Chapter 236: The Liars

Just three seconds later, countless mineral water bottles, cans, fruit cores, and other debris rained down from the surrounding stands, along with a flurry of white slips—tickets issued by various betting companies.

"Liars! You're all liars!"

"You sons of bitches, give us our money back!"

"Bullshit! This is blatant match-fixing!"

"Do they take us for fools? Both of them are bastards!"

"Hey! Isn't this too much of a farce? The Ancient Trace and the remnant soul of the Minotaur just vanished like that?"

"Strong protest! That NHSAA referee, is he an idiot? They're colluding to cheat, cheating!"

"Bastards! If the NHSAA competition committee doesn't give us an explanation today, I'll go get a gun and shoot them tomorrow."

"They're just scamming us for money! Hey! Anyone want to join me in filing a complaint with the Gambling Regulatory Commission?"

"Yeah, we can also go to the Gambling Regulatory Commission! We can band together and hire some lawyers—we can't let them get away with this!"

As the surrounding stands erupted over Cardio Rhode's complete defeat, Abraham Archibald in Box 9 suddenly staggered a few steps and sat back down in his seat.

At first, he was incredulous, then he clenched his fists, his face twisted with rage.

"Jakes! What about the fate gem you mentioned?"

"I don't know!" Cressey Jakes's face was grim. "But clearly, that gem couldn't help Cardio Rhode reverse his fate. We miscalculated. That lucky Andre probably has the ability to suppress spirits. The remnant soul of the Minotaur ended up harming him instead."

"I don't care about that! All I know is that he lost. You violated our agreement, Jakes!"

Abraham's eyes were bloodshot, like a defeated bull. "Accordingly, I will withdraw my promises to you!"

"Understood."

Cressey Jakes couldn't help but sigh. "This is my fault, but Mr. Abraham, I suggest you take action as soon as possible. I suspect those betting companies will soon join forces to pressure the NHSAA competition committee into reviewing the fairness of this match, which will help them deal with the Gambling Regulatory Commission."

"Review?"

Abraham frowned. "Didn't you assure me that the seven Cretan Black Blood Stones on Cardio Rhode could withstand any investigation?"

"That was before."

Cressey Jakes's figure had already vanished from the glass window, but his voice lingered in the box. "The problem is that Andre has the ability to suppress soul bodies, which likely caused repulsion between Cardio Rhode himself and the Minotaur's remnant soul. This is very bad, Mr. Abraham. The possibility of him being found to have used forbidden techniques is 100%!"

Hearing this, Abraham Archibald broke out in a cold sweat. He knew that if Cardio Rhode was found to have problems, their Arcadis Sporting Goods Company would face disastrous consequences.

—The current measures were either to block the NHSAA competition committee or to find a way to cut ties with Cardio Rhode.

At the same time, in Box 45, Jennifer Wiltonshire sighed softly and stood up from her seat. "Oliver, go to the Red Sparrow Club right now and issue a commission. I need to hire two quasi-legends, contract term three years! The faster, the better."

"Yes, I'll head to the Red Sparrow shortly."

Oliver looked worried. "But Miss, I must remind you that our financial pressure is already very heavy."

"How could I not know? We've spread ourselves too thin. One misstep and we could face a funding gap."

Jennifer sighed softly. "But if I don't do this, I might be kicked out of the Wiltonshire Group in a few months. There's an Eastern saying: 'Drinking poison to quench thirst.' That's my state right now. If I don't drink this poison, I might lose everything now; if I drink it, I can at least survive two or three more months. We have to buy time, Oliver."

Oliver opened his mouth as if to speak, but ultimately held back his words, instead forcing a bitter smile. "I hope a turning point comes in the next few months."

"Don't worry, Oliver. If there's really no way, I'll sell my pioneering base in the dark world to avoid going completely bankrupt."

Jennifer then cast a strange glance out the glass window at Li Mochen, who was just stepping down from the ring. "After you go to the Red Sparrow Club to issue the commission, also hire a capable magic hunter to monitor Christian Wiltonshire's movements. I don't need to know what he's doing, but at least where he is—"

...

Meanwhile, in Box 3, Alec Brood was on the phone: "Yes, Penguin Betting hopes for third-party involvement. If possible, it would be best to invite professional media personnel for full supervision. Yes, it's troublesome. But it also helps the NHSAA competition committee maintain its credibility and reputation, doesn't it? I can already foresee the media storm tomorrow. If we don't conduct a thorough and comprehensive investigation, everyone will be in trouble."

"The whole process was indeed unexpected, even baffling. But I assure you, we did nothing—we didn't intervene in this match at all. We can't bear this infamy. You understand, don't you? That's great. I'll treat you to coffee another day—"

When Alec hung up, Dwight Payton handed him a glass of Bordeaux red wine.

Alec immediately smiled, took the glass from Dwight, and raised it high. "Let's toast! To the lucky Andre! And to Penguin Betting and the Nathan Sports Group."

Everyone in the box—employees of Penguin Betting and Nathan—responded with a thunderous cheer. Dwight Payton, however, smiled wryly. "No need to make such a big deal, Alec. I think the Gambling Regulatory Commission's inquiry is coming next. Let's keep a low profile, okay?"

Betting company and Nathan Sports Group people mingling together—that could easily spark speculation.

"Precisely because I foresaw that, we opened the windows and have full video and audio recordings, haven't we? And we truly did nothing. I think the Gambling Regulatory Commission will at most fine us for 'deliberately guiding public opinion.'"

Alec laughed carelessly. "Cheer up, Dwight! You guys made a killing this time. I bet next week's sales for Nathan Sports Group will start at a billion!"

"I hope so! But that still pales compared to Penguin Betting's profits. You made at least 1.3 billion shields this time, didn't you? Most of that is pure profit."

Dwight Payton smiled and finished the wine in his glass. "Besides, I have a bit of a headache now."

"Headache?"

Alec Brood was first taken aback, then smiled knowingly. "Yeah, Dwight, it's too fast. Andre is indeed strong—few high schoolers can last a round against him. But that's not very friendly to the broadcasting stations and viewers. You need to talk to him, Dwight. He should at least go back and forth for a few dozen rounds to make it interesting. That benefits everyone, doesn't it? Hmm~ How about starting with his next opponent?"

But Dwight, upon hearing this, gave Alec a sidelong glance. "You bastard, you're up to some mischief again, aren't you?"

He knew that Li Mochen's semifinal opponent was named Brood—a magic swordsman who, six months ago, had suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of James Lanster in about thirty rounds.