The underground ring is a brutal place, an illegal institution that takes in the world's masses of unregistered people, criminals, vagrants, mutants, etc. and pushes them into the ring after a short training session to kill each other or send the participants to fight fierce animals with their bare hands.

Lives are lost in every match.

Outside the ring, masked spectators freely place their pre-match bets, excitedly cheering the bloody scenes.

These audiences found their way here through special channels, each of them rich, tired of the confines of the civilized world and looking for new excitement, and this is one of the best places for them to spend their time.

The winner of the match is given a little more than freedom, and if he is lucky, he may have a slave or a tool for his own lust. The loser who falls in the ring will be dragged to the cellar furnace and burned to ashes, and no one will ever pay attention to him again, maybe some rich man who lost the bet will curse him.

At this moment in the ring, two men wearing military brass knuckle were fighting fiercely, the shorter Asian man was the most seriously injured, his stomach was gutted wide open, half of his intestines were shaking, and the blood on his pants was red and black.

He was no match for the burly black man across the room.

The black man only had a few small cuts on his arms that didn't seem to hurt, and he was staring at the yellow man in front of him with a sardonic grin.

The Asian man knew he was going to die, and his face showed a pleading look, and from time to time he let out gibberish that showed his fear.

"Kill him! Kill him!!!"

"Kill ah ah ah ah!!!"

"......"

The game was coming to a close and was about to enter its most exciting moment, with most of the crowd in a frenzy and a very small percentage of those who had bet on the Asian full of disappointment.

Unsurprisingly, the Asian man was abused to death by the black man. Afterwards, the loudspeakers on the top stage broadcast the results, and the staff came out to dispose of the blood and the body while the black man left the arena leisurely accompanied by a doctor.

Some audiences left and some stayed for the next match.

The ring was filled with a fishy smell, while the separate VIP room set up at the top of the audience seemed like another world.

The temperature in the room is controlled at an optimal 24 degrees Celsius, the translucent ceiling casts a soft and filtered sunlight with all kinds of harmful rays, the floor is covered with a carpet made of merino wool, and in the middle is a table with all kinds of high quality ingredients - if you look closely, you will see that the table is not nailed or riveted in any way.

Every inch of the room is filled with capitalism, which is a different picture from the bloody ring.

At the two ends of the table, there are two people sitting.

One of them wore a fox mask, and under the mask was a formal dress, a man by the look of his figure, and not too old, judging from the smooth skin exposed in the sleeves.

On the opposite side of the fox mask was a squinty-eyed man with curly brown hair and fair skin who looked to be in his twenties, with the characteristic western facial features.

After seeing the result of the match, Squints shook his head boredly and put down the champagne in his hand, "The black race is so much stronger that instead of a match, it was more like a massacre, without any suspense."

"If we had known you were coming, we would have prepared a more exciting show, Mr. Velley Ringozo." Fox Mask said, his voice hoarse like an old man.

"That's okay, your hospitality has shown sincerity, and I will show sincerity in trade." Velley turned his head to look at him, "Besides, just call me Velley, wouldn't it be too foreign to call me by my full name, Conard?"

"Yes, but you really don't need to wear a mask? Besides me, you could be seen by other unrelated people ......"

"Why care about that, just change your body if you can't, it's not the first time you've done this, do you care about the points, Conard? " Velley smiled evilly.

Conard's hand clenched unnoticeably, it was obvious that Velley was a guest, but he had been taking the initiative in the conversation since he came over, and was actually testing him.

"That's not true, Mr. Velley, isn't it time we got down to business next?"

"Sure, where to start?"

Foxmask didn't squeak.

"It's really ......" Velley garnished a sip of white wine lightly, "Butchers who kill pigs all the time, even after bathing, still have a cold and bloody smell about them, do you know why? "

"Why?"

"Because the butcher has killed too many lives and has been 'demonized'."

"What is 'demonized'?" The word seemed to be something Conard had heard somewhere, but again, nothing specific rang a bell.

"Oh? You actually don't know? Is it because you don't have enough authority?"

"I'm not going to waste points on unnecessary spending. Also, authors should not spy on each other, it will break our friendship and trust."

"So you guys are a bunch of stagnant antiques." Squints sighed, "Forget it, I'll give you this information for free, magical transformation means the light of the soul fading away."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Don't be in a hurry, I haven't finished my words yet." Velley waved his hand to indicate Fox Mask to stop, "If say, there is a butcher who kills all the animals on the earth including human beings, what will happen to this butcher?"

"Maybe it would become evil." Conard guessed, "Are you saying that the extreme of 'demonization' is to become a demon?"

"Yes, and I'll tell you one more piece of information, the current Earth ...... is demonic."

"Oh, I know that."

"But the sun is not."

"That ...... I know too." Conard hesitated.

Instead of exposing Conard, Velley smiled and continued:

"Do you know why the aliens haven't invaded Earth yet? Because they can only observe a star that is not demonized. If the sun is demonized, then it is announcing to civilizations all over the universe: behold, I have killed a civilization, and there have been traces of it here!"

"A civilization that destroys another civilization, then that civilization will be labeled 'demonic,' and demonic civilizations are not popular, and nobody likes to be around murderers. Therefore, civilizations that are not demonized have a reason to cooperate. As civilizations do, so do people."

"Nice idea, you could go write a science fiction novel." Conard held up his fox mask, noncommittal.

"You can go back to your companions to verify my words, you will be amazed at what you will find. Also I'll send you a prop that can detect magicalization, if you want it."

Velley took out a black box from his sleeve as if by magic, "I call it 'Magic Detector', it can detect approximately how many people a person has killed."

