Chapter 12: Demon Arena (10)
“Do it!”
A familiar voice came from the stands. Tang Mobai instinctively looked over and saw Yan Wuzhen’s serious face. The man mouthed the words clearly: “Don’t forget the deal.”
The deal.
If they were going to act, it had to look convincing.
Tang Mobai clenched his fists. When Seth staggered and tried to get up, Tang Mobai punched him in the face, then mounted him as he fell, whispering, “Don’t blame me.”
Seth looked at him calmly and murmured so softly only Tang Mobai could hear, “Hurry up.”
Tang Mobai nodded, twisted his body, locked his legs tightly around Seth’s waist, wrapped one arm behind Seth’s head, and hooked his forearm under Seth’s throat.
It was a textbook rear naked choke — cutting off airflow and blood circulation to the brain to induce unconsciousness.
For the first time, confusion flickered across Seth’s face. Even the audience began to boo.
“What are you doing?”
“As you can see — knocking you out.” Tang Mobai’s voice didn’t carry beyond their close proximity.
“This won’t work on me,” Seth replied quietly. “I’m a cyborg. I don’t rely much on oxygen — half my organs have been replaced with machines, and I don’t even have much blood. You’d have to cause at least 80% system damage to force me into a shutdown state.”
“Then there’s no other way? Don’t you have a power switch or something?” Tang Mobai muttered, feeling around Seth’s neck hopefully.
Meanwhile, the audience’s booing grew louder, and even text comments started appearing in the air above the arena. Since when did those show up? Did they really need to be that interactive?
Clearly, the livestream viewers understood what Tang Mobai was doing — but they didn’t want this. They wanted blood, savagery, to see dignity trampled like a stray dog, to revel in the pain and despair that exploded with every splatter of blood — a spectacle for them to vent their own repressed frustrations.
Seth didn’t answer, only said, “No need to waste your energy. Besides, this is part of the deal.”
“Does that include dying too?” Tang Mobai asked softly. “I’m a beginner, what if I lose control?”
“Then it’s just bad luck for me,” Seth replied calmly. “People die every minute of every day. It’s simply my turn now. And you don’t need to feel guilty about killing me. I’m just a machine — a tool made by humans.”
Tang Mobai was silent for a while, then said, “In that case, I won’t argue. Spread your legs a little — I’ve got a way that won’t kill you, but it’ll definitely knock you out.”
Seth froze for a second — then suddenly began to struggle. “W–Wait, hold on—”
“What are you struggling for? Didn’t you say you’re a robot?” Tang Mobai taunted. “Since when are robots afraid of this? Fear of losing reproductive function — that’s a weakness only humans have.”
Seth visibly froze.
Tang Mobai’s sharp words echoed in his mind, overlapping with a long-buried voice—
[Seth, you must protect humans — not just because they created you, but because you are human too.]
Tang Mobai felt the resistance beneath him weaken.
“The second vertebra below… push sideways,” Seth whispered.
Tang Mobai blinked in realization and quickly followed his instructions, fumbling by touch since he couldn’t see from this angle.
Beep— Identity recognized.
A faint, crackling electronic voice sounded. The body beneath him went limp.
[Gladiator match complete. Winner: Tang Mobai!]
At that announcement, Wang Yuanzhi finally released the armrest he’d been gripping so hard that sweat slicked his palm. The staff who had been ready to send emergency alerts exhaled in relief.
Wang Yuanzhi smiled faintly. “See? I told you the kid wouldn’t go down that easily.”
Not what your face said just now, the others thought silently, though none of them dared to say it aloud.
They had all prepared for the worst, but Tang Mobai’s performance exceeded expectations.
Weapons in hand, the killing instinct awakens — yet he managed to hold onto his sense of self. That kind of person was rare.
*
[You’re awake?]
[Surgery was a success! Congrats, you’re a woman now!]
Tang Mobai’s eyes snapped open — and those massive messages hovering in front of him nearly scared him upright. His hands flew down instinctively—
Phew. Still there.
“What are you doing?” 009 asked, walking over with a bottle of potion, face dark with exasperation. “You weren’t even injured there.”
If anything, someone else should be worrying about that.
“Uh…” Tang Mobai flinched at the sight of 009, remembering his earlier hostility, and instinctively tried to back away — but the sudden movement pulled at his wounds, making him hiss in pain.
“Alright, just stay still.” 009 stepped closer, pressed him down, grabbed a pair of scissors, and — snip! — before Tang Mobai could react, his shirt was split in two, revealing pale skin mottled with bruises and cuts.
Before he could struggle, the bed itself came to life — leather straps extended from all four corners, binding his wrists and ankles tight. 009 picked up the potion from the tray and poured it over his chest.
The icy liquid made Tang Mobai shudder violently, goosebumps rising across his skin. Before he could adjust, a cold hand pressed against his chest, tracing some sort of symbol.
Tang Mobai tensed, about to ask what was happening — then an intense itching sensation spread through his body. His skin began to glow faintly with a familiar luminescent pattern. Beneath the light, his broken ribs tingled so sharply it felt like ants crawling through his bones.
He realized, for the first time, that itching could be worse than pain.
When it was finally over, Tang Mobai curled up on the bed, trembling. 009 washed his hands calmly. “Done.”
Several minutes later, Tang Mobai finally managed to look down — and to his astonishment, all his injuries were gone.
Even the broken ribs had healed completely, leaving only a faint, incomplete sigil that faded as the potion evaporated.
Tang Mobai’s mind stirred. Was that…?
