"I have multiples girlfriends in Marvel."

"Big Mac remains undefeated—will his next opponent finally put an end to his reign?"

"Do you all want to see more?!"

Su Ye hadn't even stepped into the ring yet, but the announcer was already working the crowd into a frenzy.

"The next victim—if he lasts three minutes in the cage, he'll win $3000!"

The crowd exploded in cheers. But it wasn't the money that thrilled them—it was the cage.

Unlike earlier matches held in an open ring, where challengers could throw in the towel by jumping out, this one was different. Once the cage door shut, there was no way out. No surrender. Only the ref could end it.

This no-escape, fight-to-the-end setup was exactly what underground fans craved.

"Big Mac! Big Mac! Big Mac!" The chants echoed through the arena.

But the announcer wasn't finished yet.

"If he survives five minutes in the cage, he'll win $10,000!"

Ten grand for five minutes? That got the crowd's attention.

Especially from those who hadn't signed the bonus contract—some looked ready to riot, as if they could've lasted even half a minute against Big Mac.

"And if he lasts ten minutes… he'll walk away with $50,000, plus a $50,000 bonus from the organizers!"

A hundred grand for ten minutes.

The crowd suddenly quieted.

The cheers turned to curses.

"What the hell is this? Nobody's lasted three minutes with Big Mac! Who the fuck cares about ten?!"

"Quit stalling! Just get on with it!"

"Forget the $100,000—we just wanna see the guy get wrecked!"

"Who's the next victim? Get him out here already, motherfucker!"

Amid the crowd's shouting, the announcer took control again.

"If he survives ten minutes, the $100,000 prize will go to the terrifying, lethal... Ironhead!"

As the announcer gestured, Ethan Cole entered the ring, wearing a casual athletic hoodie and an Iron Man helmet.

The announcer was clearly enjoying himself—Ironhead was such a ridiculous nickname, it left people speechless.

Seeing Ethan's relatively slim build, the crowd erupted into mocking cheers, showering him with thumbs-down gestures and middle fingers.

Along the walkway, several women—dressed like characters from Ethan's gray cards—hurled insults:

"Big Mac's gonna twist your head off!"

"You better not beg for mercy!"

"We'll tear you apart! Go cry to your mom first!"

"I'll rip off all three of your legs, Ironhead!"

Four of them heckled Ethan relentlessly as he passed, while the audience threw popcorn, bras, and whatever else they had at hand.

These underground arena fans were wild. Throwing things was only the beginning.

Soon, chants of "Kill him! Kill him!" thundered through the arena.

Thankfully, Ethan had come prepared. With his Iron Man helmet on, he barely felt the impact of anything thrown at him.

The atmosphere was charged with madness and bloodlust.

It made Ethan uneasy, but not enough to turn down a payday from a crowd like this.

Once he stepped into the cage, the guards lowered and locked it. The crowd's excitement intensified.

There's nothing like watching someone get destroyed to blow off steam—at least in their eyes.

Still, the fans were annoyed that Ironhead's helmet concealed his face. His calm composure only made them angrier.

The chants roared louder: "Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"

In the ring, the hulking Big Mac McGregor tilted his head, looking at Ethan Cole with a dumb, muscle-headed expression.

"Don't worry, cutie. I'll make sure you last three minutes. And in those three minutes, I'll give you the ultimate, most thorough experience. Trust me!"

Opposite him, Ethan ignored the big guy's words and pulled something from his pocket.

"Huh? You actually brought a weapon?"

Big Mac McGregor was momentarily stunned, then his face lit up again with excitement and bloodlust.

"Bringing a weapon won't help you. I'll make sure you understand that carrying a weapon will only make you lose in a worse way—and enjoy it even more!"

McGregor taunted, basking in the crowd's cheers.

But then he realized that what Ethan held wasn't a weapon—it was a book.

A comic book, to be exact.

It was Iron Man vs. Captain America, recently published.

People in media and publishing always have sharp instincts. Iron Man had only been in the spotlight for about three months, and they'd already pitted him against the legendary Captain America.

They hadn't obtained permission from Tony Stark, so the comic was technically unauthorized.

But its popularity was unstoppable.

Seeing Ethan pull out this comic, many people were bewildered. It wasn't because of the comic itself—they'd all seen it.

But still… you're about to get killed, and instead of writing a will, you're reading a comic? Is your brain full of crap?

No, maybe you just don't have one!

"Kill that idiot!"

"Kill him, motherfker!"**

"Send that damn fool to his death!"

Big Mac McGregor cracked his knuckles, responding to the crowd's demands as he lunged toward Ethan.

"Your three minutes start now. Put down the comic and come play, little cutie!"

McGregor was powerful, and his charge wasn't slow. In such a small ring, his tackle almost never failed.

The crowd anticipated his move, waiting for him to seize Ironhead, that skinny opponent, and give him the pummeling and humiliation they loved to watch.

The very thought of it made them eager enough to devour a whole bucket of popcorn.

But no one expected what happened next. Big Mac McGregor's sure-fire tackle ended up hitting the cage wall directly.

He didn't catch Ethan's body, and as he rubbed his head and turned around, he found that Ethan had vanished from the ring.

"Damn it! F**k! Get out here!"

McGregor spun around, roaring angrily. How could a person just disappear?

"Look up!"

"Big Mac, check above you!"

Following the audience's shouts, McGregor finally spotted his opponent, Ironhead, somehow already perched ten meters up on the cage's ceiling.

At this moment, there he was, legs hooked onto the cage top, hanging upside down… calmly reading his comic.