In the blood-soaked VIP box, thirty-five-year-old Wang Hao pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes flickering with a gaze inscrutable to ordinary men.

He looked at the projected transmission before him, paused in contemplation, then picked up a toothpick from the table, exerted slight pressure with his fingers until it snapped, and tossed it into a nearby bin.

Without a single spoken command, just a gesture, a chilling murderous intent ignited in the eyes of the five camouflage-clad figures on the screen.

"General, we know what to do."

The projection warped, then vanished without a trace.

Wang Hao leaned back into the sofa, observing the distant fighting stage through the massive pane of glass.

"General…" A brute named Ming Kun, whose face bore a long, deep scar, slightly bowed and spoke, "May your subordinate ask a question?"

"Ming Kun, the matter you wish to ask about—is it concerning Chen Feiyu?" Wang Hao’s expression remained largely unchanged.

"Yes." The scarred Ming Kun nodded emphatically. "Your subordinate doesn't understand why a Five-Star martial artist warrants you expending so much effort to recruit him. Why not kidnap his sister?"

Wang Hao tapped the armrest of the sofa with a rhythmic precision. "A Five-Star martial artist is naturally not worth this much trouble. As for kidnapping? What loyalty can a coerced captive offer?"

"General. The files indicate he hasn't improved his strength in three years." Ming Kun, gathering his courage, spoke again. "This man's potential might be..."

"I have my own judgment on this matter."

Wang Hao waved his hand, cutting off Ming Kun’s implied caution. A smile played on his lips, one that others couldn't comprehend. He gently flipped through a worn, yellowed notebook he carried.

This was something he'd seized from a drug addict's home years ago when he was still a narcotics captain.

It contained no insights into combat training, nor any martial arts secrets. Instead, it held theoretical insights researched by a university professor specializing in martial arts.

The professor's focus was the aptitude of martial artists. The opening chapter had arrogantly declared: "The study of martial arts is a vast and profound discipline. Even someone as formidable as Song Wendong dare not claim to have grasped all its truths. At least in the research of martial artist aptitude, I possess a more authoritative voice than he! One who can practice does not necessarily know how to study!"

Wang Hao couldn't say if the statement was overly boastful, but every time he used the assessment method recorded within to gauge a person's training potential, he had never once been wrong.

Or rather, he had only been half-wrong once—and that was concerning Chen Feiyu.

The first time Wang Hao saw Chen Feiyu, he noticed his bone structure closely resembled that of a martial arts prodigy described in the notebook.

The professor had named this constitution: the Solar Bronze Bone.

According to the professor's notes, those possessing the Solar Bronze Bone theoretically had superlative talent for martial study. Even if their physical development was stunted by congenital malnutrition in childhood, they would encounter no bottlenecks until breaking through to the Comet level.

The professor offered many speculations regarding the Solar Bronze Bone.

Through the notebook, Wang Hao knew that martial artists with this aptitude, even those suffering from early malnutrition, possessed significant capacity for post-natal compensation. By following the prescribed methods for solidifying the foundation and nurturing vital energy, reaching the Star level or even higher was potentially achievable.

Through several observations, Wang Hao was certain Chen Feiyu truly possessed the Solar Bronze Bone constitution. Yet, for reasons unknown, this man, whose power should have been soaring relentlessly, had hit a bottleneck immediately upon entering the Meteor level.

Moreover, according to available data, Chen Feiyu had been stuck at this bottleneck for three years, showing not the slightest sign of breakthrough.

The potential development trajectory of a martial artist with the Solar Bronze Bone was astonishing.

Wang Hao also understood clearly that such a talent had to be won over genuinely. If he used base, insidious methods to secure temporary submission, it would be no different than planting a time bomb for himself.

Therefore, Wang Hao knew perfectly well that Chen Feiyu must be made to submit sincerely. Once his potential could be unlocked, it would be equivalent to securing a martial master at the Star level or above for the future.

Such crucial information, Wang Hao naturally wouldn't share with anyone.

In this region of the Golden Triangle, his own power was not yet so overwhelming that other factions wouldn't dare compete with him for talent.

If someone knew about and believed in the existence of a Solar Bronze Bone like Chen Feiyu, likely every powerful entity would make a move to acquire him.

In their haste, they might very well end up killing Chen Feiyu on the spot.

The principle of "If I can't have it, no one else should" was not unique to just one or two factions in the Golden Triangle.

Furthermore, the most colossal powers might even possess more than one Rebirth Pill.

After all, everyone knew that the Rebirth Pill did not guarantee a 100% breakthrough; it merely increased the probability of shattering the bottleneck.

Two Rebirth Pills clearly offered one more chance to break through than just a single one.

A polite series of knocks interrupted Wang Hao’s thoughts.

Markajo entered the VIP box, his face wreathed in smiles, his eyes darting with extreme caution, bowing and scraping ceaselessly.

"General, good day..."

