Chapter 483 The Beloved

"Did you meet the Sorcerer the night before last?"

When the two convoys blocked each other's view, Loren Reynard turned to Williams and asked: "What did His Excellency say?"

"His Excellency taught me some things and gave me a guarantee. I can't say much about the details."

Felton Williams' lips curled slightly: "I've never been as confident about tonight's battle as I am now, including my future."

Reynard couldn't help but laugh. This fighting prodigy he had nurtured, though seemingly indifferent to the challenge from that lucky prince of Georgia, was still just a middle school student. How could he not care at all about the rising momentum of the East Coast? Not worry at all?

Philip I, who had once approached godhood in his early years, the two supreme families, and the Sorcerer who had already ascended to godhood—besides these, Williams must have also been in contact with other forces.

It seemed that the early encounter with Andre Lee Wiltonstein was actually a good thing for Williams.

"Then tonight, defeat him cleanly! You can do it, Felton!"

"Of course!"

The boy in the black school uniform clenched his fist fiercely: "I will defeat him! NMOSA (National Mixed Martial Arts of Cold Weapons) is not a place just anyone can enter. That lucky Andre should just obediently roll back to Georgia and be his crown prince."

...

At the same time, two people were above the clouds, gazing down with a casual demeanor.

"Do you think he can defeat your mixed-blood descendant?"

Standing on the left was an elderly man in a magic robe with gold-rimmed glasses: "I've watched Andre's combat footage. With my insight, I still can't see through him, but he is undoubtedly stronger than Williams was before. Moreover, I don't think this can help you win the war five months from now. Such tactics are somewhat childish."

"I hope he can! You and I have given him everything we could, so we are naturally entitled to expect an ideal outcome."

Philip I said calmly: "And what you consider childish can bring that bastard fifty to ten billion shields in annual revenue, net profit."

"That much?"

"Indirect influence will only be greater. Due to Andre's bloodline, his influence in the East is also growing. Nathan Group, Catilo Apparel, Norfolk Motor Company have all benefited; their products recently opened up that closed market. And now, the reputation and influence of him and his grandfather in politics and business are increasing day by day."

Philip I turned sideways: "Friend, can you be sure that in half a year, Nathan Group and the Norfolk family won't join the war driven by huge profits? To protect their spokesperson? And can you be sure that Conshuri won't use his political and business resources to win more allies? And more crucially, the divine throne—"

"In the past two hundred years, four movie superstars and pop singers have achieved divine status."

Philip I continued: "Thanks to the invention of television and various new media, these people, who have been despised as 'actors' since the Middle Ages, are gaining increasing influence. And now the voice of the entertainment and music industries in America is also growing. Nowadays, many people, including myself, predict that the next faith god is likely to appear in the sports world. Their fan base and attention are no less than those superstars. Unfortunately, none of the previous War Emperors seized the opportunity."

"Do you think this descendant of yours can ascend to godhood through personal combat in half a year?"

The man in the robe couldn't help but laugh: "If he can do it, then I will personally accomplish the feat of killing a god."

"The problem is, you can't even determine when you'll be able to deal with your archenemy."

A mocking smile appeared on Philip I's face: "So in five months, I'll still have to rely on my own strength to deal with that grandfather and grandson."

"Soon, very soon! Of course, I can't be sure."

The man in the robe rubbed his temples: "I must complain, your great-grandson is becoming more and more like you. I've confirmed that he's the one stirring things up. Before the decisive battle with you, he took the initiative to send his granddaughter to a mage. He already has a ruthlessness no less than yours. Okay, I'm now looking forward to Williams defeating that bastard. The night before last, I gave him a trump card, which should be enough to ensure his victory."

...

In the athletes' lounge of the stadium, Li Mochen waited about twenty minutes before hearing the broadcast announcing his and Williams' match.

And when he stepped out of the tunnel, the roaring sound around him made Li Mochen frown, feeling a sharp pain in his eardrums.

Los Angeles' Temple Stadium was slightly larger than Atlanta's Storm Stadium, with stands on all four sides capable of holding a total of ninety thousand spectators. If these people were just shouting normally, it would be one thing, but the problem was that the vast majority were magic-energy professionals of a certain level. As they roared, they also infused their source power into it. Tens of thousands of voices merged together, nearly shaking the entire stadium apart.

"This is the madness of high-level competitions! I remember decades ago, women and ordinary people dared not enter such venues; they would be directly knocked unconscious. It wasn't until new venues like Temple Stadium and Storm Stadium were built that improvements came. They can use magic arrays and magic earplugs to ensure they aren't harmed by the sound waves."

As Carl spoke, he looked toward several stands on the left. Li Mochen's fan club in Los Angeles was directly led by the Navigator Elite Agency. They had negotiated with the event organizers to have Li Mochen's fans all concentrated in these stands.

Then he noticed that Li Mochen's platinum color occupied nearly sixty-five percent of the venue. Although the majority were women, their momentum was immense. Everyone held mineral water bottles, knocking them in unison against the seats, shouting 'Victory'—a stark contrast to the one-sided support for Williams outside the venue.

Carl couldn't help but laugh: "Wow, that's the power of money."

Tonight, the ticket price for a regular seat had been driven up to over eight hundred gold shields, which ordinary people couldn't afford. Clearly, Li Mochen's supporters had overwhelmed their opponents in financial strength.

Li Mochen had already stepped onto the ring and looked at his opponent, who was also ascending the platform—Felton Williams!

Then his Titan's Eye saw the golden radiance on the other's body, invisible to ordinary people.

Li Mochen's increasingly profound magical knowledge allowed him to instantly discern the other's state. This was already a 'Chosen One,' also known as an 'Apostle,' a favored one of a deity!