from the ring. Shawn twisted free of their encirclement, then, before they could react, shook his blade and roared, "Kill!!"
With Shawn's explosive shout, his Tiger Fang Blade flew from his hand, sinking straight into the throat of the middle soldier. The man shuddered, crashed backward to the floor, clutching his throat to pull out the blade, but soon his body convulsed, blood gushing out. Eyes wide, he died instantly!
The remaining two, though their teamwork was disrupted, ignored their fallen comrade. Faces blank, they growled and charged Shawn again. This time, their moves were bizarre—they rolled along the ground, attacking from close range. The suddenness caught Shawn off guard, and one managed to entangle his legs, twisting hard to throw him down. The other leapt up, aiming to crush Shawn with a knee strike!
Shawn was startled but stayed calm. Suddenly, he twisted, unleashing a burst of "Lightning Strike Force" from within. His hands became knife-edges, slicing through the air. Two sprays of blood burst out, legs flying into the air. The two Chechen Wolf Pack brothers screamed in agony, clutching their severed legs, unable to fight anymore.
The situation changed too fast—Damian Shen was dumbfounded. He stood up, eyes flashing as he looked at Shawn Young on the ring. With a complex expression, he waved his hand, and the steel cage slowly rose. The ring shook violently; Shawn quickly steadied himself. The two crippled Chechen soldiers lost their balance and tumbled off the ring, landing on a bed of long spikes below. Blood gushed from their impaled bodies as they howled in agony, dying in a frenzy of pain!