"Oh, Manager Mark, is there something?" Wang Hao raised an eyelid. He certainly didn't share the same enthusiastic demeanor as the blood-crazy staff, nor did he call him 'General.'

"The matter is this..." Markajo said with some hesitation, "The person who took the heart of the Finger Demon Butcher yesterday has arrived..."

"Is that so?" Wang Hao raised his head, glancing around the arena. His thick eyebrows furrowed, revealing a hint of anger. "Manager Mark, are you trifling with me? Where is the person?"

"Well..." Markajo looked distressed. "His mind might be damaged; he went down to the Sub-Level One."

"Sub-Level One? Six-Star? Did he break through?"

The anger in Wang Hao’s brow melted into faint surprise. The intelligence provided by his subordinates indicated the man was very young; reaching Five-Star strength was already impressive. Reaching Six-Star? Such an achievement was rare among martial artists throughout history.

"He didn't break through..." Markajo pouted. "He's still Five-Star, but he chose to fight in the Six-Star bracket to earn more money."

"Is that so?" Wang Hao shifted off the sofa. "Very well, take me to the Six-Star VIP box."

"Ah?" Markajo doubted his own hearing. "His chance of winning..."

Seeing Wang Hao already approaching the door, Markajo dared not say more; he couldn't afford to offend this man whose power truly merited the title of General.

"General Little Wang, what a coincidence to run into you here."

Outside the VIP box, Wang Hao faced an old man with bronze skin. That single streak of white goatee and the black iron cane in his hand were the unmistakable hallmarks of General Ma Lianda of the Golden Triangle.

Wu Lianda, formerly the second-largest power in Laos Province’s Luang Namtha Province, now the largest, commanding over 3,700 fighters.

"General Wu." Wang Hao smiled, though a faint, almost imperceptible glacial killing intent flickered in his eyes. "I had some spare time, so I decided to look around. How have you been lately, Elder?"

"Good, quite good. Just that business isn't as brisk as it was before," Wu Lianda gently tapped the ground with his black iron cane, producing a 'woo-woo' sound. "A while back, rumors were flying that your brother's death was related to me. What are your thoughts on that matter?"

"Well..." Wang Hao maintained a perfectly placid smile. "I never believe so-called rumors and hearsay. I only trust the intelligence I gather myself. So, when I have time, I send people out to collect information regarding my brother's demise."

"Hmm, investigating is good." Wu Lianda grinned like a fox who'd stolen a chicken. "Speaking of which, I also had a decent relationship with your brother. His passing saddened me too. If your investigative team is lacking personnel, feel free to borrow some from me."

"Thank you." Wang Hao nodded slightly. "In that case, I have other matters to attend to, so I won't keep you."

"Go on with your business." Wu Lianda waved his hand. "I need to go down to Sub-Level One to see that young lad who showed his power down on Sub-Level Two yesterday."

Wang Hao’s steps paused momentarily as he turned to look at the slightly hunched Wu Lianda. Previously, this elder never scouted for talent at the Bloody Frenzy or the Final Battlefield venues.

"Heh heh..." Wu Lianda walked past Wang Hao. "When one gets old, the mind falls behind. I have no choice but to follow the methods of youngsters like you."

"Is that so? We youngsters still have much to learn from you," Wang Hao replied.

Wang Hao and Wu Lianda were now walking shoulder-to-shoulder, engaging in pleasantries, neither showing any inclination to yield.

In the Golden Triangle, yielding signified weakness.

Weakness invited attacks from surrounding factions.

Upon entering Sub-Level One, they each proceeded to their respective boxes.

By then, the audience numbers had reached about half capacity, and the numbers on the massive bracket drawing screen were continuously flickering and changing.

One minute later, the dancing numbers finally settled.

A new number, forty-four, a Five-Star martial artist, had appeared, and his assigned opponent immediately drew immense attention.

Number One Hundred Seventy-Two VS Number Forty-Four.

Almost every eye immediately fixed on Number One Hundred Seventy-Two.

This was a man of average build, his complexion as fair and smooth as jade, giving off a faint impression that his skin was subtly glowing.

Wang Hao casually tapped the computer provided in the VIP box, and the data for Number One Seventy-Two instantly appeared before him.

Zhang Erming, cultivates the Three Lights Technique, commonly uses the Three Lights Fist style, ultimate move: The Fist of Radiance.

Wang Hao nodded frequently as he reviewed Zhang Erming’s battle record and introduction. 'Not bad, a true master of practical combat. It's a pity his constitution suggests his strength has likely peaked, with little future development. As for Number Forty-Four...'

When Wang Hao saw Qin Fen near the ring, his eyes suddenly sharpened, and his two eyebrows slowly drew toward the center of his nose bridge.

"This..."

The confusion etched across Wang Hao’s brow grew deeper. Observing from a distance alone, he was completely unable to discern the nature of this man's latent potential.