Dual-wielding! 100x proficiency, I'll grind my way to godhood!

"The Grim Reaper of the East!"

The entire audience was instantly ignited, shouting in unison, their cheers echoing throughout the boxing ring:

"Death God! The Eastern Death God!"

Everyone stood up, waving their fists and shouting at the top of their lungs, wave after wave of "Death! Eastern Death!" that made people's eardrums buzz.

From this moment on, this name was etched into every corner of the Los Angeles underworld!

The spotlight was firmly fixed inside the iron cage.

Chen Mo stood amidst the mess, his black casual suit spotless, without a single wrinkle.

He held a cigarette between his fingers, his eyes and brows as cold as ice, as if everything that had just happened had nothing to do with him.

The VIP room on the second floor, however, was a scene of utter devastation.

The bald tycoon slumped on the sofa, his stomach convulsing, his face as white as a sheet, his eyes filled with panic, muttering incessantly, "Fuck... Fifty billion US dollars... We're going bankrupt, that damned oriental bastard..."

The wealthy men standing nearby all looked ashen-faced.

A young, wealthy second-generation heir, seething with anger, gritted his teeth and growled:

"Fuck! A Chinese guy dares to rob us on our turf? Who does he think he is!"

The wealthy old man next to him was so frightened he almost jumped out of his skin. He quickly covered the man's mouth, his voice trembling like a leaf:

"Shut the fuck up! If you want to die, don't drag us down with you! He could kill a boxing champion with one punch, and crush us like ants!"

Just when everyone was at their wildest, Chen Mo made a move.

He put the cigarette in his mouth, raised his right hand slightly, and beckoned towards the commentary booth with his finger.

Just this one action.

The host, who had been shouting hysterically just moments before, suddenly fell silent as if his throat had been snapped.

The next second, he grabbed the microphone, bent over, and scrambled to the edge of the iron cage, not daring to lift his head.

"Sir, what can I do for you?"

Give me the microphone.

The host held the microphone high above his head with both hands, his voice trembling: "Sir...your microphone."

Chen Mo casually took it without even glancing at him.

His gaze remained fixed solely on the VIP area on the second floor from beginning to end.

He took off his cigarette, flicked it with his fingertip, and the ash fell into the blood.

"Those people on the second floor."

"When will my five billion US dollars arrive?"

"boom!"

The venue, which had been deafeningly loud just moments before, fell deathly silent in an instant.

It was so quiet you could hear the air conditioner running, so quiet you could hear the blood dripping down the drain.

The next moment, everyone in the room gasped in unison, their voices mingling together!

"Fuck! Five billion?? That's US dollars??"

"Jesus Christ! Did I hear that right? Five billion??"

"With a principal of 50 million, a 1:100 payout ratio! He won 5 billion in one go?!"

Someone sprayed whiskey directly into the other person's face, and someone didn't even feel it when a cigar fell on their crotch and burned a hole in it.

They stared wide-eyed, as if they had seen a ghost, at the Chinese figure inside the iron cage.

Five billion dollars is enough to bankrupt half of Los Angeles' upper class.

Chen Mo, a cigarette dangling from his lips, leaned against the iron cage, his tone still calm, yet chillingly cold:

I don't want to hear excuses, I don't want to hear explanations.

"If I lose even a penny, I'll tear this lousy casino down today."

"If money isn't enough, we'll use your lives. If your lives aren't enough, your wives, children, and families will all be buried with you."

There was no roar, no ferocity.

But that nonchalant ruthlessness is more frightening than any threat.

The host stood to the side, his legs shaking so badly he could barely stand, and the microphone almost fell to the ground with a thud.

No one dared to move, no one dared to speak, and everyone even held their breath.

This is not a gambler.

This is the Grim Reaper who has climbed up from hell to claim lives!

In the VIP rooms on the second floor, the wealthy guests completely lost their composure.

His obese body slid "plop" off the sofa to the floor, his whole body went limp with fright, and a sudden urge to urinate rushed to his bladder, almost causing him to lose control of his bladder on the spot.

He wanted to run, but when he looked up at the doorway...

There was a well-dressed man leaning against the wall by the door, arms crossed, holding a pistol.

The man had a smile on his face and a gentle, gentlemanly look in his eyes, but he had blocked the only exit.

Whoever runs will die first.

"Fuck! Fuck! Share this now! Share it immediately!"

The wealthy man scrambled to the radio microphone, his voice trembling with fear, completely cowered.

