Amidst the thunderous cheers of the arena, the commentator passionately exclaimed, "First to enter is the elegant and composed fighter from the tribal nation, 'Rage Strike'—Mito!"
Evidently, this man's fame wasn't widespread. To sparse applause, he strode towards the arena.
"Next, please welcome the one whose victories and defeats depend entirely on his whims, who remains untainted even in defeat—Immovable as a Mountain—Kevin!"
In an instant, the entire venue erupted in enthusiastic cheers. The title "Immovable as a Mountain" and Kevin's name were chanted in unison by the audience.
Kevin, following his introduction, slowly walked onto the arena, even smiling and waving to the crowd in the stands.
"Why does he have that title?" a new spectator, seeing Kevin fight for the first time, asked curiously.
An old fan nearby immediately chimed in, "That's because he stands perfectly still against attacks, like a mountain. No matter how powerful an opponent attacks him, they can't injure him."
"If he's that strong, why did it take him three months to reach this floor?"
Audiences who frequently watched arena fights knew that truly powerful individuals usually only took a few days to reach their rightful position.
"That's naturally because he's willing; wins and losses are all up to his mood. Of course, there are some more profound reasons, but only knowledgeable spectators can discern them." The old fan chuckled as he spoke.
At this moment, a seemingly loyal fan nearby spoke with disdain, "Don't listen to their nonsense. It's precisely because Kevin's wins and losses depend on his whims that his match odds constantly fluctuate, and many gamblers love that thrill." He was a true devoted fan of Kevin and genuinely felt that betting was a desecration of the fighter.
Some experienced gamblers who often won were so because they had keen insight, able to discern which of the two sides was stronger or had a greater advantage during a fight.
Someone like Kevin, who could inexplicably lose even when holding an advantage, gave them a great sense of excitement.
"The real reason he earned that title is that no one has ever been able to knock him down for a score, nor has anyone been able to KO him. Opponents often only win by scoring with effective attacks.
Moreover, when facing attacks, he neither dodges nor gets injured. It's often the case that even if he loses the match, he only has some dust on him, while the victorious opponent, despite taking only a few hits, is left bruised and battered."
This situation initially often led to Kevin being criticized, as it caused many gamblers to lose all the money in their pockets.
The exchanges among the spectators in the stands did not affect the start of the battle below in the slightest.
Kevin stood on the arena, looking relaxed and at ease, his gaze fixed on his opponent.
It was a middle-aged man with black hair, dressed in robes resembling ethnic minority styles, embroidered with patterns that were difficult to understand. He held a weapon in his hand, which at first glance seemed to be just an ordinary wooden stick.
It was clear that his opponent was just an ordinary martial artist, with his aura naturally dissipating like that of a normal person.
Kevin raised his hand, simply beckoning, indicating for his opponent to attack.
His opponent's expression was calm, and he charged towards Kevin without a word. His burst of speed was extremely fast.
"Indeed, matches above the 150th floor are different." Kevin felt a degree of satisfaction, casually raising his arm to easily block the swinging wooden stick. Immediately after, he lifted his right leg, smoothly blocking the enemy's subsequent whip kick.
Mito's attacks possessed both speed and power, his offensive like a furious storm, sweeping towards Kevin in waves.
He was very skillful; each attack seemed random but was interconnected and interwoven.
However, every single one of his attacks was steadily blocked by Kevin.
Suddenly, the wooden stick abruptly changed trajectory during an attack, forcibly shifting from a swing to a thrust, cleverly passing through a gap in Kevin's defense and forcefully striking his chest.
"Effective hit!"
With the commentator's announcement, the score became 0:1.
For a normal martial artist, being hit by such a blow would likely cause immediate difficulty breathing and loss of the ability to continue fighting.
And the opponent would then take the opportunity to deliver a knockout blow.
But Kevin remained unmoved. He reached out and touched the attacked area, looking at Mito, who quickly widened the combat distance after this blow failed to achieve its expected effect.
"Excellent technique. Normally, I would definitely have a good spar with you and then lose to you. But this time, I don't want to waste time losing." Kevin said with a smile, while waving his hand at his opponent.
These words and his arrogant demeanor clearly enraged Mito.
This was the first time he had encountered such an overconfident opponent.
"Hmm?" Kevin sensed something was off.
He noticed that his opponent's aura suddenly strengthened, his manifested aura seeming to surge as a whole. Yet, by all accounts, Mito should not have mastered aura in essence.
Mito gripped the wooden stick tightly, his speed instantly increasing by nearly twofold, and he fiercely charged towards Kevin again.
"Look, Mito is enraged!"
This was precisely why he was called "Rage Strike."
Kevin reached out to block the wooden stick and immediately felt a distinct pain, clearly indicating that his opponent's strength had increased significantly.
Kevin realized that to win this match, he could no longer passively take hits as he usually did.
Amidst the storm of attacks, Kevin's body moved. As if by reflex, he cleverly weaved through the gaps in the attacks, landing a precise punch to his opponent's stomach.
Although this punch did not utilize aura, Kevin's own strength was not to be underestimated.
"Bang!"
With a loud thud, Mito took this heavy blow and was sent flying backward. The impact contorted his face in pain, and his mouth gaped open, expelling liquid from his stomach. He crashed heavily to the ground, sliding all the way to the edge of the arena.
"Oh oh oh! Kevin rarely takes the initiative to attack! What a powerful blow! Fighter Mito is down, could this be a one-hit KO?"
Seeing this, the referee immediately ran to Mito's side and began counting, checking if he could still get up.
Kevin, meanwhile, stood quietly in place, looking at his fist, his brows slightly furrowed, seemingly deep in thought.
Just now, when he punched his opponent, he felt a craving, an extremely subtle craving, on the same level as the craving he felt when touching special opals.
He realized that his opponent possessed precious "materials."
This was truly an unexpected surprise, completely beyond his expectations.
Just then, Mito stirred, struggling to force himself up.
"Oh! Fighter Mito is up! Is he going to continue fighting?"
"Hang in there!"
"Hit him, don't you dare fall!"
"I bet everything on you winning, show some spirit!"
Cheers erupted from the stands, rising and falling.
However, the standing Mito clutched his stomach with one hand, his face etched with pain. Looking at Kevin, who hadn't moved from his spot, he slowly raised his hand.
"I surrender."
He knew in his heart that he was no match for Kevin. His attacks on his opponent were as powerless as a child's play-fight. And Kevin's attacks, he simply couldn't bear.
"Battle over! The winner is..."
The entire venue instantly erupted in enthusiastic cheers.
"Haha, I told you! I've studied this; Kevin definitely wouldn't want to lose and have to fight his way back up again. He really chose to win!"
"Why didn't you say so earlier? You scoundrel."
Two gambling friends, who had bet on different fighters, excitedly wrestled each other in the stands.
In the lounge, little Killua also excitedly raised his hands and cheered.
After cheering, he was full of questions: "Is his body as hard as steel?" He truly couldn't comprehend Kevin's performance.
In the arena, Kevin glanced at Mito, who was being carried away on a stretcher, then quickly left the arena.
As night approached.
Mito rubbed his still-aching stomach as he walked out of the infirmary.
He knew in his heart that his opponent had held back. Although Kevin's punch had incapacitated him, it fortunately hadn't caused too severe damage to his body.
"That young man is simply a monster; his body is as hard as metal," Mito couldn't help but mutter.
"Are you talking about me?" Kevin's voice suddenly came from the doorway.
This sudden sound startled Mito. But he quickly recovered and asked, "Why are you here? Is something wrong?"
He didn't think Kevin was here to humiliate him.
"Hmm, is now a good time to talk?"