He spat out some blood, eyes like a venomous snake.

"Ha, tough as hell, but doesn’t work, does it? How many hits can this twig of a left arm take?"

John’s left arm had been crushed by the Big Ghost Power Armor, now replaced by a high-end prosthetic available on the market, capable of external pop-out weapons, though currently unequipped.

Obestan kept closing in, lifting a leg to kick hard, smashing into his left arm within probing distance.

After taking two hits, John realized he had no advantage in terms of hardness.

He seemed to be on the defensive, only looking for a chance to grapple. Unexpectedly, just as he threw a punch and knocked the opponent over, a leg shot up from below straight towards his chin.

Whoosh!

John twisted his body at an unimaginable angle.

Obestan was surprised, too, forced to change his attack, curling one leg to kick at his chest.

"F*cking squid, you little monkey, you’re too damn agile for my liking."

He seemed to be getting angry.

John could sense that this attack was entirely based on Igdrasir’s tactical prediction system.

Oulos had packed dozens of advanced muscle bundles of varying lengths into John’s body so he could utilize an alloy skeleton.

The chip could deliver flashy, ruthless attack techniques.

The muscle bundles allowed the limbs to perform more extreme maneuvers without injuring himself under super-fast reactions and rapid changes in moves.

John was a bit surprised he managed to dodge.

"Damn lucky you’re meeting me in the octagon; on the street, I’d drop you with a shot."

John taunted while skimming the edge.

He felt his body had adapted enough and it was time to find an opportunity to end this boxing match.

Obestan indeed became excited.

He was eager to try, rushing up to throw a flurry of fast punches at John’s face.

Left.

Right.

Uppercut.

John silently counted, never striking, only recalling the attack sequence from memory.

Obestan’s eyelids twitched, sharply altering his attack order.

John turned his body to grab the opponent’s arm, intending to leverage arm strength to disrupt his balance.

Obestan reacted quickly.

Grabbed by the arm, he immediately lifted himself, pressing against John’s knee with one foot and launching incessant side kicks.

John took the full brunt of the attacks hard.

He flipped Obestan and pressed him against the electric mesh, using the opponent’s insulating coating to scrape against the sharp, serrated grid until a layer of skin was peeled off his back.

Bang.

Obestan broke free of the restraint.

John also spat blood onto the floor.

He had guessed it right.

The artificial leather on Obestan’s back flapped open like a ragged cape hanging on him.

Peering through the gap:

There was a plugin port on his spine, hosting at least seven or eight Fighting Chips.

Obestan was the stellar creation of Bone Shards.

He possessed an agile body and high-strength bones, paired with flashy and violent fighting moves, to enhance the arena’s spectacle, making gamblers more willing to bet.

Eden had mentioned something to John when teaching him to fight.

Chip movements are stiff and rigid. If not fully grasped, under rapid response, the body easily follows the program, but just now, John’s face-dodging three quick attacks was because...

He kept memorizing.

Obestan had a habit of combo attacks, just too swift, which was a bit overpowered for a novice match.

The young fighters didn’t have John’s Igdrasir.

They had no chance to withstand the most treacherous attacks, nor the incoming alloy leg technique...

People who die too quickly can’t see the truth clearly.

Obestan no longer trashed-talked.

He felt a little creeped out by John’s stare, also realizing his attack routine had been deciphered. Silently, he rearranged his chip sequence and launched another quick attack.

John didn’t run.

His lower body strength couldn’t compare to his opponent.

Obestan spun his body and kicked with utmost grace, his two hard, long legs swinging in the air like heavy cannons, the residual shadows slamming vehemently towards the young man ahead.

John swung his fists, eyes resolute.

The storm-like attacks left marks on his body, the bruised temples and shoulders oozing blood under immense pressure.

He was waiting.

Obestan suddenly grew anxious.

He kept trying to change his moves, switching attack sequences, yet initially used his familiar techniques...

John vanished.

He misaligned his vision, suddenly ducking and bending forward, swiftly lunging at the opponent’s waist, barreling him to the ground.

Obestan felt his view flip.

His heart pounded fiercely, before he could react, his neck and upper limbs were tightly held.

John executed a ground choke.

Igdrasir unleashed terrifying brute force.

Obestan’s cheeks turned a purplish-red, the white lights gradually donned a crimson filter before his eyes, eventually becoming a halo, overwhelmed by an irresistible suffocation and dizziness.

He lost strength, limp on the platform.

John released his arm, pondering how to kill this bastard barehanded...

Obestan suddenly widened his eyes.

Bone Shards considered some out-of-control scenarios when designing this ring star, like being knocked down in the rookie qualifiers.

Obestan’s life didn’t matter.

But gang-controlled betting matches, substantial funds, and subsequent marketing plans were all at stake.

Hence, a backdoor was left.

Obestan’s chip was burned out in a short period, the embedded program in the nerves detected his consciousness loss, automatically releasing a large quantity of banned substances to forcibly wake him up...

His eye sockets sunk deep, the pupils turned dreadfully red.

Blood flowed from his nostrils and throat, yet he stood upright using his legs as pivots.

John instinctively dodged.

Obestan charged out of the ring, immediately disqualified, crashing into the metal grid embedded in his skin, arcs and blood flowing, yet he remained oblivious, turning around stiffly.

[Scan: (Abnormal-Prosthetic Overclock)]

When John read his information, it was all gibberish.

"F*ck, this Shark Coin turned into a cyber psycho."

Macao shouted on the side.

He kept slapping the security nearby, signaling them to shoot and stop, then ran at full speed towards the depth of the passage.

John’s implants were locked.

Macao needed to find the decoding program, or rummage for the gun he brought in the locker.

[Program Disable/Confirm.]

[Authorization Canceled.]

Such basic technology couldn’t possibly overcome Black Light.

Pandora Algorithm granted Black Light more intelligence, tacitly allowing its execution permission during inspection, and now the situation was urgent, letting Black Light scan spinal...

All the locks disappeared.

Last time John came to fight, Sianweistan wasn’t around, so no treatment was necessary.

Obestan turned into a beast.

He seemed oblivious to pain, clawing and snarling, his body occasionally twitching in bizarre spasms, but with explosive strength and speed, linking his moves with a plethora of fighting techniques.

Chaotic and disorderly yet incredibly destructive.

John became a black streak vanishing from the stage edge, scissoring Obestan again with his hands and feet upon flipping.

This bastard had completely lost consciousness.

His body had handed control to the implant, his spine hot enough to burst a shell, legs struggling at a frequency and angle defying physical structure.

John couldn’t control it, dismounting the opponent.

He held another weapon—an embossed gold belt. After a few wraps, it turned into a knuckle duster.

Bang!

John launched a straight punch.

He could clearly see the attack motions, easier to hit the target now that Obestan had lost his fighting logic.

Bang!

Obestan’s head burst like a flower.

Blood sprayed up his cheeks, the glowing artificial eye drooped at the bridge of his nose, dreadfully sinister and nauseating.

The metal marking in John’s hand was stained crimson, with varying degrees of indentation on the massive decorative sections.

He didn’t stop.

Directly knocking the beast down to the ground, then diving down, slamming the alloy skeleton’s elbow into the opponent’s knee joint.

Obestan struggled like a bug.

John pressed himself onto him.

He kept punching the body until the pool of blood on the stage slowly spread outward.

Until it splattered onto the naked girl.