Chapter 19: Demon Arena (17)
Most of the audience in the gladiator arena had been preparing to leave. But when they saw the two new fighters enter the stage, the steps that were about to walk away halted. Their instincts told them that something interesting was about to happen. One by one, they returned to their seats, calling out to their friends to come watch.
The fighter known as “Spider” had a reputation in the Demon Arena no less than that of any of the top combatants. It wasn’t just because he had offended multiple guilds back in the Lost Paradise — more importantly, he was one of the few “tacticians” among the arena’s demons. He might not rank in the top tier in direct combat, but anyone who crossed him never ended up well.
The old warnings about the “Spider” still echoed in many ears: Don’t get close. Don’t listen. Don’t be greedy. Once you got too close, you’d be caught in his web. Once you listened, you’d be ensnared by his honeyed words. And once you got greedy, you’d fall right into his trap — losing everything in the process.
An information broker like him spun webs out of secrets and used profit as bait. Those who got caught in his net never escaped.
So when others noticed Tang Mobai standing together with Yan Wuzhen, they all knew—another victim had likely been caught in the Spider’s web. Of course, they suspected Tang Mobai and Yan Wuzhen might be working together, but no one could say whether their partnership would end with Tang Mobai being devoured or emerging as the arena’s newest dark horse. In the end, everyone gave up trying to guess the Spider’s intentions. It was safer to just go to bed.
Now, it seemed the Spider was finally ready to draw in his web.
[Gladiator Mode: Gamble Match! Both sides wager: 110 Soul Coins!]
Someone whistled. “Damn, the Spider’s gonna make a killing this time!”
“So that’s it—I get it now! He’s using the newcomer’s ignorance to set up a gambling match! Why didn’t I think of that?!”
Another sneered. “You’re overthinking it. Do you know how much setup and investment that takes? Gives me chills. That poor rookie is just unlucky to get targeted by the Spider.”
“As expected of the master of schemes…”
Yan Wuzhen smirked leisurely. “Do you know what your biggest mistake was?” The duel had already begun, but neither of them rushed to fight to the death. “It was challenging me to a gamble match.”
A gamble match was different from a death match or a regular duel — the challenged party chose the wager. If the challenger didn’t have enough to match it, the fight couldn’t even begin.
Yan Wuzhen had plotted to control the match as a “slave” manipulating the game from behind the scenes, but how to secure a clean victory had troubled him. If Tang Mobai turned out to be the stubborn type who’d rather lose than let him win, his whole plan would crumble. He had contingencies for that — but he hadn’t expected Tang Mobai to take things even further… and challenge him to a gamble match first.
Perfect. Now he could swallow all the spoils for himself.
Tang Mobai sank into a fighting stance. “Oh? I don’t think so. Otherwise, why did you accept?”
“Hah? What are you talking about? What kind of prey talks—”
Before he could finish, Yan Wuzhen dashed forward so fast his voice lagged behind him. Tang Mobai barely raised his arm in time to block a heavy punch to the face, the force numbing his arm. “—too much,” came the end of the sentence, carried by the wind.
Before Tang Mobai could recover, Yan Wuzhen’s leg whipped up and smashed into his stomach like a lash. Tang Mobai almost vomited bile. His opponent didn’t let up — a flurry of punches followed.
The Spider might have been known for his cunning, but if his fighting skills weren’t solid, his victims would’ve beaten his brains out long ago. Growing up in that hellish environment had taught him one thing: when words fail, force makes people listen. And in the Infernal Arena, even those who weren’t born fighters had learned to fight to survive.
Yan Wuzhen’s experience clearly outweighed Tang Mobai’s — within moments, Tang Mobai was being overwhelmed. Normally, this kind of one-sided beatdown would draw mocking boos from the audience. But instead, the chat was filled with excitement:
[Hmm, this feels familiar. This round’s in the bag!]
[Haha, why do all these dark horses start weak on purpose? I know his routine by now!]
[Say no more — I’m increasing my bet!]
[Wait, guys, are you blind? That’s the Spider — the information broker! This is a setup! Tang Mobai’s the bait!]
[Even if that’s true, what if that’s exactly what the Spider wants you to think?]
[Huh? No way, this is a gamble match!]
[Yeah, what if he pretends to lose to Tang Mobai, and they split the winnings later?]
[You’re predicting the prediction of the prediction! (dog emoji)]
The chat exploded — “dark horse believers,” “Spider conspiracy theorists,” and “open scheme defenders” were all arguing endlessly. But the more they fought, the more hype the match generated, drawing even more viewers in.
