The Starfield Farming Sovereign (Elizabeth Schofield) novel Chapter 369

Chapter 369 Blood and Ashes

+5 Pearis

The deafening roar nearly tore the low metal ceiling apart, and the air was thick with violence and the fever of money.

Under the blinding spotlight, inside the octagonal steel cage, two figures clashed in the most primitive and brutal way imaginable.

“Willard! Tear him apart! Yes! That’s it! Smash his head in!”

“Kill him! Kill him, and I’m cashing out big tonight!”

“Get him! Don’t give him a chance! Willard, you’re the best!”

The man called Willard Gordon was massive, his bare upper body covered in overlapping scars and savage tattoos, his muscles like forged steel.

His eyes burned red, a beast-like growl rumbling in his throat as he straddled his opponent. At the same time, his fists crashed down like hammers again and again into the man’s head and chest.

The opponent’s face was already soaked in blood, his consciousness fading. He could only instinctively raise his arms to shield vital spots, letting out broken, dying gasps.

The referee watched nervously, while one ear tuned to the orders crackling through his earpiece, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

Finally, he clenched his teeth and rushed forward, waving his arms to signal a forced stop. At the same time, a sharp warning bell pierced the chaos.

“Stop! Willard! Stop immediately! The match is over!” the referee shouted.

But the crowd below was drunk on bloodlust. At the referee’s interference, they erupted into even louder boos and curses.

“Get out of the way! Let him finish it!”

“I bet on a knockout! Don’t you dare stop this!”

“Kill him! Willard! Kill that worthless trash!”

Willard, too, had been swept up in the frenzy. Ignoring the referee completely, he let out a savage grin and raised his fist, gathering strength for the final, crushing blow.

At that very moment, the man beneath him, who looked all but dead, somehow forced out the last ounce of strength from his body. Through blood-blurred eyes, a desperate, cornered fury exploded, His legs. curled tight, suddenly lashed out with everything he had and kicked brutally straight into Willard’s

abdomen.

“Ugh!” Caught completely off guard, Willard staggered back and nearly lost his footing.

The sudden reversal silenced the arena for a split second, and then chaos erupted again.

alt

Chapter 369 Blood and Ashes

“Pathetic! Willard, what the hell was that?!”

“You got kicked by a dying man? Are you paying back my losses?!”

“Finish him! End it!”

Willard steadied himself, the sharp pain in his gut mixing with the humiliation of being embarrassed in front of the crowd. It swallowed what little reason he had left.

With a low growl, eyes blazing, he surged forward like an enraged bear. Ignoring the referee, he intended to end the fight-and the life of the man who dared resist-in the most brutal way possible.

“Willard!” The referee panicked, rushing in and grabbing his arm tightly. Leaning close, he hissed in a low. urgent voice only the two of them could hear, “Orders just came in from the boss! This man is worth a hundred million. They want him alive. If you kill him now, you’re the one paying that price. Think carefully!”

A hundred million? Those words hit like a bucket of ice water.

Willard froze. His heavy breathing slowed, the rage in his eyes giving way to doubt and calculation.

He glanced at the man on the ground, who was barely human and was clinging to a thread of breath.

Then, he looked at the referee’s tense face. Finally, he spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor, cursed under his breath, and forced himself to relax. With a final glare, he turned around and stormed off the platform.

A death match was stopped cold by a sudden price tag and an unseen command.

The defeated man, like a discarded rag, was dragged away by two expressionless staff members. He was pulled out of the spotlight and the roaring crowd and thrown into the filthy, chaotic waiting room behind

the arena.

The room was dimly lit, thick with the stench of antiseptic, sweat, and blood.

A few battered chairs were scattered about, occupied by fighters waiting for their turn, or those who had just returned.

Most of them were injured, and their expressions were either numb or cruel.

When they saw the man dragged in, barely recognizable beneath the blood, their reactions varied.

Some looked away, indifferent, continuing to adjust their gear or rest with closed eyes.

Others sneered, whispering mockery to their companions.

And some went further. One fighter, lean with a long scar across his face, stood up with a malicious grin and strolled over. He nudged the man’s mangled arm with the tip of his boot.

“Well, well, isn’t this our once-famous ‘Champion Soldier’?” he drawled mockingly. “What happened? King of the arena up there, but now you’re just a dying dog down here? Hah! Guess a fallen eagle really is worse

than a street rat.

alt

9:11 am P P P P

Chapter 369 Blood and Ashes

+6 Paeris

“Haha, ‘Champion Soldier’ my ass, another chimed in with a laugh. “More like a champion punching bag Willard beat you like a sack of sand. And what was that last kick? A dying man’s last twitch?

10.8K

He Farming Saint in the Starry Wasteland