The Butcher of Demons was dead. The atmosphere that had just exploded in the stands instantly plummeted to freezing point.

No one had expected the man bearing the Bad Luck Number to emerge victorious, much less that the frenzied Butcher of Demons would die, and so simply—in the hands of the owner of the Bad Luck Number, the mad Butcher of Demons looked as fragile as a child. Many people rubbed their eyes vigorously, still unable to believe the reality before them.

They had waited so long just to witness the Butcher of Demons’ humiliating and cruel methods of slaughter—the scenes of spurting blood and ceaseless screams were what they had anticipated most. Yet, this Butcher of Demons, who had created countless moments of excitement for the crowd, was gone in an instant, before a large portion of the audience had even seen what happened.

People stared blankly at Qin Fen, the bearer of card number forty-four, as he calmly stepped down from the ring. He walked over to the scruffy-bearded man, who looked equally surprised, handed over his card, and stated, "Please arrange my next match.

I need money." Qin Fen's voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly throughout the hall, which had excellent acoustics. "You...

you killed the Butcher of Demons... that alone will earn you a great deal of money." The scruffy-bearded man pushed three thousand yuan toward Qin Fen.

"This is all yours." "Not enough. I need a lot of money." Qin Fen decisively tossed the card onto the man's desk.

"Please arrange my next match." "Oh... alright." The scruffy-bearded man quickly input Qin Fen's number back into the computer.

The other fighters' eyes were filled with astonishment. This person holding the Bad Luck Number had actually won.

And he had dispatched the Butcher of Demons cleanly and swiftly. They found it even harder to believe that Number Forty-Four, after securing the victory, did not take the winnings to indulge himself but instead chose to fight again.

Two fights in one day—such a thing rarely occurred in [Bloody Frenzy]. After all, every bout required adjusting one's spirit and stamina to their absolute peak.

It was difficult for one person to achieve several peaks in a single day. Sent gently raised his fleshy hand and instinctively touched his heart beneath the thick layer of fat, recalling the scene at the inn not long ago with a lingering sense of fear.

If... if this man had been a little more ruthless back then...

Vincent swallowed hard to calm the heart that felt ready to leap out of his chest. Underground Level Three was not the recognized viewing area for the duels but a space lined with rows of monitors.

Many staff members watched the screens without daring to relax their focus for a moment. On this Underground Level Three, there was also a separate, spacious office.

The man sitting in this office, sipping red wine, was Macacho, the owner of [Bloody Frenzy]. An urgent knocking interrupted his enjoyment of the wine.

The person who entered saluted Macacho like a soldier, reporting, "General, the Butcher of Demons is dead." "Dead?" Macacho, seated in the boss's chair, reached up to stroke his shiny, bald head, asking with little change in expression, "Was he unlucky? Did he draw the dark-fated Chen Feiyu, or the vicious Bian Lice?" "Neither.

He drew the new Number Forty-Four." Macacho finally showed a flicker of interest, taking a small sip of his wine. "Oh?

The Bad Luck Number? How injured is Number Forty-Four?

To be able to take down the Butcher of Demons, he must have some skill." The reporter looked worried. The General's temper was not good; if every answer differed from his guesses, the messenger might not fare well.

Hesitating slightly, the reporter saw the knife-like sharpness in Macacho's eyes and quickly added, "He... he wasn't injured.

With a single strike, he tore out the Butcher of Demons' heart, and the Butcher didn't even realize he had lost his heart." "What?" A slight ripple disturbed the red wine in Macacho’s glass. "The Butcher of Demons died from a single attack?

And killed by the very technique he specialized in? Interesting.

I'll go take a look." Macacho lowered his glass and walked out of the office to stand before the monitors. He spotted the matchup board which read: Number Forty-Four VS Unscathed Chen Feiyu.

Macacho looked at the staff member beside him, surprise etched on his brow. "Fighting twice in one day?" "Report, General.

According to him, he is short on money." Hearing the title "General," Macacho nodded happily. In the Golden Triangle, titles like Boss or Big Brother were used by mere thugs; truly respected figures were addressed as General.

Although Macacho's personal strength might not fully warrant the title of General, here he could enjoy this supreme honor. "Short on money?" Macacho sat in a chair brought by others, lighting a Cuban cigar.

"Even though he killed the Butcher of Demons, Number Forty-Four is still holding the Bad Luck Number. Fighting twice in a row is already taxing, and he has to face Unscathed Chen Feiyu.

That man is the undisputed Fighting King of this level, better even than Bian Lice." Everyone nodded in immediate agreement. Before coming to [Bloody Frenzy], Chen Feiyu had spent time in similar establishments, and everyone who fought him left dead; no one had ever escaped the ring alive, not even seriously injured.

While his killing wasn't as savagely perverse as the Butcher of Demons', his efficiency far surpassed him. He was the only fighter on the second underground level whose opponents never left the ring alive.