That was the terror of Yan Wuzhen’s schemes: even when everyone knew he was weaving a trap, they still couldn’t avoid getting caught. He was never afraid of being seen through — he was only afraid people wouldn’t be greedy enough. Once greed entered the picture, it didn’t matter if they were smart or stupid — they’d all end up feeding his profits.
All that remained was for him to win.
Tang Mobai rolled aside, dodging a stomp, then swiftly sprang up and kicked at Yan Wuzhen’s lower body. Yan Wuzhen anticipated it and sidestepped — but Tang Mobai abruptly changed direction mid-kick, slamming his shoulder into Yan Wuzhen’s exposed chest. The force drove Yan Wuzhen backward several steps, his expression shifting darkly.
“What’s with that look? Like you’ve seen a ghost.” Tang Mobai patted dust off his shoulder. “Did you really think I only attacked low?”
Yan Wuzhen had gathered information beforehand.
Set: “Tang Mobai? Flashy but predictable. Uses unorthodox moves, but his attacks are simple. Guard properly and you’ll be fine.”
Actor #2: “Yeah, he’s trained, but mostly in how to take hits.”
Actor #3: “He’s not much of a threat. Doesn’t seem like he’s been training long.”
Technically, they hadn’t lied. They just conveniently left out the part where Tang Mobai’s adaptability skyrocketed mid-fight — and how they’d barely held back by the end.
You’re fine, Spider. Go ahead. Nothing to worry about! Right.
Yan Wuzhen’s expression darkened. He remembered Tang Mobai’s earlier match against Xiu Weiyi, but it had ended so quickly he hadn’t taken it seriously. Looks like he should’ve.
Tang Mobai smirked. “Judging by that face, you really didn’t know? Guess no one actually likes you, huh? You’ve got dirt on them all, right? Otherwise, who’d risk their life for you?”
Yan Wuzhen sneered. “They don’t trust me, and I don’t trust them. Minor setbacks like this are within my calculations. You don’t think this is enough to beat me, do you?”
“Oh? Isn’t it?” Tang Mobai stepped forward, pivoted, and slammed a kick into Yan Wuzhen’s chest. “Then why are you so nervous?”
Yan Wuzhen grabbed Tang Mobai’s ankle, trying to unbalance him — but Tang Mobai twisted and kicked again, forcing him to block awkwardly and eat another hit to the chest.
“Your harvest isn’t due for another three days,” Tang Mobai said coldly. “So why are you in such a rush to have Xiu Weiyi target me? What are you afraid of — that I’ll break free of your control?”
Bang! They exchanged a furious volley of blows — Yan Wuzhen’s elbow hammered into Tang Mobai’s ribs; Tang Mobai’s kick smashed into his shin. Both staggered back.
Yan Wuzhen chuckled. “Like I said — miss the right moment to handle a foolish prey, and it’s gone forever.”
“Did you know,” he continued, “before Xiu Weiyi challenged you, he told me about your last trial?”
Tang Mobai froze.
“He said you could’ve cleared it — but you didn’t. You trusted the wrong person.”
Yan Wuzhen massaged his leg, smiling gently. “He tricked you — made you think you were from the same place. Then, at the crucial moment, he robbed you of your item and threw you to the ghosts. You barely survived.”
“‘A hometown friend,’ wasn’t it?” he chuckled. “How naive — to feel warmth just because someone’s from the same place.”
“I wonder, when he pushed you toward that ghost, what went through your mind?”
Tang Mobai lunged at him in fury, but Yan Wuzhen tilted his head, dodging by a hair’s breadth. From this close, he could see the fire raging in Tang Mobai’s eyes — and he smiled. Finally… the condition is met.
After that, Tang Mobai seemed to fight in blind rage — his movements wild and erratic. The even match instantly turned lopsided, as if he’d lost control of himself.
[What the— even pretending to be weak has limits!]
[He’s gonna lose!!]
[Nooo, I bet everything on the dark horse! My moneyyy!!]
[Wasn’t he supposed to be unstoppable? Don’t tell me this really was the Spider’s trap?!]
[No way, please no, I bet my whole balance on him!! Don’t you dare lose!!]
Outside the stream, the expert team watching frowned deeply. They knew about Tang Mobai’s previous trial — he’d discussed it in detail, and they’d simulated the scenario many times. It shouldn’t have left a trauma strong enough to affect him now. He’d never shown any instability before, even when talking about the betrayal.
Unless… the problem wasn’t him — it was his opponent.
[Hmm… does anyone remember how Spider’s opponents sometimes act weird mid-fight too? Even the strong ones suddenly falter.]
[Yeah, I thought that was just his trash talk game being too good.]
