Chapter 950: I

In the first combat match, the Contractee Pipang appeared.

Pipang walked into the arena, holding a piece of dried meat; the match had already begun, but he didn’t stop eating.

On the contestant spectator seats, Su Xiao scanned the surroundings—Bubu Wang had vanished somewhere to cause trouble; his gaze fixed on the arena.

Su Xiao had long been curious about Pipang’s fighting style, suspecting he had mastered Armament Haki—if this guess was correct, Pipang’s combat power would be formidable.

Hum～

A circular transparent energy barrier rose, separating the audience from the sandy arena, to prevent stray battle waves from injuring spectators.

“There are no rules in this match. The only thing contestants must do is find any way to defeat their opponent. Then… let the combat begin!”

Hark announced the match with a drawn-out, hypnotic voice—this was the Devil race’s innate talent: the ability to bewitch others. In this era, Devils no longer commonly traded with backward planets to harvest souls; hosting large-scale gladiatorial arenas brought greater profits. Ultimately, Devils were merchants at heart—just dishonest ones.

At the match’s start, Pipang and the Mechanical race’s Aule charged toward each other.

“So direct? It’s thrilling!”

Hark’s sudden shout distracted some spectators focused on the match; noticing this, the event organizer signaled to mute Hark’s microphone. Hark excelled in every way—except this: he loved stealing the spotlight.

Ignoring Hark, now stuck on the commentary podium, ranting to himself, the two fighters on the sandy arena were already locked in combat.

Thud, thud…

Both fought in close-quarters brawling style—each punch landed with brutal impact.

Aule swung a punch that left afterimages in the air.

“Deflect.”

Pipang didn’t dodge the punch—or rather, his current state made dodging impossible.

The metallic fist, black with a metallic sheen, struck Pipang’s chest; the hard metal barely touched his body before sinking into the fat beneath his skin.

Pipang pushed his hands backward; his entire body’s fat rippled like water. Over 90% of the punch’s force was channeled through his fat, flowing along the fat on both sides of his waist, into the fat of his back, and finally dissipated from his body.

Crash~

Pipang bounced like a water balloon—his body trembled, yet he remained unharmed; instead, sand exploded behind him.

“Huh?”

Aule was puzzled—his previous punch had been delivered at full power; even a titanium-manganese steel ball should have shattered.

Aule swung his fists wildly, leaving trails of punch afterimages in the air. Pipang stood still, motionless, unresponsive, as immovable as a mountain.

On the contestant spectator seats, a dozen recently retired “Lalata Star” cuties watched the match, munching snacks and staring intently—hardly resembling performers who had just finished a show.

“I love soft fat guys—I really want to poke them.”

One cutie spoke, chewing on something like potato chips.

“Me too—if he wins, let’s go tease him.”

“Won’t he hit us?”

“No, first we’ll act cute and see his reaction, then we’ll ‘take action.’”

“Good idea.”

These dozen cuties sat just meters away from Su Xiao—and among them, something “strange” seemed mixed in; upon closer look, it was Bubu Wang!

Su Xiao glanced sideways at Bubu Wang: “Aren’t you off conning people? When did you switch to flirting with girls?”

Bubu Wang returned a helpless look—one “Lalata Star” cutie was hugging him, seemingly unbothered by offering him full access; Bubu Wang’s dog face was utterly embarrassed.

Su Xiao gave Bubu Wang the middle finger; Bubu Wang rubbed his head against the girl’s chest, his eyes saying: “High charm is great—you can openly grope people.”

The girl giggled, unfazed. Indeed, Bubu Wang’s +75 Charm attribute made him utterly irresistible to women.

As for Su Xiao, he could only sit aside, biting an apple; none of the cuties dared approach him—not only because his “Gao Da” 8-point Charm attribute was pitiful, but also because his blood aura alone was enough to repel 99% of them; the remaining 1% wanted to assassinate him.

Soon after, Bubu Wang extricated himself from the cuties and returned to his duties.

In the arena, the first battle had reached a fever pitch—more accurately, the Mechanical race had reached a fever pitch of self-indulgence; Pipang hadn’t moved at all, letting him attack endlessly.

“You’ve been hitting me long enough—it’s my turn now.”

Pipang suddenly raised his arm and grabbed Aule’s fist.

“You—”

Aule, who had hoped to become famous in one battle, paled as he felt the force on his fist.

“Impact.”

Pipang’s fat rippled; a force surged from within his fat—not his own strength, but the energy stored during the attacks he had absorbed.

The force traveled up Pipang’s arm, into Aule’s fist, and finally into his body.

“Hngh.”

Aule groaned; his metallic body became uneven, dented and warped.

Crash!

Large chunks of metal shattered and flew off; Aule looked as if he’d shed his skin—his surface metal cracked, and transparent fluid gushed out—this was the Mechanical race’s blood.

Severely wounded, Aule’s head tilted back, mouth gaping wide.

Hoo!

A blue flame erupted from Aule’s mouth; Pipang immediately released his grip and vanished from his spot.

Pipang reappeared behind Aule, his body curled—his previously round, plump frame had thinned slightly, likely from a skill burning off his fat.

While burning fat, Pipang moved at extreme speed; after burning fat, he became a nimble fat man.

Pipang swung his fist downward, accompanied by a gurgling wind; his sleeve puffed from air pressure, flapping loudly.

Aule reacted swiftly, crossing his arms to block—but before Pipang’s fist landed, his fists turned pitch-black: the hardened state of Armament Haki.

Boom!

Like two trains colliding, the shockwave surged outward, spreading sand in concentric rings, dust flying everywhere—visually spectacular. This revealed why the organizers chose sand as the arena surface.

Aule blocked Pipang’s punch, though his arms were now twisted.

Pipang’s attack wasn’t over—a shockwave penetrated Aule’s body; compared to the direct impact, this shockwave was deadlier.

Fortunately, Aule was a Mechanical race—if he were human, his fat, water, and other bodily fluids would have been violently disrupted, risking expulsion from his body.

Imagine the effect on a human body from sudden massive loss of water, fat, and blood—Pipang’s fat-shock technique was devastating; even if you blocked his punch, you risked dehydration, fat stripping, and massive blood loss.

The specially treated sand settled quickly. The thinner Pipang walked toward the contestant spectator seats without looking back. Aule stood frozen; behind him, a large splatter of transparent fluid stained the sand—his blood.

Thud. Aule collapsed and died—he had lost 90% of his blood from a single punch; even a Mechanical race couldn’t survive that.

“Hey, hey, hey! Finally, I can speak again! Damn organizers, shutting off the mic? Cheating!”

Hark’s voice returned. The match ended, but before the audience could cheer, laughter erupted everywhere.

“Don’t laugh—I’m a Devil!”

“Hahaha!”

Unscrupulous laughter spilled from the spectator seats.