As Xia Weibao spoke, she glanced at the crowd.
She noticed many looked grave, suppressing their anger.
They seemed to be observing, trying to figure out the style of these boxers.
After losing a few more matches, the boxers from Country A were already lounging around, whispering to each other, not even bothering to look.
This flippant arrogance ignited the fury of all the Chinese present, leaving them indignant.
However, no matter how much they protested verbally, it couldn't change the fact that they had lost more than a dozen matches.
Just when everyone was starting to feel disheartened, an old man walked onto the stage with steady steps.
His hair was somewhat graying, but he was full of spirit, with piercing eyes and a voice as resonant as a bell.
There was an otherworldly sense of returning to simplicity.
At the moment the old man stepped onto the stage, the previously low-spirited audience erupted into thunderous applause.
"Oh my god, it's Master Zhou Nan!"
