Chapter Eight: Is This Really the End?

I burst out of the arena, an indescribable surge of excitement flooding my heart. Jogging all the way to the collection point, I tremblingly accepted the heavy prize money for qualifying—one gold coin. Sunlight filtered through my fingers, making the coin gleam with an enticing glow. Pocketing the coin, I strode confidently out of the coliseum.

No sooner had I stepped outside than I saw Haijia standing there, her eyes red as if she had been crying. Upon seeing me, she forced a faint smile, but the worry and pain in her eyes were impossible to conceal. My own eyes grew moist involuntarily as I hurried over to her.

Raising the gold coin in my hand, a tired yet genuine smile tugged at my lips. “Haijia, I remember you said you’ve never seen what a gold coin looks like. This coin is for you.”

She paused in surprise, then shook her head repeatedly, her eyes reddening further. “No, this won’t do. You earned it through your hard work.”

Feigning nonchalance, I shrugged and pressed the coin into her hand. “Oh, what’s wrong with that? Didn’t I say I wanted to give you a better life? Consider this a little surprise from me.”

Her fingers trembled slightly as she clutched the coin, tears finally slipping down her cheeks. Choking back her sobs, she said, “You’re always like this, always thinking of me…”

I gently patted her shoulder and smiled. “You fool, because you are the most important person to me.”

The next day, as I walked through the bustling streets, a chorus of conversations surrounded me. Everyone was talking about the formidable Aksu who had won that day, praising his bravery and skill. I simply smiled faintly, unaffected by notions of championship, my mind occupied with plans for the days ahead.

Life had indeed improved. The blacksmith’s shop had been renovated—spacious and bright. Food and clothing were no longer concerns; life was flavorful. In my spare time, I helped out at the smithy, striking iron while the crackling fire soothed my soul into a rare tranquility.

Whenever there was a gladiator match, I would participate. Each time, I advanced steadily to the finals, but at the last moment, I chose to forfeit. Holding the qualifying gold coin, I would run home laughing, my heart brimming with contentment and happiness.

“Haijia, look, I brought another gold coin back!” I shouted as I pushed open the door, holding the coin aloft.

She greeted me with a tearful yet joyful smile. “You’re always amazing, my hero.”

Gradually, I noticed many gladiators imitated my approach. Walking through the bustling streets, I overheard whispered conversations among participants.

“Why didn’t I think of this?” one murmured regretfully. “If I’d known I could just qualify, then quit and take the money, I could have saved my life. I risked everything but only got one gold coin. That guy Tier is so sly!”

Listening to these discussions stirred mixed feelings within me. Slowly, public opinion shifted, and people began to scorn this new trend.

“Hmph, his behavior tarnishes the glory of gladiators. The noble image of facing challenges with supreme courage has been ruined by him,” another complained angrily.

One day, a new notice appeared on the bulletin board about upcoming gladiator matches. As usual, I confidently went to register. Among the crowd, I recognized several familiar faces; we nodded quietly in greeting.

The competition proceeded smoothly. I advanced easily to the finals. Just as I prepared to repeat my usual tactic—quitting before the final round and taking the prize money—the overseer nearby suddenly spoke coldly.

“From today onward, any competitor who qualifies but forfeits the final round will be deemed to have withdrawn and will not receive the qualifying reward.”

His voice was icy and resolute, leaving no room for negotiation.

“Ah…?” I was taken aback, eyes wide. “Why not just call me out by name?”

“The announcement wasn’t posted?” I tried to argue.

The overseer glared fiercely. “You’re the rotten apple spoiling the whole bunch. If this keeps up, the entire gladiator event will collapse. This is Sun City—you don’t get to break the rules here!”

I closed my mouth helplessly, silently regretting my predicament. This time, I was truly trapped.

Back in the waiting area, everyone busied themselves with last-minute preparations for the upcoming match. My gaze drifted and fixed on the opponent I was about to face—Hassan.

His dark skin gleamed faintly in the sunlight. His build was balanced—not too thin or bulky—every muscle seemingly brimming with explosive power. Long, strong arms, slender, agile legs; his steps were light and poised, like a leopard ready to pounce. I remembered seeing him in a previous contest—he had made it to the quarterfinals but fell short. Still, his speed had left a deep impression on me, astonishingly swift, like a whirlwind across the arena.

At that moment, he lowered his head, concentrating on adjusting his gear. His face was expressionless, yet his eyes sparkled with sharp determination that could not be underestimated. I silently reminded myself to be wary of his lightning-fast strikes once the match began—no openings could be given. My expression grew serious, brows furrowed, eyes sharp with vigilance.

Stepping into the arena, after a brief exchange of signals, the match commenced instantly. Hassan planted his right foot firmly and launched at me like a leopard, delivering a fierce flying kick aimed squarely at my face. I was stunned—his speed surpassed all my expectations. Unable to dodge, I hastily raised my right hand to protect my head.

Undeterred, he landed and swiftly pivoted, delivering a brutal kick to my waist. I had no time to block and took the blow squarely, gasping in pain.

Gritting my teeth, I rose. Hassan’s assault came fast and furious like a meteor shower. I was forced to block or absorb the strikes defensively. Spotting an opening, I launched a counterpunch, only for him to sidestep effortlessly. I followed with a rear elbow, but he leaned back nimbly to evade once again. Then he quickly distanced himself beyond my reach, leaving me momentarily helpless.

Suddenly, he spun and delivered a back kick. I hurriedly raised my hands to guard my chest. He then leapt into a whirlwind kick, so swift that my vision darkened before I collapsed to the ground.

*Cough... cough...*

Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. Struggling to stand, I caught his mocking grin—full of scorn and contempt.

Regaining composure, I thought to myself: his long limbs kept him just out of my reach. I couldn’t land a hit, but he could strike me with ease. Combined with his blistering speed, I could block the first attack but had no chance to anticipate the next. At this rate, defeat was inevitable.

Then he suddenly spoke: “It’s you outliers who’ve destroyed decades of tradition, making us gladiators lose face. Today, I’ll execute you here and now so you can no longer hatch your disgusting schemes.”

Ignoring his tirade, I focused on how to best defeat him. An idea flashed through my mind: since I couldn’t hit him, I’d wait for him to make a mistake. A cold smile curled at my lips.

“Is that all you’ve got?” I retorted.

With that, I charged forward, throwing a Superman punch, exposing my chest fully. He ducked easily and countered with a side kick to my chest. A cold smile played on his lips, confident of victory.

*Thud.* The kick struck my chest hard again. As he gloated, I suddenly said, “You’ve fallen into my trap!”

His eyes widened in disbelief. Seizing the moment, I grabbed his foot and tripped him. Swiftly, I locked his right leg with my legs, my heel pressing against his torso. Clamping his foot with my armpit, I secured his ankle with a locked grip of my hands.

I straightened my chest, twisted my elbow, and exerted all my strength. A sharp crack echoed—the ligaments in Hassan’s ankle tore mercilessly. He collapsed, screaming in pain, clutching his right foot in agony. I reckoned this ankle lock would keep him immobile for months.

At that moment, the overseer’s announcement rang out: “Tier is the winner!”

The crowd erupted with murmurs—some astonished by my skill, others amazed that I, once deemed a money-grubbing deserter, actually possessed some real talent.