Fight? Fight Your M!! I'm Going to Report This!!!

"Hiss, she's that strong? Who is that person? Investigate her immediately; I want to know everything about her," the Emperor commanded, his gaze fixed on Selene's departing figure as she left the arena.

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

Meanwhile, the audience was in an uproar following Selene's swift defeat of her opponent. After Selene left the stage, the confusion and anger among the spectators were so intense that the tournament had to be paused for several minutes.

The crowd only calmed down after the referee explained the extent of Han's injuries.

...

In the next match, two new contestants took the stage, both in their thirties, with massive, muscular builds. Their bodies were rippling with explosive power, evident from their appearance alone.

Despite their size and strength, they were anything but sluggish. The match was a brutal exchange of iron fists, with both fighters landing heavy blows on each other. The pace of their attacks increased rapidly.

Gradually, the scene started to feel familiar to Selene...

"ORA ORA ORA!!!"

"MUDAMUDAMUDA!!!"

The two fighters then grappled with each other, their faces flushed with effort as they tried to throw one another to the ground.

Compared to Selene's previous match, where she had effortlessly dispatched her opponent in a single move, this bout of close combat between two muscular men was far more entertaining for the audience.

The cheers and applause were unending.

...

The following day, the Royal Fist Temple Martial Arts Tournament continued as usual. The vast Imperial Arena had been divided into several sections, though the number of competition areas and participants had decreased compared to the previous day. Correspondingly, the number of spectators had reached a new high.

As time passed, most of the weaker contestants were eliminated. Those who now stood on the stage were the elite, trained across the Empire. Every match drew the audience's attention, offering a visual spectacle far beyond what the preliminary rounds could provide.

However, surprises were inevitable. In one match, on one of the stages...

"AAAAAHHHH!"

The roar was filled with anger and a hint of despair. As a disciple of the Royal Fist Temple, his pride wouldn't allow him to surrender. He charged forward with all his might, veins bulging on his face, bloodshot eyes glaring with determination.

But it was futile. The power contained in that slender figure was overwhelming, beyond anything he had ever encountered.

He didn't even have a chance to fight back.

With just one exchange, he was sent flying, struck off the stage by a single punch.

The loud boom from the stage drowned out the cheers of the crowd. Before the spectators could react, a large man in Royal Fist Temple training attire was already flying through the air.

His nearly 300-pound body rocketed like a cannonball, crashing through the barriers and slamming into the arena's outer wall.

Boom!

The once-sturdy marble wall cracked under the impact, sending fragments flying.

His body remained plastered against the wall for a few seconds before slowly sliding down like a painting, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

As he fell, his eyes were unfocused, and his mouth gaped open like a fish out of water, gasping for air.

After a moment, though he tried to stand, the excruciating pain wracking his body made it impossible to move.

Looking at Selene on the stage, slowly retracting her right hand, with her elegant and untainted posture, the Royal Fist Temple fighter could only smile bitterly.

He had lost without a doubt. He had been completely crushed, unable to withstand even a single blow!

How unlucky I am to have faced her! How can she be so strong?

The fighter couldn't help but feel bitter. He had hoped to make it to the top ten, but fate had dealt him a cruel hand, pitting him against this overwhelmingly powerful noblewoman! His dreams were dashed! How could he not be frustrated?

This must be some military conspiracy, right? Her strength is at least on par with a general! And that silver armor she's wearing—could it be an Imperial Arm?!

"Fight? Fight, my foot! I want to report this! Someone's cheating!!"

With one last glance at Selene in her silver armor, the fighter let out a silent scream of frustration before his eyes rolled back, and he lost consciousness.

As the spectators watched yet another one-sided match, they began to grow accustomed to such outcomes.

Sigh, as expected. This is the umpteenth time today, another one-punch victory, and look—she doesn't even have a speck of dust on her...

Normally, by the time the tournament reached the stage where fewer than a hundred contestants remained, it would take at least four or five days. But... who could have expected a monster to show up? While others' matches lasted at least ten minutes, sometimes even half an hour, she took only a second, either with a punch or a slap. The fights ended instantly. What a waste of ticket money!

"Ahahaha... Damn it, I lost again!!"

In the stands, a middle-aged spectator who had been laughing just a moment ago suddenly looked as if he had lost a loved one, his face turning as black as the bottom of a pot. Enraged, he tore his betting slip to pieces and threw it to the ground.

He shot a venomous glare at the Royal Fist Temple fighter, who was being treated outside the ring, and cursed, "Pah! Those Royal Fist Temple guys, bragging so loudly before the tournament, calling themselves once-in-a-decade or even century geniuses, and now they can't even take a punch from a girl! Pah! Geniuses."

Because betting was part of the tournament's entertainment, wealthy farmers, merchants, and nobles often placed large bets on their favorite contestants, hoping to make a fortune.

As for the commoners, well, let's just say the Imperial Arena charged an entry fee. Only those with at least some wealth could afford to participate.

Since Selene's overwhelming strength became evident in yesterday's matches, the betting odds involving her naturally appeared in underground gambling rings.

But so far, not a single person had managed to withstand even one of Selene's attacks!

From the preliminaries onward, it had been the same story every time. Each match ended the same way, leaving those who bet against her bleeding money. As a result, very few people had managed to make a profit from Selene's matches.

At this point, many people already saw Selene as the tournament's likely champion. Betting against her was no longer about whether she would win or lose, but rather how many moves her opponent could survive against her!

This led many to place their bets on Selene, but there were always those who, hoping for a long shot at fortune, placed their money on her opponents.

And... well, that was the end of it. They lost everything.

The man just now was one of those who didn't believe in Selene's dominance. Thinking that her odds were too low to make any real money, he bet on her opponents, assuming that someone, somewhere, would beat her.

The referee announced the result of the match just in time.

"Contestant Number 648 is the winner! Congratulations on advancing once again!"

As the final word was spoken, the audience erupted in applause and cheers. Despite the fact that Selene had cost many people their bets and hurt the profits of underground gambling rings, she was undeniably strong. Out of respect for her strength, the audience didn't hold back their praise.

And as for the losses suffered by the underground rings, that wasn't something to worry about. In this world, it was truly survival of the fittest. Who knew? They might even end up paying Selene for protection in the future.

With the crowd's applause still ringing in her ears, Selene calmly walked off the stage and disappeared from sight.

"There should be fewer than a hundred contestants left now... Whew, only a few more matches to go. Finally, it's almost over. So tiring." When Selene said she was tired, she was mostly referring to the mental exhaustion. After all, she had to hold back in every fight to avoid killing her opponents, which made the matches feel unsatisfying.

Her opponents weren't enjoying the matches, and neither was she. Holding back all the time was frustrating, and if she wasn't careful, she might accidentally kill someone.

Selene walked through the long entrance tunnel, and under the respectful guidance of the staff, returned to her private waiting room. Inside, Sebas, dressed in his black butler's uniform, had been waiting for some time.

As Selene entered, the old butler's stern expression softened immediately.

"Miss... here is your lunch." With a flourish, Sebas produced a large box of food and set it on the table in the waiting room.

Judging by the elegant presentation and the unfamiliar types of meat, Selene knew this must be a meal Sebas had prepared using the dangerous creatures he had hunted.

"Thank you, Sebas..."