Infinite flow, but I submit myself

Paradise Lost—The Hell of Hunger.

One of the branches of the Devil’s Casino was located here—the largest underground casino in the Hell of Hunger. The place was packed with people, a never-ending carnival of vice. Slot machines, Texas Hold’em, Baccarat, dice, and Blackjack tables were all surrounded by gamblers, the air thick with excitement.

But the real highlight—the attraction that defined the Devil’s Casino—was undoubtedly the special gambling event on each floor.

And on the first floor, the biggest, loudest, and most-watched event was without question—the “Revival Match”, better known as the Devil’s Gladiator Arena!

At the bar counter, many patrons sat quietly, sipping their drinks as their eyes remained fixed on the most eye-catching screen in the casino.

The screens, arranged in a massive half-circle, ensured that no matter where one stood, they could always glance up and catch the action. The monitors flickered constantly, displaying live streams of ongoing and upcoming gladiator fights, each accompanied by rapidly updating betting odds.

Suddenly—a golden glow flashed across one of the screens.

The viewer count skyrocketed.

This immediately caught the attention of the gamblers.

Hank looked up instinctively and raised an eyebrow. “That many people watching? Did another so-called ‘dark horse’ show up?”

The term ‘dark horse’ was ironic in the Revival Match. After all, every participant here was a demon with zero points—failures, rejects who had been optimized out and cast away as trash. Occasionally, though, an unexpected upset would occur, whether through sheer luck or treachery.

Whenever that happened, the betting pools exploded with activity.

“No, I heard it’s a pure newcomer this time.”

A pure newcomer meant someone who had never made a name for themselves in the Hell of Hunger—possibly someone who had just barely survived the beginner’s trial.

“For real?” Hank frowned in surprise. But they didn’t have to speculate for long—because soon, all the screens shifted to display the fighter information.

Typically, five gladiator fights were broadcasted simultaneously, each assigned to a different screen.

But now—every screen was locked onto a single match.

There was only one explanation—

This fight’s popularity had surpassed all others—it had jumped to VIP priority level!

“Damn… he really is a total rookie. Even the Devil’s Casino doesn’t have much info on him.”

“Apparently, he didn’t even pass the beginner’s trial. He got sent straight to the Revival Match.”

“Wait—then how the hell is he a ‘dark horse’?”

“No clue… but the casino’s highlight clips make him look decent.”

That last gambler was referring to the preview clips playing on-screen. Before bets officially opened, the casino always hyped up the fight by showcasing both fighters’ past performances.

For Tang Mo Bai, a complete newcomer with no records, the casino had to pull clips directly from his livestream footage. Meanwhile, Seth’s highlights came from his previous gladiator battles.

Seth’s win record wasn’t particularly impressive, but it wasn’t terrible either. He had survived the arena for a long time, which was already an achievement. When he first fell to the gladiator pits, he had looked just as battle-worn as he did now. Over time, many had challenged him, drawn in by his broken appearance—yet one challenger after another had come and gone, while Seth still stood.

One side—a newcomer so fresh it was ridiculous.

The other—a veteran, practically a gladiator machine.

This was interesting enough for Hank to toss the last of his drinking money into the betting pool.

The odds? 10 to 1.

Seth’s support completely crushed Tang Mo Bai’s.

【Tang Mo Bai vs. Seth】

【Standard Gladiator Match】

Tang Mo Bai had no way of seeing the bets placed on him—but he could read the crowd’s reactions.

And judging by the roaring spectators, it seemed… pretty promising.

The entire audience, both newcomers and veterans, had piled into the stands. They blended in seamlessly with the usual background noise of the gladiator pit, hurling jeers at the fighters.

“Fight! Seth, break that rookie apart! Show him what happens when you challenge us!”

“Hey, rookie! How about fighting me next? I promise I’ll go easy on you! Hahaha!”

“You can fight me too! I’ll let you win—for a price!”

It took a great effort for Tang Mo Bai to pull his attention away from the crowd and back to his opponent.

Seth, however, remained silent.

No matter how many taunts were thrown at him from the stands, his expression never wavered.

“Uh… so… we just start like this?” Tang Mo Bai hesitated.

Sure, Yan Wuzhen had arranged this match—but this was his first time throwing a fight.

What if he messed up?

When they had finalized the contract, confirming they were on the same side, Tang Mo Bai had immediately admitted: “I don’t know how to act.”

But Yan Wuzhen didn’t seem the least bit concerned. He had simply smiled and said—

“Relax. I’ve got it all planned out. Just stand in the ring, and everything will fall into place.”

His expression, at that moment, was strangely confident—as if he were saying:

“Even if I threw a pig into that arena, our plan would still work.”

For a brief moment, Tang Mo Bai’s thoughts wandered.

