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Holy Fist!

Bai Xiao descended, lifting his head to not only see the bizarre and magnificent world but also the professional modifier he had downloaded before crossing over. "Drain all experience from my sub-occupations, 'Biological Mecha Master', 'Mystic Explorer', 'Special Hypnotist', transforming it into one million potential points, all enhancing my main occupation, 'Fighter'!" "I... have obtained the golden ultimate occupation, 'God of Martial Combat'!" The largest urban agglomeration in the world, a night of torrential rain. On the ground, countless Killing Ghosts and Fighters fought to the death, while hordes of metal Mechas and Biological Armors exploded and self-destructed. Blood and flame intertwined, plunging everything into primordial violence and chaos. Atop a high tower, Bai Xiao stood silently amidst the rainy darkness, like a stiff and terrifying statue. His crimson eyes looked down below, restrained yet bloody, cold yet hiding madness. He leaped down with his trench coat wildly dancing. The God of Martial Combat descended upon the final battleground! A cold voice echoed across the city skyline. "Next, I will kill everyone present! If you have the ability, try to stop me..." A modern city of extravagant luxury, an era of entertainment and consumption supreme. Beneath seventy years of peaceful façade, lied another mad and bloody Inner World. Fighters, masters of their martial traditions, and Killing Ghosts, controlled by combat modes, engaged in a frightful, relentless slaughter. Metal Mechas with terrifying energy and Biological Armors extracted from monstrous cells commenced a brutal struggle between old and new technologies. In this era infested with machinery and altered by external entities, to proclaim the power unique to humans might be an unimaginable romance...

Gray tombstone · Urbain
Pas assez d’évaluations
122 Chs

Actually, you three can go together.

"Damn!" "Fuck!"

From the students lined up behind, the sounds of swearing rose in waves.

But in this context, these expletives only conveyed their astonishment.

That's because a force of over 300 kilograms was too brutal, surpassing the limit of a professional fourth division and reaching the level of the Boxing King. It truly exceeded the standard.

At the side of the line, contestant number 42, who had just walked by with a smug look, suddenly turned his head, looked at the boxing force measuring device, and wore a face of shock, "How much?"

On his right side, a student in line kindly reminded him.

"322, brother."

"It's about more than twice yours."

"Damn!"

Number 42 looked as if he had been hit, and walked away without turning his head.

Before he left, he didn't forget to flip the bird to the "kind-hearted person."

Who asked you to remind me that someone else's punch was twice mine?

Not well-intentioned!