The Supreme God of Martial Arts novel Chapter 397

Dewey's opponent in the battle ring was a tall, thin talent whose eyes were sharp as an eagle's and palm skills extraordinary.

Dewey put up a fearful and flattering appearance for his opponent, sending the audience into bursts of laughter.

His opponent couldn't help but laugh either.

"Well, well, well. I never expected my first opponent to be trash, just like a pig. Alright. If you want me to spare you, you need to go down on your knees and beg for my mercy. I might spare your life when I'm in a good mood. Hahaha!"

The tall, thin young man was cocky and felt superior to everyone else, treating Dewey with what he thought was mercy.

"Damn it! Is Dewey really that weak? Or he is just playing dumb?"

Austin was curious about Dewey's attitude towards the young man.

What was it about Dewey?

Austin had released his spiritual sense and suddenly, he sensed the craftiness that had crept into Dewey's eyes.

Was it what he thought it was?

Suddenly, Dewey contracted his chunky body and turned himself into a meatball, releasing a pressure that seemed to be quite dangerous. He bounced up towards the tall, thin young man like lightning.

The young man had taken his concentration off Dewey for quite a while now. He had thought that he could ravage the fat, short wretch in front of him pretty easily. What he had not expected was the sudden attack that Dewey was staging on him.

Dewey's meatball self seemed to have great elasticity and an amazing speed. Within seconds, Dewey was almost in the young man's face.

"AAAARGGGHHH!"

The tall, thin young man seemed to realize that he had been tricked by the fat man.

He roared. There was no time left for him to just make gestures. As a conditioned reflex, his hands came up before him, blocking his body from harm.

Boom!

The battle ring shook fiercely. The power contained in the meatball was powerful enough that Dewey had managed to pulverize the young man with a single attack. There was no sign of the young man, except for some bloody fog.

Wow!

Dewey's counterattack had shocked the audience into paying close attention to the battle ring.

The fat guy turned out to be just playing dumb.

Each eye that was on Dewey turned solemn and respectful, erasing their earlier disdain and mockery. Everyone was now reevaluating Dewey's true strength.

After winning the competition, Dewey jumped out of the battle ring and returned to Prince Reuben's team. He stood beside Austin with a silly smile on his face.

"Dewey, you're so fierce!"

The more Austin looked at Dewey, the more wretched he thought Dewey was. And he kept playing dumb all the time. But in fact, his strength was amazing, and he was so ruthless and fierce that he spared no life while fighting. Austin thought they were quite similar when it came to their fighting styles.

"I was just protecting my job, Tin. If I meet you in the competition, please show me some mercy and spare my life," Dewey grinned at Austin, piling on the flattery.

But Austin knew that anyone who showed their disdain towards Dewey would most definitely be dead.

"You want me to show mercy to you? You mean you want me to admit defeat before fighting?"

Austin said, his brows furrowed in faux-sorrow.

"Well... I don't mean that. Whatever it is, don't be so fierce when you beat me, Tin. I don't want to be smashed into pieces. Your combat mode is too scary!"

"What? Are you serious? It looks like you are fiercer than I am. You just smashed someone into blood fog, for God's sake!"

Austin said incredulously.

"Ah !"

Dewey said, a wonky, slightly smug smile on his face.

"Fatty, keep it up. Let's see who actually believes you," Maria said from beside him. She couldn't help but laugh when she saw Dewey with the same silly expression on his face.

The second round of the competition, in addition to Dewey, had many other strong players in the battle ring to ensure that the audience enjoyed every bit of it.

Among them, a player on battle ring No. 56 attracted Austin's attention as well as that of many in the audience. He was about sixteen years old and was beautiful, with pale skin that most girls would die for. His hands were pale and fingers slender, and he was such a delight to look at that it felt like there was magic happening around them.

This boy belonged to the Prince Ernest's team.

His opponent this time was a man of about 24 years old. The man was tall and heavy and was carrying a spear on his shoulder—one that was more than one meter long and as thick as an adult's arm. The spearhead was made of refined steel and cold iron, shining in the sunlight. Everyone around the battle ring could feel a great pressure radiating off of him.

But the boy just stood still. Calmly.

The man was domineering, and one could tell just by looking at him squinting at the young man.

The two players were standing on the battle ring waiting for the other to make a move.

Their clothes fluttered in the wind.

"You know what, little kid. If you get down on your knees on the ground and kowtow three times to me, I will spare your life.