[Damn, alchemy in this world is always insane. Still the most versatile power system besides magic.]
[Yeah, super useful — shame it’s monopolized by the upper-class demons. Anything that hits the market gets snatched instantly. Having even one bottle is a literal lifesaver in a mission world.]
[Technically, this is the birthplace of alchemy, right? What a waste — they monopolized it and destroyed the roots.]
[Shh, stop talking — the Great Demons’ fans are everywhere. Just watch the stream.]
Alchemy…?
In the real world, the intelligence team, who had been quietly gathering data, perked up. One of them pulled out a file — filled with still images taken from the livestream recordings, showing mysterious symbols carved into walls and corners.
Though the markings were scattered, damaged, and incomplete, even with access to an entire national database, it had taken the experts a long time to find similar traces.
In the end, they found similar symbols within ancient fields such as alchemy, astrology, and other esoteric sciences.
At first glance, this didn’t seem to have anything to do with the current revival tournament. But after the expert team carefully analyzed the clues, combined with hints that appeared in last night’s live chat, they began to suspect that the reason Lost Paradise’s local forces had infiltrated the revival tournament… was very likely related to alchemy.
Meanwhile, Tang Mobai was still marveling at 009’s miraculous medical skills. Watching him treat the wounded Seth lying nearby, Tang Mobai’s expression turned a little strange. He hesitated for a moment, then couldn’t help but ask, “Sir, are you moonlighting as a doctor now…?”
Honestly, the image of 009 and “angel in white” just didn’t go together. Was there seriously no one else here? Actually… now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen anyone else around.
009 shot him a glance. “You’re all my property, after all.”
Ah, right—of course even tools need maintenance.
Tang Mobai finally understood why the gladiatorial matches could be held so frequently. With this level of medical technology, as long as someone didn’t die instantly in the arena, they could be brought back to life.
Alchemy, huh… Tang Mobai’s heart burned with curiosity. Who hadn’t gone through a chunibyo phase before? But this wasn’t some backward form of chemistry—based on what the chat had hinted at, this seemed to be a structured supernatural power system, distinct from modern science yet fully developed.
And a developed system meant it could be replicated—and its threshold wouldn’t be too high. Even if Tang Mobai didn’t fully grasp it yet, he knew that to a nation, something like this would be priceless.
Even if it couldn’t be applied back on Earth, judging from how those demons in the live chat drooled over alchemy, it could easily be used as a bargaining chip to trade for other rare treasures.
Of course, Tang Mobai was also self-aware—he could barely protect himself right now. Trying to obtain something that everyone wanted was pure fantasy. He sighed and let the thought go.
Then another question popped into his head, “Right, how do I receive my rewards after the match?”
“What? Worried I’ll pocket them?” 009 turned around with a mocking smirk. He reached out a large hand toward Tang Mobai’s forehead. Tang Mobai reflexively closed his eyes—and then felt a cool touch between his brows. When he opened them again, he saw that the “0” on his wristband had suddenly jumped to “30.”
He’d earned 30 soul coins in one match?! That was nearly a third of the amount required for qualification!
Tang Mobai gasped. He’d expected a good payout, but not this good. Yan Wuzhen really was a genius at running events. If he won two or three more matches, he’d have enough to pass the qualification exam and clear the revival tournament!
But before he could even celebrate for a few seconds—
“Oh, right,” 009 suddenly said, as if remembering something. “Almost forgot the treatment fee.”
Right before Tang Mobai’s eyes, his 30 coins dropped by 5—leaving 25.
Tang Mobai froze, his voice trembling. “Wait—wasn’t medical treatment supposed to be free?!”
“That’s only for newcomers with a soul balance of zero,” 009 replied, his tone full of amusement.
Tang Mobai stared at him blankly. True enough—he had just earned 30 a few seconds ago, and now 5 were gone already. On top of that, 70% of his match earnings were taken by his master, leaving the slaves to pay for their own medical care.
No wonder the feudal slave system was eventually replaced by capitalism. Even capitalists weren’t this cruel! At least companies compensated for workplace injuries!
Tang Mobai nearly wept on the spot, his expression one of pure, silent grievance—like a stray dog caught in the rain. 009 found it amusing; under the mask, the corner of his mouth twitched upward slightly.
“So tell me,” 009 said evenly, “why did you go easy on him? He didn’t hold back when he broke your ribs.”
“That’s different,” Tang Mobai replied. “Going all out in battle is only natural.”
“But torturing a defeated opponent who’s already lost the ability to fight back isn’t. That’s trampling on life and dignity. If I trample him today, someone will trample me tomorrow. Once you start lowering your bottom line, it just keeps sinking. I don’t like that—and there’s no reason to.”
009’s brief good mood vanished instantly. He stared into Tang Mobai’s eyes, as if searching for something—but saw only confusion and sincerity.
“No reason, huh…” he repeated softly, his tone laced with mockery before turning cold again.
“Your wounds are healed. What are you still doing here? This isn’t a shelter.”
With that, he unceremoniously kicked Tang Mobai out of the infirmary.
Tang Mobai: “???”
Weren’t they just getting along fine a minute ago? Why the sudden cold shoulder?!
He scratched his head—he had wanted to ask about Seth’s condition, but before he could open his mouth, he’d already been thrown out. Oh well… maybe next time.
Once Tang Mobai’s footsteps faded into silence, 009 finally calmed his emotions. He looked down at the alchemical compound he’d just finished mixing, and after a long pause, a cold smile curved beneath his mask.
“Those damned hypocrites… and they dare talk about dignity.”
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