Wandering America: My kill threshold is far ahead

Quillin readily accepted Kevin's quirky sense of humor.

No matter how big your status is, you're still hired by the club to cooperate and entertain the audience and satisfy the sponsors. That's what an employee should be like.

As the entire audience held their breath in suspense, the large screen began to scroll.

Thanks to the excellent matchmaking system, there are many more heroes added to the hero pool this time than in the last game. In addition to noobs in the Bronze rank, there are also several pro players in the Silver rank.

The sound engineer on site also played the original soundtrack from the movie "Kung Fu Panda," which was quite fitting for the occasion.

A variety of Chinese and Western musical instruments, including strings, brass instruments, erhu, guzheng, and yangqin, intertwine to create a cheerful background music.

About a minute later, the joy came to an abrupt end.

The screen to MaJack's right stopped scrolling and froze on an Asian player.

Judging from the footage, the other party has a neat buzz cut, explosive upper body muscles, and extremely fierce eyes. The nationality listed in the data is a Bagua Taiji flag.

"Oh!" When the contestant appeared, the audience exclaimed excitedly in unison. Some women even took off their shirts, stood on chairs, made a megaphone shape with their hands, and screamed at the top of their lungs. Whistles also rose and fell.

Commentator Kevin tried to speak several times, but was silenced by the fans' enthusiastic reactions, resulting in at least a half-minute gap in his commentary.

Once the atmosphere calmed down a bit, he finally had a chance to get into the process: "Oh oh, guess what, Quillin, if we had known this would happen, we should have sold tickets for $600 each."

"Is Michael Jackson going to have a limited-time comeback?" Confused, Quilin simply joked about the dead, since no one on the North American server would mind that.

"If we consider the Old Silver Club as the Super Bowl, then this player is very likely to be the future MJ."

As Kevin spoke, he pulled out a card: "Let me give you some background information. Cui Dong-hao, a fighter from South Korea, is a disciple of Kim Young-chul, a 9th-dan Taekwondo master and the head of Okryu-gwan. With his fierce and powerful leg techniques and kicks, he has eliminated popular fighters such as Steel Fighter from the United States, Hurricane Frog from Thailand, and Werewolf Ali from Pakistan. With a perfect record of ten wins, he has become this year's Best Newcomer."

*Thud!* Upon hearing the last part, Quilin was so startled that he slid off his chair. Although there was some exaggeration involved, it still made the whole audience burst into laughter.

"Are you alright, buddy?"

"Phew, I admit I was a little startled." Quillin stood up, patted his butt, and sat back down in his chair. "Is there anything else I don't know? Can you just tell me all at once?"

"Then you'd better be seated." Old Kevin followed his lead: "Director, could you please play a video for me? Friendly reminder: viewers who are easily frightened or have a history of heart disease should watch this with their spouse or someone else's spouse present. Thank you for your cooperation."

The scene shifts, and Ma Jie looks over curiously to see a spectacular fight highlight reel, edited down to just the KO moments.

On the big screen, the rookie king, who had won ten consecutive victories, displayed leg techniques as swift as the wind, continuously striking opponents from various countries in vital areas such as the head, ribs, and jaw.

However, after the opponent fell to the ground, the referee did not stop him, but allowed him to continue to stomp on and abuse the opponent, causing secondary harm to the loser.

Even more outrageous is that the video has been processed with special effects, and after each hit, there is a bloody close-up similar to Mortal Kombat.

The video ends with a series of medical reports issued by licensed physicians: rib fractures, skull fractures, shattered jaw, severe concussion...

"So, are the players he injured still recovering in the hospital?"

After watching the video, Quilin seemed a little off.

Underground fighting is indeed marketed for its bloodshed and brutality, but he really couldn't accept beating someone to death like this.

Even in UFC main events, fighters respect each other and, without compromising their chances of winning, strictly adhere to professional ethics and try to avoid causing excessive harm to their opponents.

You compete to win, for the prize money, not to kill someone to vent your anger. You don't even know each other, so why would you have such a deep hatred?

"As far as I know, that's the case for most of them." Kevin shrugged helplessly. "Of course, there are also two players with strong resilience who have already left the hospital. As for whether they can muster the courage to return to the arena and launch a revenge match against Choi Dong-ho, that remains to be seen."

"Well, that's the cruel side of the game. If you want to wear the crown, you have to bear the weight."

Despite feeling somewhat frustrated, Quilin insisted on fulfilling his contractual obligations: "I feel a little sorry for Abao right now. He's just a sapling that's just sprouting, but he has to face such a towering tree."

Meanwhile, on the preparation bench.

Max is having a heated argument with his agent, Sava.

"No, absolutely not!" She shook her head as if she were on drugs: "We can't fight Jack, someone will die. We have to forfeit the match, there's no room for discussion."

"Fine, fine, you were the one who said you wanted to fight, and now you're the one saying you're forfeiting the match."

"You've been in this industry for a while now, don't you know that once a schedule is set up, it's equivalent to a legal contract?"

"What legal contract?" Max glared at him fiercely. "Is everything that happened here protected by law?"

"Oh my god Max, do you know what you're saying?" Sava angrily waved his fist. "I'm the agent. I signed the contract with the club on behalf of the boxer. You've all seen the contract. Up to now, all the procedures have been in accordance with the rules. If we jump out and back out now, not only will we not get the prize money, but the organizers will also demand compensation because the audience has been deceived, you understand? People bought tickets to come here not to be made a fool of."

"I don't care about any of that, Jack can't go on stage."

No matter how reasonable Sava's words were, Max remained firm: "He's my man, and I have to protect his safety. Don't worry about the compensation; I'll find a way to handle that."

"You...you're acting impulsively and have no sense of contractual responsibility."

"You're being selfish, using Jack as a tool to make money."

The atmosphere was tense, with everyone arguing fiercely, their heads practically touching.

"Hey, hey, feed..." Jack Ma was caught in the middle, his head spinning. He stood up from the bench and forcibly separated the two: "Can I say a few words, great agent and coach?"

The two looked over at the same time, and the person smiled easily: "You two have been arguing for so long, all based on the premise that I will lose the competition. Is there any possibility that the one who ends up falling on the stage is that Korean bastard who eats pickled vegetables as his staple food?"

"What... a Korean?"

"That's not the point." Ma Jie cracked his knuckles. "The point is I'm not giving up on this match. I can easily earn $3000 just by playing a few games. Where can you find such a good job these days?"

"You! I think you're obsessed with money!"

Ma Jie's nonchalant attitude infuriated Max. She never expected that this guy would take her kindness for granted.

"Listen, Jack." Sava took the opportunity to pull him aside and whispered, "I'm going to plead with Choi Dong-ho's manager to let him off the hook on stage. When you get on stage, be more careful with your punches, and pretend to get kicked a few times and lie on the ground. Whether there's a prize or not doesn't matter; the important thing is that you don't get hurt."

"Also, please don't misunderstand me. I'm really trying to help you. If you withdraw from the game, you'll owe the club a huge debt that you'll have to play a dozen or even dozens of more games to make up for."

"The waters here are very deep; you can't handle it, brother."