[No way, right? Even if he’s fallen so low he’s practically trash, he can’t be that useless. And why would he even do this? Knowing how the “Desire” and “Original Sin” fate systems work, isn’t he afraid of provoking his opponent into instantly triggering a berserk evolution?]
[Huh? You guys don’t know why Yan Wuzhen ended up in the Revival Tournament?]
[Didn’t he just offend too many people?]
[Of course not. I heard… Yan Wuzhen stole a sealed artifact from the Mystic Forest Guild.]
Anger, Envy, Pride… Demons draw power from these emotions—their most primal and insatiable desires. You could say these negative emotions are their true source of strength: the angrier, the stronger; the more envious, the stronger; the more pride, the stronger. So does that mean the more one’s heart is filled with negativity, the more powerful a demon becomes?
No—Yan Wuzhen didn’t think so. Those who lose themselves to rage and greed aren’t strong—they’re puppets of desire. Only those who control their emotions can be called the true masters of desire.
“So mad already? Aw, those eyes look so scary, I’m terrified~.” Yan Wuzhen smiled, tilting his head to expose his face to Tang Mobai. “Didn’t you say you were going to punch me in the face? Go on then—I’m waiting.”
Tang Mobai pressed his lips together. He’d only been a little irritated before, but somehow, the instant his eyes landed on Yan Wuzhen’s right cheek, fury surged up uncontrollably. By the time he realized it, his fist was already swinging straight at Yan Wuzhen’s face.
The attack was too obvious and easily dodged. Before Tang Mobai could recover from the frustration of missing, Yan Wuzhen seized his fist and drove a brutal knee into his stomach.
“That’s it?” Yan Wuzhen taunted openly. “That’s all you’ve got? Maybe Set and the others didn’t mention you because you’re so weak you weren’t worth mentioning.”
Tang Mobai gagged, his rage flaring higher. His mind went blank—no tactics, no technique—just one thought: hit him.
“So fierce, yet you can’t land a hit.”
“Don’t tell me that’s all you can do?”
“Aw, should big brother go easy on you?”
It hurt. Even when Tang Mobai sensed something wrong and tried to stop, Yan Wuzhen never relented—his words and attacks kept stoking Tang Mobai’s fury, pushing him from anger to sorrow, from sorrow to Envy.
He’s so good at fighting. Am I really just useless trash? So embarrassing… such a waste of everything the country invested in me…
Tang Mobai’s body trembled. Pain wracked him everywhere—but worse was the loss of control over his own emotions.
Even the spectators could see it now: Tang Mobai had fallen completely into the spider’s web. It was only a matter of time before he lost.
“Looks like that rumor wasn’t just talk,” a burly spectator murmured. “That unidentified artifact really did fall into Yan Wuzhen’s hands.”
Beside him, a boy asked curiously, “Artifact? But I thought all items were banned here?”
“In theory, yes. But not always,” the man said, tapping his ear. “If an artifact’s fused with an organ, Lost Paradise can’t exactly rip it out, can it? So if it’s that kind of artifact, its effect wouldn’t be surprising.”
Items in the Demon Shop were classified as: Normal, Epic, Legendary, Mythic, and Special Sealed Objects.
Unlike ordinary gear, sealed objects weren’t necessarily the most powerful—but they were definitely the hardest to counter.
Just like the one Yan Wuzhen was using now.
Item: Satan’s Left Eye (Sealed State – 1 Seal Released)
Associated Fate: Pride
Effect 1: Amplify, diminish, or convert any negative emotion directed at the user.
Side Effect: After use, the wielder’s own negative emotions will randomly intensify for 3 hours.
Effect 2: ???
Effect 3: ???
Yan Wuzhen raised his head—his left eye gleamed faintly gold. “You didn’t think you’re the only one who knows how to exploit loopholes, did you?”
He wasn’t stupid. Ordinary taunting only provoked hatred—and one wrong move could push an opponent into a berserk “Desire Overdrive,” turning the tide instantly. Lost Paradise had many cautionary tales like that—winners getting too cocky, only to get reverse-swept when their enemies exploded in rage.
But Yan Wuzhen wouldn’t give Tang Mobai that chance. From his point of view, Tang Mobai’s body was covered in color patches—each marking a negative emotion. Yan Wuzhen could manipulate those connected to his own: amplify rage to cloud his mind, magnify sorrow to sap his strength.
Humans or demons—it didn’t matter. All living beings are ruled by emotion. And he—who controlled those emotions—was their master.
Bang! Tang Mobai was kicked down again. He tried to rise, but the pain tore through him. Inside, negative emotions bubbled up endlessly.
