My Beauty Collection: Starting from Banshee Town

Chapter 239 Underground Boxing Tournament
Next to the fighting arena, there was a black sofa chair, and several guards with live ammunition stood beside it.

Sitting on the sofa chair was a middle-aged Caucasian man, wearing a crumpled white suit, long messy hair, and holding a delicate cane in his hand.

After the winner left the field, he stood up holding his cane and walked to the middle of the fighting field.

He first looked to the second floor, where there were also crowds of people, the thin iron railings were crumbling, and everyone's faces were flushed, waving banknotes wildly in their hands.

The white suit thumped his cane heavily, and shouted loudly:

"Ladies and gentlemen, what follows is the grand finale of tonight."

A burly black man walked out from the side. He was wearing only a pair of boxer pants, and his body was covered with scars. Ordinary people would feel timid when they saw it.

"Tonight's ring guard is from..." The white suit waved his cane and pointed at the strong black man: "Only God knows where he came from."

There was a burst of laughter at the scene, and at the same time, some people chanted the title of ring guard.

"Heavyweight." The white suit spread his hands, tilted his head and said, "It seems that no one cares about this."

"Hahaha."

The laughter at the scene became more enthusiastic, and whistles sounded.

"All in all, he's our undefeated champion."

The white suit elongated his words and roared loudly:

"Shouling: The Slayer."

As soon as the voice fell, the atmosphere exploded in an instant. Most of the people cheered, with veins popping up in their necks, and loudly shouted the name of the massacre.

The black burly man spread out his hands in satisfaction and raised them high, enjoying this moment that belonged to him.

"Next."

The white suit waited until the noise calmed down a bit, then stroked his blond messy hair: "Who has the courage to challenge the slaughterer?"

Under the eyes of everyone's anticipation, the white suit roared loudly:
"He's a beast."

"He just made a stunning debut with us not long ago. Currently, he has won ten out of ten battles, and none of his opponents can survive against him."

"Here he is, the dreaded Indian."

"Cut. Ton..."

The iron door of the narrow room next to it was opened, and an Indian with long braids stooped out of the darkness. He was barefoot and only wearing a pair of denim trousers.

The massacre was already tall enough, but in front of this Indian, he was abruptly smaller.

The person who came was Chetton Littlestone, who was rescued by the Red Bone Gang during Ethan's escort last time, and he had several more scars on his body than before.

Chetton's temperament is also more fierce. As the host introduced, he looks like a beast now, thirsting for blood all the time.

When Chetton walked into the field, the cheers for him were not weaker than those for Slayer.

During this period of time, Chetton's bloody methods left a deep impression on the spectators and brought him many fans.

The Slayer looked at Chelton, who was a circle older than him, and scratched his neck with his thumb in disdain, making a provocative gesture.

Cheton didn't even roll his eyelids, and moved his body on his own.

"Okay, tonight's finale is Slayer and Chetton, and the next step is to decide how to play."

The white suit took out a large dice from his pocket. Instead of numbers, various patterns were drawn on it.

He threw the dice into the sky, and the dice fell to the ground, rolling quickly.

Everyone held their breath, the dice stopped flipping, and the topmost pattern was two machetes.

The cheers erupted like a volcano. Obviously, the audience prefers to see blood when compared to punching to the flesh.

"The game method has been decided, the machete duel, next is the betting time, and the game will start in two minutes."

The white suit gave a gentleman's salute lamely, and left the field with his cane swaying.

Because it was a cold-weapon duel, the spectators at the side of the competition also took a few steps back, leaving more space than before.

The competition venue is a concrete field surrounded by spectators, without any protective facilities. It is not uncommon for contestants to kill red eyes and kill spectators before.

Although the contestant was shot dead on the spot, no one wanted to make fun of his own life.

The betting time ended quickly, and Chelton also held the machete handed over by the race organizer.

The brass bell rang, and he walked towards the strong black man with unrecognizable steps.

Unlike the usual cold weapon competitions, Chelton didn't try to be careful at all, and directly mustered all his strength to strike at the slaughterer.

This unusual style of play caught the Slayer by surprise.

Facing one after another of the sword lights, he was tired of parrying.

Cheton's slash became more and more urgent, and the light of the knife seemed to be connected together.

"boom."

The massacre's machete was chopped off by Cheton and flew out of his hand, and immediately afterward, a white line slashed across.

The audience was dumbfounded, and saw a red line slanting across the body of the slaughterer.

Cheton gripped the handle of the knife tightly, swung his arm and slashed hard.

The slaughterer's head flew up with the light of the knife, blood mist sprayed several meters high, and the internal organs also fell from the cut belly.

Cheton opened his arms, palms loosened, and the machete dropped.

He closed his eyes and felt the warm blood mist pouring over his body, as if the soul of the other party merged with him, listening to the deafening cheers with enjoyment.

This is the applause for the victor, and he can't get enough of it.

Only in this way can he forget the humiliation of being defeated by that small town policeman.

The match lasted less than a minute, and it was declared over when one of the parties was beheaded, and the winner enjoyed a blood bath like a demon.

The cold weapon competition is so clean and neat. There are dozens or hundreds of rounds without a big fight.

Amid wild cheers from all the audience, Chelton got the money he had won and exited safely.

After the blood cooled down, it tended to be sticky. He was about to go back to the place specially prepared for the contestants to take a shower. At this time, he saw a few familiar faces in the crowd next to him.

Chetton walked over excitedly, and the crowd at the side saw his ghostly appearance and avoided him one after another.

Only a few Indians with yellow skin and black hair remained unmoved.

One of them grinned loudly, ignoring the blood on Cheton's body, and hugged him.

Cheton rubbed the hair of the person in his arms, and asked in a deep voice:

"Tommy, what brought you here?"

His voice is very recognizable, it sounds like muffled thunder.

The man who was hugged by Chetton was his younger brother, Tommy Littlestone.

The two brothers were orphans and grew up together. Only when they looked at Tommy, Cheton's eyes would show some warmth.

"Shet, Cheton, you are getting better and better."

When the people behind Tommy saw Cheton like this, they couldn't help feeling a little scared, and quickly complimented him.

Only Tommy was different, he pushed Cheton's hand away vigorously: "Don't do my hair like this, I've grown up."

Che Dun smiled without a trace, and let go of his thick palm:
"Tell me, what are you doing here?"

"Langsid is dead." Tommy Littlestone looked at his brother and said seriously.

"That Ronsid?"

Cheton's face became gloomy, and his whole body exuded an astonishing aura.

(End of this chapter)