How many people has a person killed? Can it be directly observed on an objective level? Conard was a bit interested, although he was a bit unconvinced, but since Squinty came here to trade, that meant it could indeed be.

"Assuming what you say is true, I'd like to see it, so what would I have to pay to get it?"

"Besides ordinary people and monsters, you also capture newcomer authors, right? I want you to share half of my newcomers ......."

"No way." Conard immediately shook his head and rejected Verily, "Newcomer authors are more precious than gold in the sea, and what we get is extremely limited."

"Oh, but now the speed of the novel web to take in authors seems to have increased, after some time maybe it will break through two hundred or maybe oh."

"This is really hard for me to agree."

"So how about this, for just one year?"

"If you recommend this to the police, it will probably be more popular."

"Please think clearly, there are various ways for authors to advance, exploring the world is also one of the best ways to advance, and there is only one magic detector in the world."

Conard's organization has never come into contact with such an item, and if they want to continue to work together, Velley would not be lying. Then the "magic detector" is probably an alien object, or something only top authors can buy, and it wouldn't hurt to get it.

The reason why Verily is doing business with it is probably because their research is bottlenecked or they can't find more value in it?

"One fifth." Conard tried to bargain.

"One-half!" Velley wouldn't relent.

"One fifth!"

"One half!"

"Then the time limit is one month."

"No, the minimum is a year."

The scene was at a stalemate, the atmosphere slightly chilled, Velley did not relent in the slightest, and Conard did not want to share so many newcomers.

At that moment, the loudspeaker rang a bell.

The second match in the ring began and the participants slowly walked to the ring with their weapons.

The first one to appear was the same strong black man from the last match, his arm was wrapped in gauze and he held a fierce spike bat in his hand, which still had unwashed black blood stains on it.

When they saw the black man appear, the crowd went excited, and they pulled a large bill out of their pockets and threw it at him.

Of course the audience stand was far from the ring and the bills landed as far as the open space outside the ring.

So, who did the black man duel this time?

A few seconds later, the black man's opponent appeared, having been forced out by the staff.

It was a white female, even thinner than the Asian earlier, who looked underage, and you could tell it was a girl by the slight bulge under the shirt.

The young girl was dirty, with bruises all over her skin under her tattered shirt, her hair in disarray, and the only weapon in her hand was a 20 cm long pocket knife.

After seeing the stout black man across the street, the young girl was going crazy with fear and turned around to run back.

But the entrance door was sealed, and the young girl cried out shrilly as she rapped on the iron door of the entrance.

The black man grinned an unpleasant laugh and picked up his spike bat and walked toward the maiden, walking slowly as if to enjoy the fear of his prey.

The young girl's cowardly reaction stimulated the sadistic heart of the audience, and everyone got excited, they wanted to see the black man dismantle the young girl and they wanted to hear the harsh screams.

......

"Let's make a bet, and whoever bets right will listen." Squints smiled and pointed to the ring outside the window, "Who will be the winner of this match?"

"No doubt, a black victory, no one would be stupid enough to bet on that scrawny kid." Conard said.

"You bet on the black man?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll bet on that little girl to win." Velley smiled, "The black man will die."

"What?"

Without giving Conard any more time to think, the black man raised his spike bat and slammed it hard towards the young girl's shoulder as the crowd cheered, ready to remove his opponent's hand all the way first.

The young girl screamed and closed her eyes, instinctively holding the knife in both hands and raising it in front of her head.

The spike bat slammed into the iron door behind the girl with a loud "bang".

The spikes were less than a millimeter from the girl's shoulder.

The black man missed.

And something even more mind-blowing happened. The knife in the girl's hand actually penetrated the black man's neck and even nailed into the cervical vertebrae!

The girl held her head in her hands and crouched in the corner, shivering, pitiful and helpless.

The black man covered his blood-soaked neck and took several steps backwards in a row, he stared at the crouching young girl in shock, confusion, fear, bewilderment ...... soon he collapsed to the ground and stopped breathing.

Till his death he did not figure out why his neck was automatically slammed against the tip of the knife.

"......"

The audience was silent.

The young girl cowered and waited for death. After a long time, she realized something and looked up blankly, only to find that the black man was already dead.

A few dozen seconds later, the loudspeaker broadcasted the result of the match.

"Looks like I won oh." Velley said with a smirk.

"You ...... what did you do?" Conard's voice trembled a little.

"Me? I didn't do anything, huh? Did you see what I did?" Velley shrugged his shoulders innocently.

It was clear to Conard that Velley really hadn't done anything just now, and his breathing hadn't even become half disturbed.

Time Stop? Control the mind? Modify probability? Impossible, the necklace in his arms did not alarm, which means that Velley did not use any ability or prop.

It seems that Velley was simply stating the fact that a black man was about to die, and yet the black man died, and that was all.

Was the black man's death just a coincidence? Did he miss the mark? But why did such a coincidence happen on this bet?

It was terrible.

Velley was stronger than last time, and Conard believed he was in no way a match for him, and he made a deadly bargain ......

No author had ever seen Velley strike, or rather, the man who had gone against him was dead.

Surely, this is the strongest author? A power like a god, completely beyond the understanding of ordinary people.

"Ok...deal."

......

When he was leaving, Velley suddenly asked Conard a question, "Do you have faith?"

Under the sunlight, half of Velley's face was hidden in the shadow of his bangs, while the other half of his face, still wore a high and inscrutable smile. Vaguely, Conard seemed to see the hint of hidden demon-blue pupils under the squinting eyes, watching him with the coldness diametrically opposed to the smile.

"Once I believed in Christ, but since becoming an author, I have lost any faith." The fox mask answered truthfully.

"That is to say, you are an atheist?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hahahaha, then, cherish this time, the world will be changed by me in the near future!"