I’m so tired… maybe I should just stop here.
If I stand up, I’ll just get hit again.
Maybe I should just give up… we college students are good at lying flat anyway…
Even when he fought to suppress it, his body still moved a second slower—and in battle, one second was enough to decide everything.
A shadow fell over him. Yan Wuzhen grabbed Tang Mobai by the hair and slammed his head into the ground again and again. Tang Mobai’s vision swam. With the last of his strength, he spat a mouthful of blood into Yan Wuzhen’s face.
Yan Wuzhen’s vision turned red—then black. He loosened his grip in surprise, and Tang Mobai broke free.
“Disgusting.” Yan Wuzhen wiped his face, scowling. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not stopping at knocking you out—I’m going to kill you.”
“You say that like you were holding back,” Tang Mobai muttered, gazing up at the barrage of comments and the streaming timer above the arena. It should be about time…
Yan Wuzhen lunged again—then froze as a sharp pain twisted through his gut. His face contorted, “Wha—!? What’s happening!?”
In the control room, the experts watching the feed finally exhaled in relief. It was working. The professor who developed the formula wiped his sweat—he’d been terrified the dosage or timing wouldn’t take effect.
Yan Wuzhen’s face darkened as Tang Mobai staggered to his feet. “You… you poisoned me? That’s against the rules! No toxins allowed in duels!”
“Against the rules?” Tang Mobai wiped the blood from his lips, his smile bright crimson. “Doesn’t look like the referees think so, huh?”
Yan Wuzhen instinctively glanced toward the robed overseers—but none of them moved. Lost Paradise wasn’t calling foul.
“Maybe,” Tang Mobai said slyly, “you just ate something bad.”
“Impossible.” Yan Wuzhen knew better than anyone—the food here was bland, but clean. Unless… someone had tampered with it—Wait. He suddenly remembered: there was one time Tang Mobai had access to their food—after the first arena match, when Tang Mobai had “treated” them.
Lost Paradise hadn’t reacted because Tang Mobai hadn’t brought any drug into the duel—the dose had already been in his system. The rules hadn’t been broken.
But then again, Yan Wuzhen wasn’t careless. He’d eaten Tang Mobai’s food because the arena’s rules forbade outside harm—no killing or sabotage beyond duels. And Tang Mobai had known that.
“Who said it was poison?” Tang Mobai asked, feigning surprise. “Why would I ever poison you?”
“It’s actually a tonic—really good for the body. The only catch is that after a day or two, it might cause some, uh, cleansing reactions. You know, flushing toxins. Pretty intense though.”
He raised a bloodstained hand. “Good thing I was the challenger—means I got to set the timing.”
Ever since signing the duel contract, Tang Mobai and the experts had expected this fight. So of course—they’d struck first.
If Yan Wuzhen had backed down later, Tang Mobai would’ve warned him. It wasn’t real poison, after all. But if Yan Wuzhen insisted on showing his fangs… then too bad.
By the way, since no one could predict which plate Yan Wuzhen would pick, Tang Mobai had actually dosed all three. The reason he’d killed Xiu Weiyi before was, ironically, to keep this secret weapon hidden until the right opponent.
“Oh right,” Tang Mobai added, smiling, “did you go to the bathroom yesterday? No? Must be pretty backed up then, huh? Feeling a bit… urgent? I already went, by the way!”
Yan Wuzhen’s face went from red to pale. His voice trembled. “You—you—”
Tang Mobai scratched his head sheepishly. “I really didn’t want to, you know. But you forced my hand… ahem. You didn’t think you were the only one who could exploit loopholes, did you?”
He threw Yan Wuzhen’s earlier line right back at him.
When they signed the contract, the experts had already warned him Yan Wuzhen might use similar tricks—so Tang Mobai had prepared accordingly. Technically, it wasn’t even breaking the rules: the duel forbade bringing weapons or drugs, but said nothing about having already ingested them.
So really, he wasn’t being sneaky. Not that much, anyway.
“I’LL KILL YOU!!” Yan Wuzhen roared, completely losing composure. The pressure in his gut made him half-crazed. He knew his only chance was to finish Tang Mobai now—before he humiliated himself in front of the entire arena.
All his earlier pride vanished. He attacked with everything he had, forcing Tang Mobai to dodge frantically around the ring, doing anything to stall for time.
But Yan Wuzhen wasn’t going to let him. He pushed Tang Mobai’s emotions with all his might, trying to force him into facing him head-on.
Fists like rain hammered down on Tang Mobai’s body—he raised his arms to shield his face, but everything below was left open and battered. Every inch of him screamed in pain.
