Arena of Might was established by a powerful organisation with immense financial backing. It was a playground for those who gambled their lives, its mechanism quite similar to the Beast Fighting Arena in Spirit Martial City that Lan An had once participated in. But while the Beast Fighting Arena pitted humans against beasts, Arena of Might was where humans slaughtered humans—and in a free-for-all melee… only one survivor emerged in the end, life and death at one's own risk.
Located at the farthest end of Giant Tyrant City, even from a hundred li away, Lan An could already hear the deafening roars, chaos, and ear-splitting curses. Countless figures swarmed—some massive, some small.
Arena of Might's central fighting stage had a radius of roughly a hundred li. Surrounding it were spiral tiers of seats rising from low to high, ensuring every spectator could clearly watch the carnage in the middle.
From high above, the crowd looked like an endless sea of ants. Lan An was too lazy to count.
Lan An's trio landed at the entrance. Two towering men immediately approached—clearly managers. Their cultivation reached Seventh-Turn Body Cultivation—not simple.
"Three of you here to fight or spectate?" one asked bluntly.
"Explain the rules," Lan An replied calmly. He needed details on how Arena of Might worked.
The two men exchanged glances—first-timers. They patiently explained:
"Spectators pay 100 Man Stones for a seat—betting optional. Combatants sign a life-and-death contract. The final victor receives half the total bets from the organisers. No participant limit—this round likely over two hundred!"
Lan An inwardly gasped. Over two hundred in a melee, spectators uncountable—the betting pool would be astronomical. One winner meant odds over 1 in 200…
Low odds, but payout monstrous—easier than hitting the lottery in his previous life. No wonder it drew crowds.
The victor also received half the bets from organisers—one step to the heavens. No wonder many risked death.
"Any restrictions?" Wu San Niang asked coolly.
"Registrants must declare exact cultivation to avoid massive gaps unbalancing the fight. Average this round: Mid Sixth-Turn to Early Seventh-Turn!" the man answered.
Wu San Niang instantly lost interest—she had wanted to stretch her legs.
"Any of you entering the arena?"
Lan An was about to reply when the system's mechanical voice rang in his head:
"Keng! Side Quest 'Repay Gratitude' activated. Success: 3 drops Warm Blood Liquid + 1 Treasure Summon. Failure: Hostility with Giant Race."
Quest Note: Join Arena of Might. Help Giant Race member – Ju A Man – achieve victory.
Lan An's face turned strange. This quest perfectly matched his intent—he had planned to fight anyway, harvest Fame Points, and test his current combat strength.
As for this Giant Race member named Ju A Man—easy to spot.
"I'll fight. Late Sixth-Turn Body Cultivation!" Lan An told the two middle-aged men without hesitation.
Correct. Half a year of brutal training in Eight Gates Escape Armor had pushed his Body Cultivation from Early Sixth-Turn to Late Sixth-Turn—nearly Perfect. Decent progress.
Wu San Niang and the mutated Man-Chicken glanced at him, interested but silent.
"Follow me to sign the life-and-death contract and verify cultivation!" one middle-aged man led.
Lan An nodded, sound-transmitting his betting target to his master before following.
"We'll take two spectator seats—and place a bet!" Wu San Niang said excitedly, handing over 200 Man Stones.
"This way!" the other man guided.
Arena of Might was neutral—took bets, profited regardless of winner. They didn't care who spectators backed.
…
As Lan An's group entered, two figures at the gate instantly drew the crowd's attention.
Two giants nearly a hundred metres tall. One wore black robes, hooded and masked—face hidden. The other, a young man in beast-hide armour, muscular and rugged, face stern yet slightly naive.
Arena of Might could easily accommodate such giants—showing its grandeur. But their size and form made their identity obvious.
"Giant Race?"
Countless eyes stared—with contempt, disdain, pity… and mockery.
The two Giant Race members ignored the gazes. The exposed-face youth boomed at the managers, voice echoing:
"Is a Giant Race member named Ju A Man registered for this round?"
"Correct!" a manager nodded. Many knew.
"Damn it, that idiot!" the masked Giant muttered—though his massive body meant no one heard.
"No way! A Man can't fight! We're taking him back!" the youth panicked, pleading with the managers.
"Too late. He signed the contract—must participate!" the manager shrugged.