Facing such a peak Five-Star expert, no one would have favored Number Four to win even in the first round one-on-one, let alone fighting immediately after having already been in a match while his mental state was undoubtedly... Chen Feiyu, seeing Qin Fen as his opponent, showed a rare look of solemnity.

He stood up and gently stretched, adjusting his body’s various functions. Unlike the Butcher of Demons, he prepared seriously for every fight.

Even against an opponent who had already fought once, he would not allow any lapse in concentration, giving the other party no opportunity whatsoever. As a former overlord of the Five-Star Tier in [Ultimate Battlefield], and now the top Five-Star fighter in [Bloody Frenzy], strength alone was insufficient; caution and meticulousness were indispensable.

Qin Fen returned to his seat, quietly draping an arm around Lin Ling, whispering intimately with her, showing no awareness of the impending life-or-death battle. Seeing him still inseparable from the woman in this situation lessened the shock of his cold-blooded killing for many spectators.

A man who only knew how to be sweet with women, a man who didn't know when to prioritize urgency—what great things could he accomplish? This was the sentiment among nearly all the audience.

Of course, a small minority harbored suspicion that Number Forty-Four was merely feigning ease to cover his true intentions. After some time, it was Qin Fen's turn to enter the ring again.

The previously noisy audience fell silent. People were curious: could this young man with the Bad Luck Number create another miracle and defeat the strongest fighter on the second underground level?

Unscathed Chen Feiyu, as usual, executed the move "Divine Ape Climbing the Tree," leaping onto the platform and looking down upon Qin Fen, who ascended using the Dragon Stance movement technique. In the previous days of sparring constantly with the veterans, Qin Fen had grown fond of the Dragon Style Fist.

The Dragon represents royalty. Its form is grand and open; its power is incomparably fierce.

Many veterans practiced Dragon Fist, though each variant differed. Some practiced Azure Dragon Fist, others Coiling Dragon Fist, as well as Black Dragon Fist, Fire Dragon Fist, Dragon Venerable Fist, and Gold Dragon Fist.

Although he couldn't formally seek guidance from the veterans, Qin Fen's martial intuition was superb. Through the impact and vibrations during exchanges, he could discern fragments of the secret techniques behind their moves.

After enough collisions, the secrets of their fists held no mystery for him. Through days of secret study, while Qin Fen hadn't managed to systematically integrate them into a Dragon Fist of his own creation, the foundation of his Dragon Fist was extremely authentic.

Others would easily assume his style was dedicated solely to Dragon Fist. Chen Feiyu's expression grew cautious upon seeing Qin Fen's footwork.

He sensed that Qin Fen's Dragon Form, while orthodox, was somewhat mixed. It wasn't that the Dragon Form was impure, but rather that different Dragon Forms seemed blended—a bit of a hodgepodge.

A bronze gong sounded. Chen Feiyu assumed a wide stance, watching Qin Fen warily, choosing not to attack first.

He felt he couldn't quite see through the man. He realized observing Number Forty-Four from the side and facing him directly were entirely different sensations.

Now, Chen Feiyu suddenly felt as if he were looking up at a towering mountain. He found this feeling absurd.

At twenty-seven, despite certain factors limiting his advancement, he had survived countless battles and believed himself unrivaled among the Five Stars. Yet, facing Qin Fen at this moment, he suddenly felt utterly incapable of victory.

Time ticked by. The audience shifted from holding their breath, intently observing so as not to miss the spectacle, to growing impatient.

Chen Feiyu, usually decisive and confident, had become a shrinking tortoise today. "Hey!

Are you going to fight or not?" "Chen Feiyu! Attack!

Kill this newcomer, Number Forty-Four!" "Number Forty-Four, weren't you so fierce? Go kill Chen Feiyu!" Cheers and shouts erupted from the stands.

Sweat began to bead on Chen Feiyu's forehead. A few more seconds passed, and he dropped his stance, letting out a long sigh toward the sky.

If he had attacked immediately upon entering the ring, he would have retained a shred of courage. But as the standoff lengthened, he realized he didn't even have the nerve to strike.

To force an attack now would only lead to the same fate as the Butcher of Demons. Chen Feiyu’s eyes were filled with unwillingness as he sighed helplessly, "You win..." Win?

Just like that? Many spectators were dumbfounded.

In the first fight, Number Forty-Four had at least made one move. In this second fight, Number Forty-Four won without even needing to attack?

Chen Feiyu stepped down dejectedly, collecting his belongings. He knew he couldn't stay here any longer.

Just like in [Ultimate Battlefield], staying after a loss only invited ridicule and would severely damage his state of mind, making him vulnerable to death in combat. He also knew he had to leave quickly.

While he was the king here, the forces of [Bloody Frenzy] would protect him. Now that he had lost...

those forces would no longer watch over him, and many latent dangers would surface. After packing his gear, he cast a look of envy back toward Qin Fen, who was collecting his earnings.

Many noticed his gaze, and nearly everyone assumed he envied the status Qin Fen had accumulated in just two fights—status that had taken him many days to build. But no one knew that Chen Feiyu envied Qin Fen's potential for future growth.