Yan Wuzhen didn’t hold back at all— No, to be exact, he felt more fired up than he’d ever been in any fight in his life.
Have you ever fought with your whole life on the line—for something that truly mattered to you? He had, now.
While Tang Mobai was being beaten one-sidedly in the arena, the expert team and instructors in the real world were glued to the monitors, fists unconsciously clenched.
The plan itself wasn’t complicated—they couldn’t afford anything too elaborate from outside the simulation anyway. Yan Wuzhen having a trump card wasn’t entirely unexpected. But at this stage, they couldn’t intervene anymore. Everything now depended on Tang Mobai holding out on his own.
Honestly, the fact that Tang Mobai had lasted this long already exceeded everyone’s expectations. Two weeks ago, he’d been just a college student—his hardest struggle in life was probably the college entrance exam. But here, in this man-eating gladiator arena, even an ivory-tower student had no choice but to grow up fast.
From here on, it was all up to him.
It hurts… it hurts so much!!
Tang Mobai tried to resist, but Yan Wuzhen had gone berserk. He was burning through stamina without hesitation, pounding blow after blow into Tang Mobai’s body— Even if it meant permanent damage, he unleashed the full power of Satan’s Eye, endlessly amplifying Tang Mobai’s fatigue and despair.
Several times, Tang Mobai felt himself on the edge of unconsciousness. His mind blurred and scattered; only sheer stubborn will kept him standing. Even he was shocked he hadn’t given up yet.
When pain reached a certain point, consciousness drifted—the body and soul seemed disconnected. Only reason was hanging on by a thread.
The audience roared. They couldn’t hear what the two were saying—only that Yan Wuzhen was on a rampage, chasing Tang Mobai down in a flurry of brutal, visceral strikes. The raw force and physicality of it was intoxicating.
What demons loved most… was the moment life itself was trampled underfoot.
[Ohhh yeahhh, that’s the kind of fight I’m talking about!]
[So intense! My adrenaline’s spiking just watching! Hell yes!]
[Go, Yan Wuzhen! Crush the dark horse!]
[Spider! Rip that fake to shreds!]
[HAHAHAHAHA! I won!! Triple payout! I’m rich, baby!]
The gamblers who bet on Yan Wuzhen cheered wildly, while those who bet wrong vented their frustration on Tang Mobai, screaming for Yan Wuzhen to finish him off. The bloodthirsty barrage of comments filled the screen.
So noisy.
So disgusting… this place.
At that moment, like a reel of flashing images, Tang Mobai remembered what Yan Wuzhen had once said—
“Desire is the thought you can’t resist in the moment you want something most.”
Tang Mobai had thought about it before, when he wasn’t fighting. He’d thought about his parents, about the people who helped him, about becoming strong, about repaying his country, about surviving, about eating good food—(the meals here were really awful…)
But now, standing at the edge of life and death, he had only one thought left:
—He wanted to destroy this man-eating arena and go home.
Original Sin: Wrath (Reflexes and critical hit rate increase proportionally to rage, up to 30%)
“I want to go back… to see them.”
“Huh?” Yan Wuzhen’s face twisted for a moment. Seriously? Now of all times, he’s still thinking about his stupid romance?
But that tiny flicker of distraction— Tang Mobai seized it.
Instinct took over. His fist swung just as Yan Wuzhen was drawing his own back, catching the split-second when the old force hadn’t fully retracted and the new force hadn’t built up yet. It was seamless, instinctive—time itself seemed to slow.
He could see every twitch of Yan Wuzhen’s expression, the flicker of surprise on that handsome face—The punch slammed square into his chest. A critical hit. Momentum carried through into a brutal follow-up—Tang Mobai’s forehead crashed into Yan Wuzhen’s nose. Double vital strikes.
Yan Wuzhen’s world went dark. His body went limp.
[Winner: Tang Mobai!]
For one stunned heartbeat, everyone in the arena froze. Well—everyone except one.
Yan Wuzhen had passed out. His body lost control of… certain muscles. Tang Mobai, standing close, caught the whiff immediately.
Even with his own vision swimming, he reacted fast—he tore off his jacket and covered Yan Wuzhen’s lower half before anyone in the stands or on the livestream realized what had happened. Then he hoisted Yan Wuzhen onto his shoulder and bolted straight toward the men’s restroom.
The comment feed lagged for a second, the audience dumbstruck as Tang Mobai vanished without a word.
[???]
[He… ran away? Why??]
[Huh? What’s he doing??]
[…Wait. Don’t tell me—“while it’s hot”?]
