It only took four Wallfacers to fight the Three-body people, but Black Sail had twelve of them, and no one could guess what they were up to next; even the Nine-bodied beings wouldn't dare to interfere.

Although Galen didn't know exactly what would happen the day after tomorrow, Saleret definitely had something big going on.

As for tomorrow's bloody fourth round, only sixteen people would be left after the slaughter.

Honestly, Galen thought Saleret might not win; these competitors were just too fierce.

The bloody fourth round was undoubtedly worth watching, with multiple matches in a day, facing a series of battles, testing stamina allocation, combat strategy, instinctive reflexes; it was a real test of comprehensive qualities. Making it through the fourth round would mean reaching the undisputed top sixteen, with no room for doubt.

"Contestant number 777 chooses to continue to participate in tomorrow's fourth-round competition! This is the fourth to the last match of the third round. So far, eighty-nine contestants have decided to enter the fourth round, which is ten more than in previous years, unimaginable what tomorrow's event will be like."

The female host's announcement echoed throughout the venue.

Since tomorrow and the day after are the highlights, they can't wait for the whole round to end before deciding to stay. Upon stepping down from the stage, they must decide, to warm up the main event, so bet dogs can increase their bets, and the government's financial revenue soars.

Also, sins must be graded. A case as big as Saleret's couldn't just be resolved by winning the first round; the social impact was extremely adverse, even concerning regional ecology. They had to qualify for the top sixteen, or else someone had to help save face, which was the unwritten rule.

Truly, if it were like when the Emperor held the first-ever event back then, deciding on impulse, and allowing anyone to participate, granting amnesty, that would be a massive whitewashing sanctuary. The first event was chaotic with all sorts of odd and eccentric characters. The talent was exceptionally high, featuring hardcore gangsters and martial artists vying for the world's number one spot. Every participant was in an infinite series of battles, the extent was ridiculously extreme, testing comprehensive abilities to the utmost.

The unwritten rules were not revealed but indeed operated under that system, which was why the Continent Martial Arts Competition became more and more formalized year by year.

But Liszt and those like him were a different story. Their social impact was so overwhelmingly negative that they wouldn't just face a ban from the competition; they would be imprisoned on sight, far worse than being disqualified.

Galen took a deep breath.

A man with white hair and golden eyes, named Kun Lan, dropped out after the third round. Such achievements were enough for Aran's royal court to recruit him as an officer.

Yet even such a person dared not participate in the fourth round because the chance of actually dying was significant.

The champions Galen had bet on, Kai Deng, Saleret, and Sack Head, all chose to participate in the fourth round, which was no longer a scenario of a small chance among a thousand people, but rather a high probability of encountering each other.

This round was indeed overflowing with heroes like fish crossing the river.

The hall-level adventurer who never used a second move in three rounds, Divine Sword Xiaolong, was extremely ostentatious, always leaving his opponent alive, polite, polite; he was the author of the bestseller "Basic Sword Skills Manual," a must-have for beginners looking to enter the adventurer's path. The Western Continent's magic beasts had suffered gravely under this, with old tactics optimized and iterations applied, resulting in devastating blows.

Then there was the Two Flower Red Rod of the Narrow Sea Convention Organization, Star Splitter Clark, who was there with an agenda, with a political purpose; his three rounds were mere performances, wielding his unparalleled fighting skills, like the ace combatant Beowulf sending his foes skyward. After a cracking spectacular display, he would spare his opponent's life. Perhaps it was the Giant Whale Guest showing goodwill to Aran or not wanting to be controlled too deeply by Aran, administering a bit of medicine through him.

There was a Yisu named Gren called Heavenly Slaughter from the Southern Continent, a hitman wanted for crimes and now begging for food in Aran. Contrary to the notion that hitmen are unseen and sophisticated, this one was more of a loud, chaotic brute, with a tendency towards psychopathy, liking to slice slowly. He tortured each opponent to death slowly.

Newspaper predictions were somewhat reliable, with two or three dozen championship seeds deemed trustworthy.