And then—

【Beautiful move! Keep it up, rookie! I’m betting on you!】

【Go, go! My entire fortune is on you! Don’t screw this up!】

【Damn, is he actually turning this around?! Seth, you washed-up rust bucket, just go to the scrapyard already!】

The crowd exploded.

Those who had bet on Tang Mo Bai were cheering madly. Those who had bet on Seth were furious.

But one thing was clear—

The tides were shifting.

The casino’s main floor had completely frozen. Even the other gamblers, busy with their own games, had paused to watch the match unfold.

A VIP-priority fight was already rare.

A high-odds fight was even rarer.

A high-odds fight where the underdog looked like he might actually win?

Almost unheard of.

With all three factors stacked together, even those who had no interest in gladiator battles were glued to the screen, wondering if they were about to witness a legendary gambling upset.

Back in the ring, Tang Mo Bai cracked his knuckles, took a step forward, and launched another rapid assault—

He knew the rule of these fights well—

Kick them when they’re down. And make sure they stay there.

Seth staggered to his feet. His bloodshot eyes gave away his exhaustion, but his expression remained unchanged. His attacks were still sharp—still lethal.

But anyone with eyes could tell—

Tang Mo Bai was winning.

His punches were no longer weak—

Every strike was aimed straight at Seth’s vital points.

By the way, one of Tang Mo Bai’s instructors was from the “Mad Dog School,” specializing in unrestricted fighting—using any means necessary to disable the opponent. Among all the combat styles, this was the one Tang Mo Bai learned the fastest.

As a result, the once-cheering barrage of comments in the live stream gradually cooled down.

Tang Mo Bai was aggressive, learned quickly, and looked every bit like a rising combat star, but… why was he exclusively targeting the lower body?

In reality, his team of instructors silently turned to look at a thin, dark-skinned man among them. The man coughed awkwardly a few times and muttered, “Well… isn’t it effective?”

The others teased him, “No worries, at least now we finally understand why this kid hesitated to go all out in real combat before.”

But now, against an enemy, he had no such concerns.

Seth’s previously cold expression finally cracked. He could see it—just within a single battle, Tang Mo Bai had undergone a transformation. From a rookie with only flashy moves, he was evolving into a true combatant… and a lower-body-targeting specialist!

To preserve his dignity as a man, Seth was now truly at a disadvantage—not pretending to be.

The audience fell into silence. Everyone quietly watched the scene unfold. Even the newcomers held their breath. They weren’t sure why they felt so tense—perhaps it was a sense of resonance, knowing that Tang Mo Bai was also a newcomer, or maybe it was the thrill of seeing an underdog rise up.

… That is to say, if only he could fight a little cleaner.

BANG!

Finally, Tang Mo Bai found another opportunity—or rather, Seth finally had enough and deliberately exposed an opening.

Tang Mo Bai’s left fist, charged with power, smashed directly into the center of Seth’s nose, sending him toppling backward, momentarily unconscious and unable to rise.

The silence was quickly drowned out by an avalanche of comments:

【Hahaha, I won my bet!】
【Fuck, what a waste of money!】

The winners rejoiced, while the losers cursed in frustration.

Tang Mo Bai staggered slightly, barely managing to stay on his feet. At this moment, he finally realized that this was all staged—that he was in a rigged fight. His instinctive reaction was to look toward the exit.

But the countdown that signified the end of the duel had not stopped.

Huh?

“KILL HIM!”

“TEAR HIM APART!”

From the stands came a wave of excited shouts. Tang Mo Bai snapped out of his daze and turned toward the spectators. Under the glow of the crimson moon, their faces seemed to twist with wild, savage delight.

【What are you waiting for? Kill him!】
【Break his legs, rip off his arms!】
【Ahhhh, fuck! A bunch of useless trash! Destroy that damn robot—I lost a fortune because of him!】
【Woooo! My favorite part of the fight!】
【Do it! Finish him! From now on, you’ll be my favorite streamer!】

A gladiatorial duel was always meant to be a bloody spectacle.

There was no such thing as “stopping when the winner is decided.” Even in a “normal mode” match, rather than a deathmatch, the fight didn’t end until one side was either unconscious or dead.

And now, after victory had been determined, was the most popular part—the slaughter time.

The frenzy in the live chat was almost tangible, as if it could set the entire arena ablaze. Each person in the crowd poured out their malice without restraint, their faces appearing monstrous under the crimson glow.

No, it wasn’t just an illusion.

They were monsters.

The so-called Revival Matches existed to take demons deemed “unfit” and force them through a brutal process—stripping them of their conscience, erasing their morality, reshaping them into creatures of pure savagery and cruelty.

Only then could a being truly become a qualified demon.

The crimson moon’s glow bore no trace of divinity. Instead, it bathed the scene in an eerie, unholy radiance. Paired with the thunderous roars of the crowd, it felt as though the arena itself was on the verge of swallowing the young man whole.