"Impossible!" the youth roared, worry filling his eyes. With that kid's strength—Arena of Might was far more dangerous than beneficial.
"Causing trouble at Arena of Might?" the manager's face darkened, Seventh-Turn aura faintly releasing. Running a place like this, they feared no one—especially fallen Giant Race members.
"But…" the youth tried again, only for his masked companion to pull him back. A clear voice transmitted:
"We can't break Arena rules. Watch the situation. A Man's strength might win!"
"Big Sister, if something happens…" the youth still worried. Giant Race now numbered less than a hundred—couldn't lose anyone.
"If A Man is in danger—I'll intervene, even at the cost of my life!" the masked Giant said firmly.
The youth could only nod, heart still heavy.
"Haha, aren't these two oversized rats?"
At that moment, an arrogant laugh shook the hall. Two more giants appeared.
Also a hundred metres tall, but unlike normal humans—dark green skin, four arms, muscles bulging grotesquely. Wide mouths with ivory-like tusks—utterly ferocious.
One looked young—straight as a pillar, four arms adorned with beast bones, black hair flowing, wearing massive impenetrable war armour.
The other similar but older—white hair and beard, leaning on a pillar-like staff, golden tusks protruding, simple cloth robes, standing behind the young green giant.
Seeing these ferocious beings, the crowd instantly made way respectfully. Eyes filled with fanaticism and worship, they shouted:
"Greetings, noble Giant Han Race!"
Whispers exploded, gazes completely different from toward the Giant Race earlier:
"That armoured youth is Han Wei? Heard he's one of the Giant Han Race's top ten geniuses—under 500 years, already Early Seventh-Turn Body Cultivation…"
"No mistake. The old man behind must be a Giant Han protector—at least Eighth-Turn!"
Arena managers looked reverently at the two Giant Han. Members of one of Manhuang Realm's current two strongest races—how not to fawn?
"Two honoured Giant Han gracing us—our Arena's privilege!"
The crowd's fawning was like ants beneath their feet. The two Giant Han ignored them, only staring mockingly at the two Giant Race members.
"Let's go in!" the masked Giant said calmly to her companion, paying no heed to the Giant Han's gazes.
But ignoring them didn't mean the Giant Han would ignore back…
Han Wei stepped forward with amusement, blocking their path. His massive body shook the hall. He smirked:
"Heard that idiot Ju A Man is participating this round?"
"Correct, Young Master Han Wei!" a manager fawned.
"Haha, interesting. I'll join too… killing a Giant Race member fair and square shouldn't break the old oath!" Han Wei licked his tusks with relish.
The two Giant Race members' eyes contracted. The masked one's clear voice snapped: "Han Wei, hasn't your Giant Han Race bullied enough? Must drive us to extinction?"
"Hehe, I just love seeing your angry yet helpless faces…" Han Wei revelled.
"If you don't mind, I'll register too… let's see how many punches Young Master Han Wei can take from me!" the masked Giant said coldly.
Han Wei's eyes shrank. Though Giant Race fallen, surviving geniuses remained. This woman—the Giant Race's number one genius—was far beyond him.
His gaze swept to the managers, amused: "I'm the last registrant this round, right?"
The managers' eyes lit up, nodding like chickens pecking rice, fawning: "Correct! With Young Master Han Wei, registration is full—no more allowed!"
"Bastards! Bullying too far… since when does Arena of Might limit numbers?" the exposed Giant youth roared in fury.
Even the masked Giant clenched fists in rage, barely holding back.
"Hehe, decided!" Han Wei laughed, shaking the hall, arrogantly entering with his protector.
The crowd worshipped his retreating back.
This was overwhelming authority. This was the strong dictating rules, dictating everything.
Watching Han Wei's back, the two Giant Race members' eyes blazed with killing intent. The youth's face twisted as he asked:
"Big Sister, what do we do this time?"
The black-robed Giant inhaled deeply, finally saying gravely: "Gather all Giant Race members to Giant Tyrant City. Await my orders!"
"Yes!" The youth nodded seriously, swiftly departing.
The black-robed Giant trembled all over. If mishandled, this could end the Giant Race forever. But she had no regrets. Giant Race would rather die standing than live kneeling. No more humiliation for any clansman. They had endured enough these years…
…