Nancy nodded calmly.
"The difference," she said, "is that dark gladiators are neither prisoners nor slaves. They are the strongest among the otherworldly. Participation is entirely voluntary—no one forces anyone into the arena."
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle.
"And unlike ancient human gladiatorial games, Dark Gladiatorial Combat is far more brutal. Human boxing, wrestling—those are children's games by comparison."
Her lips curved into a faint smile.
"Of course, the rewards match the risk. Survivors who emerge victorious receive everything most beings desire—money, beautiful women, rare treasures, and fame. All of it, pouring in like a flood. My role is to identify those with potential, partner with them, and guide them into the dark arena. If they win, I take a percentage of the prize."
She looked directly at Lin lan.
"I've seen your combat footage. You have the qualities of a rising star. Are you interested in working with me?"
"Not at all."
Lin lan yawned, stood up, and stretched lazily.
"I've never had any interest in being someone else's entertainment," he said. "Looks like this partnership won't be happening. If you're desperate for fighters, I suggest you visit a zoo."
The two burly men behind him stiffened, their faces paling. Each took a step forward, waiting only for Nancy's signal.
Lin lan glanced back at them and grinned, baring his teeth.
"You're not my opponents," he said lightly. "Best stay where you are. Otherwise…"
A chill rippled through the room.
"…your end won't be pleasant."
The men froze. An inexplicable fear crawled up their spines, locking them in place.
Just as the atmosphere grew suffocating, Nancy let out a soft laugh.
"I haven't finished yet," she said mildly. "Why leave in such a hurry? What I'm about to say might interest you."
Lin lan paused, then sat back down.
"Oh?" he said. "Go on."
"I hear you've been asking around about the Golden Blood Pool," Nancy said. "If I'm not mistaken, you plan to bathe in it."
"Well informed," Lin lan replied, studying her expression. "Continue."
"The Golden Blood Pool is sacred to the Blood Clan," Nancy said smoothly. "Its power is extraordinary. A single immersion can dramatically enhance one's abilities. Under the right circumstances…"
She met his gaze.
"It might even restore your physical body—allowing you to become human again."
Lin lan's attention sharpened.
"But because it is sacred," Nancy continued, "entering it is impossible for ordinary beings. A fantasy. However—"
She smiled.
"An opportunity now stands before you. Whether you take it is your choice."
"You mean the Dark Gladiator Games."
"Exactly."
Nancy raised her glass and took a sip.
"Dark gladiatorial combat has existed for centuries. Even ancient Rome borrowed from its traditions. These games are not merely bloodsport—they are the foundation of a massive gambling industry. Annual capital flows reach into the hundreds of billions. And wagers aren't limited to money. Rare artifacts, ancient relics, forbidden treasures—everything is on the table."
She leaned back, crossing her legs.
"To keep the arena thrilling and attract powerful combatants, the Dark Gladiatorial Association offers extraordinary rewards. Victors receive enormous cash prizes and artifact-grade treasures. For the truly strong, it's irresistible."
Her expression shifted subtly.
"However, the sport has declined in recent years."
"Why?" Lin lan asked.
"Because of one man," Nancy said. "The Lion King—Talik."
She spoke the name with clear respect.
"He fought in five hundred consecutive matches without a single defeat. When he retired, no one could replace him. The arena still produces strong fighters, but none with his dominance, willpower, or legend."
She continued calmly, "Every great sport needs stars. Muhammad Ali. Michael Jordan. Tiger Woods. Their presence elevated their fields to unprecedented heights."
Nancy's eyes gleamed.
"To revive the Dark Arena, the association decided to create a new legend. This year, they will crown a Dark Gladiator King."
Lin lan remained silent.
"The champion will receive unimaginable wealth, artifact-grade treasures," she said slowly, "and—most importantly—the right to bathe in the Golden Blood Pool."
She leaned forward slightly.
"So tell me, Lin lan. Are you willing to seize this opportunity?"
"Willing?" Lin lan replied instantly. "Absolutely."
Nancy smiled.
"Good. Then let's discuss how we split the spoils."
Blood was blood—but business was business.
After a fierce negotiation, the agreement was finalized: all treasure rewards would belong to Lin lan, while all prize money would go to Nancy.
"You're ruthless," Lin lan said, glaring at her, dark flames flickering faintly in his eyes. "You've squeezed me dry."
"You're no saint yourself," Nancy replied coolly. "I barely managed to extract anything."
Barely? Lin lan thought irritably. If you had your way, you'd have stripped me down to my bones.
After the deal was sealed, Nancy instructed Lin lan to rest in the private room while she arranged his entry into the Dark Arena.
By noon the next day, she returned with a thick folder.
"Everything is settled," she said. "Your match is tonight—midnight. This is your opponent's profile."
"Efficient," Lin lan replied, accepting the file.
He flipped it open.
His opponent was Russian—a man named Slov, from the North Caucasus. The photograph showed him in military uniform: heavy brows, cold eyes, and deep scars carved across his face.
A Polar Bear Clan warrior.
In beast form, he transformed into a three-meter-tall polar bear—pure violence incarnate.
The file detailed his past.
During the Chechen insurgency, Slov had been surrounded by Russia's elite Alpha special forces. The battle that followed was catastrophic. He killed over thirty Alpha operatives and destroyed two tanks.
Severely wounded, he still escaped.
The Alpha unit, composed of elite soldiers selected from thousands, suffered devastating losses. The incident sent shockwaves through Russia's military leadership and led to the suspension of multiple high-ranking officers.
Slov became infamous.
And hunted.
Unable to remain in Russia, he fled to the United States, eventually selling himself to a vampire baron named Ryan—entering the Dark Arena as a gladiator.
His record was brutal.
Twenty-nine matches in a single year.
Twenty-nine victories.
Eight wins within one minute.
Ten within three minutes.
Most opponents were torn apart.
At the bottom of the file, a single line stood out:
"With one more victory, he will be crowned the strongest rookie of the year."
Lin lan closed the folder slowly.
"A Bloody Polar Bear," he murmured.
Then he smiled.