Amazing individuals from various regions and races such as werewolves, Yisu, beastmen, dark elves, and sub-dragons totaled nearly ninety, vying to be among the top sixteen tomorrow. The eighth was to be the bloodiest and most brutal; on the ninth, the competition would reach a climax, transforming into an art form, with a certain beauty in vying for the top of the world.

Saleret also came with a mission with political motives.

This was all a chess game, and Gren couldn't play. Moreover, Galen wouldn't let Gren use the gambling capital to order a murder; the little girl had tens of thousands of golden dragons, and that amount could enlist hall-level adventurers into diving straight into the sea.

As the third round concluded,

a total of ninety-one contestants were confirmed to participate in the fourth round.

Galen, the deputy leader, and Gren walked some distance to their booked luxury hotel to rest. During the Continent Martial Arts Competition, the surrounding traffic of the Imperial Arena was nearly paralyzed, even with Royal City Army management, making it impossible to get a cab.

In the next couple of days, it would become even more terrifying, with Aran's royal relatives, members of the Astania family, various senior officers, royal court ministers, and important foreign guests closing roads for passing convoys.

The hotel Gren booked was the best in the Imperial City, requiring a two-street walk, with less clogged areas providing the hotel's shuttle service.

Although it was for resting, Gren likely would be up all night predicting again, utterly addicted, swiftly maturing into an old brother.

Throughout the journey, Gren was exceptionally excited, incessantly chattering about tomorrow's match, whether to continue betting on the ever-victorious generals. She had already coined nicknames like Iron Head, Black Head, and Sister Head for the three of them.

Her naming ability left much to be desired, reflecting a little girl's style.

Galen remained silent throughout, contemplating how this underage kid wanted to kill Liszt. That was beyond bizarre; a random encounter led to Doringger's orphan.

And now she was becoming a little gambling addict under his influence.

Once someone experiences the taste of quick money, their economic perspective is irrevocably ruined, completely abandoning the universal truth of exchanging labor for rewards.

For example, after making a small fortune on futures, no matter how much they lose later, they will continue gambling because a year's or more work can't compare to a day's earning, and they won't work anymore, even in a state of unemployment; they'll only focus on plotting for a big score.

To such people, planning for a high-stakes, wild gamble, even just lying in a comatose state purely pondering, is far more efficient than a normal job.

Gren was like this; although well-educated, even as a super-rich young woman, she had always been taught not to be wasteful. Even without gambling, Doringger's old friend, the Aran national debt fund, was enough for her to squander a lifetime.

But her days with Galen had completely destroyed her previous education, that labor is worse than stealing, stealing worse than robbing, and robbing worse than gambling.

For many people making a comeback, it wasn't man versus nature, they had fucking gambled and won.

Of course, the difference in gambling preferences between small and larger players wasn't comparable; while the former might live luxuriously, the latter would wake wielding the power of life and death, and when drunk, still kill because it wasn't illegal, as their law was the law.

The basic desires, food and sex, are biological desires. Even social status achieved through wealth accumulation is a basic biological desire, akin to the wild instinct of group recognition in an ant colony, it is the most intuitive and most likely to lead to downfall.

On the other hand, power is an advanced spiritual need granted by societal interaction.

Politics is the art of enslavement, commerce is the art of exploitation, and the military is the art of slaughter.

The political-economic-military complex revolves around the art of enslaving, exploiting, and killing people.

Powerhouses extend and redistribute forms of power, always expanding their domains based on that art.

And clearly, Gren wasn't a small player; placed in the hands of the average Aran citizen, even several thousand gold coins would mean a small fortune.

She was at the level of high-stakes gamblers among the great figures.

Galen turned his head to look at Gren, thinking that she could really hold back and avoided questioning why she wanted to kill Liszt.

Then again, she did look very much like Doringger, the one from the East Sea.

Galen said nonchalantly, hoping to caution her from self-destruction, seeing how her rebellious personality could not be tamed even by Doringger's childhood friend from Aran.

He could only offer her warnings in other ways not to seek her own end.

In doing so, she became a complete work of art, the praiseworthy gambling virtuoso raised by him into a little gambler.

"""

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