Snake Spirit shook his head. "Wrong. The goal isn't to win, it's to entertain the nobles. If you just stand there like a tree, where's the fun in that? They won't get excited, and if they're not excited, they won't tip. No tips means no black market coins, no level-up, no mission completion. Got it?"
Tank frowned, half-understanding. "So, if I yank them hard enough to show off our strength, they'll think we're badass, right?"
Jing Shu tested the rope's pull. Her wrists were locked to it, but that didn't stop her strength from flowing through. The cuffs were meant to prevent people from running when they got dragged into the pit. They wanted the crowd to watch as people got fed to the snakes. Still, she could easily break free if things went south. Feeling at ease, she said,
"Alright, Tank, when I say pull, you pull. When I say let go, you let go. Let's make this match a little more fun."
"No problem," Tank agreed. Jing Shu was even stronger than him. Holding off six men alone was hard work, but with her joining in, they could do whatever they wanted.
The scene turned weird fast. Jing Shu's team didn't move an inch. Aside from Xiao Hei at the end of the rope who looked like he was putting in effort, everyone else seemed to be just standing there. On the other side, six massive men were straining their muscles, faces red, but the rope didn't budge. The crowd started to doubt reality—were these Asians really that weak, or was that towering giant just freakishly strong?
Then everything changed.
"Let go," Jing Shu said calmly.
Tank instantly released his strength. The sudden slack sent the opponents stumbling several meters forward. Xiao Hei, caught off guard, lost his balance and faceplanted, rolling several times before stopping. His scream, high and desperate like a pig being slaughtered, echoed across the arena, drawing thunderous laughter from the stands, even from the nobles above.
The other side didn't fare much better. They almost fell flat on their asses when the rope suddenly loosened, only their training saving them from total embarrassment.
"Come on, they're running out of strength! That big guy's the only real threat, the rest are useless! I'll give it to them though, that guy's pretty damn strong! Pull harder, brothers, drag them in!"
With Tank relaxing his strength, the other team soon managed to drag Jing Shu's group to the edge of the pit.
"Oh, is it over already?" Peggy took a sip of her wine, sounding bored. Still, she thought having two new sacrifices for her pets wouldn't be a bad way to pass the time. But before she could finish that thought, the Asians suddenly dug their heels in, halting right at the edge, and then, slowly, began pulling back.
The crowd gasped.
Still, their side didn't have enough people. The mercenaries on the other side spotted a small mistake and immediately countered, almost dragging Jing Shu's team into the pit again.
The commentator's voice boomed, full of excitement. "Oh my god, the Asians have survived another round of brutal attacks! They're holding their ground, but things don't look good. They're at a disadvantage, and I don't know how long they can last!
Oh my heavens, they're being pulled toward the pit again! The big guy's about to fall in! It's over! Game over! The black mamba's lunging at him! Wait—no! His teammates pulled him back! Incredible! I can't believe it, folks, this is insane! I don't even know why, but I'm starting to root for them!"
Tank swallowed hard. One of his shoes had flown off. "Holy shit, this is insane." He couldn't help glancing at Jing Shu—her strength was terrifying. Even when he was nearly dragged in, she'd pulled him back effortlessly.
Their opponents finally realized something was off. Sometimes, no matter how hard they pulled, the rope didn't move at all. But other times, the resistance felt softer, almost teasing. And at the most critical moments, when Tank should've fallen into the pit, he'd be yanked back as if by something—or someone—far stronger than him. But who? Aside from the crying coward at the end of the line, no one else looked remotely strong enough.
Minutes passed. The battle of endurance dragged on. The mercenaries were sweating buckets, muscles trembling, but the Asians refused to fall.
The black mambas in the pit slithered restlessly, snapping their jaws. They'd leapt up several times already, to the roaring delight of the crowd. Even Peggy and the nobles were hooked now, watching intently. What started as amusement had become genuine suspense.
Peggy lifted her mic. "To make this match more exciting," she announced, "I'll raise the stakes. For every person the winning team drags into the snake pit, they'll get an extra 500 black market coins! The winners already get 1,500, but if they pull in all six, I'll throw in another 3,000! And as for the losers—if any of you can climb out alive, I'll still give you 500!"
The audience went wild.
Now it wasn't just about winning. It was a fight to the death.
Jing Shu smiled faintly. "Showtime's over."
She leaned closer to Tank and whispered, "Roar a few times, beat your chest, then grit your teeth and pull them all into the pit, one by one. We're wrapping this up."
Tank felt awkward, but for the mission's sake, he did it. He started pounding his chest like a gorilla and let out a thunderous roar, eyes bloodshot, looking every bit the raging beast. Then he began pulling, slowly but steadily.
The crowd went crazy. People jumped to their feet, shouting "Nice!" and cheering him on. Even some nobles in the top seats rose, watching in rapture as Tank's raw power turned the tide. Inch by inch, the first opponent's feet slipped toward the pit.
Then—screams.
The man fell, and one of the black mambas immediately lunged, sinking its fangs into his leg. The other snake followed, wrapping around his waist. His body twisted violently, trying to escape, but the cuffs on his wrists kept him locked to the rope.
The arena filled with horrifying cries as blood sprayed into the pit. Moments later, all that was left were a pair of bloodied hands still cuffed to the rope.
The second man panicked instantly, thrashing to get free, but it was useless. Five against Tank meant nothing. Within seconds, he too was dragged into the pit. Even with his bulletproof vest, the snakes tore through his legs in an instant. The vest bought him a few seconds—nothing more.