"Sir! We'll transfer! We'll transfer 1.5 billion first! If that's not enough cash flow, we'll transfer the remaining 3.5 billion. I swear, I'll transfer every single penny to you within three days! I swear!"

Chen Mo stood by the cage, listening without even raising an eyebrow.

They're too lazy to even reply with a single word.

He casually shoved the microphone back into the host's arms and turned back to continue smoking.

Inside the private room, the accountant's hands were shaking so badly he couldn't enter the password and frantically tried to do it.

Ten seconds later.

"Ding! 1.5 billion US dollars have been deposited into your account."

The crisp notification sound was particularly jarring in the deathly silence.

The fat, wealthy man collapsed to the ground, as if all his bones had been removed, and could not get up again.

A group of wealthy people looked ashen-faced, completely resigned to their fate.

The rich second-generation spoke with a gloomy expression.

"You bunch of idiots! No matter how powerful that damned Chinese are, they still have guns. Can they stop bullets?"

The other wealthy individuals immediately came to their senses.

"Yes! But taking action now would damage our reputation. We should wait a couple of days!"

"That's a brilliant idea! We'll make him cough up the money, and we'll even take his fifty million dollars."

The wealthy have found a way to cope and have calmed down.

The news spread throughout the venue in an instant.

In the second-floor corridor, a group of female celebrities and wealthy women stared wide-eyed, their hearts pounding.

The blonde actress, clutching a fan and staring adoringly, whispered a scream to her companion:

"Oh my god! He's so fucking sexy! One sentence and those old geezers were scared out of their wits! Five billion dollars! He's a million times cooler than any Hollywood leading man!"

Another dark-haired female companion nodded while frantically touching up her makeup:

"I absolutely must get his contact information! That's a real man!"

"He must be really tough! I like tough men!"

The women exchanged glances, and they all understood.

Today, we must climb up to this Eastern Grim Reaper.

Not long after, Chen Mo walked out of the arena, with Ghost following closely behind, and walked into the first floor of the Obsidian Bar.

Sam didn't catch up; he kept regretting it and slapping his thigh!

The ghost swiftly pulled open the main bar chair, behaving with the utmost respect, like the most loyal knight.

"Boss, please."

He poured himself a glass of top-grade whiskey, presented it to Chen Mo with both hands, then poured himself a glass, tilted his head back, and downed it in one gulp. When he put down the glass, his eyes were filled with utter submission.

"Boss, I've lived this long and met all sorts of people, but none of them can compare to you. You're practically a god in my eyes!"

Even if I have to go to hell to follow you, I will not regret it.

From this day forward, my life belongs to you.

Chen Mo took a sip of wine and nodded slightly. He accepted this submission as a matter of course.

"Ghost, don't lose yourself because of me. Be the best version of yourself, and I like you that way."

The ghost seemed dazed for a moment, then resumed its smile.

"Okay, Boss."

The two had only taken a couple of sips.

A strong perfume scent wafted towards me.

Six sexy, glamorous American women surrounded them; they were the actresses and socialites who had been smitten on the second floor.

The blonde actress was the first to lean against Chen Mo, her body resting lightly on his arm, her smile both alluring and bold:

"Hi~ I've been watching you from upstairs for ages, you're absolutely stunning! Shall I buy you a drink?"

The woman in the dark green sundress next to him was even more direct. She went behind Chen Mo, put her hand on his shoulder, and whispered suggestively in his ear:

"I know an amazing place where it's just the two of us..."

Other women also crowded around, each offering their own blatant seduction.

The ghost wisely took two steps back, holding his wine glass and smiling without saying a word, not disturbing the conversation at all.

A scantily clad female celebrity sat directly on Chen Mo's lap.

"Mr. Death, you're amazing! You scared me! Look at my heart, it's beating so fast!"

Chen Mo carefully examined the six women. They were tall, curvaceous, and typical American beauties.

He was furious, and these six men arrived just in time; they were all taken down.

"I know traditional Chinese medicine. Come to my hotel and I'll take a look at you."

After saying that, he looked at the remaining five people.

"You should come too. You're not feeling well, so I need to give you some injections for treatment."

He broke through to the Inner Strength Realm, and his physique improved. Even if his master's wife came, he could easily handle her, let alone several foreign women!

P.S.: My writing skills are limited, and I received some negative reviews these past few days, which lowered my rating. However, it rose back up yesterday. Thank you all very much.

Please give a good review and urge me to update!