Chapter 123: Divine Luck

"What?"

William Jacques stood before the match table, his face a complete blank. He stared fixedly at the horizontal line over the name of Li Mochen's opponent, then pinched the waist of a nearby classmate and twisted hard.

The latter immediately yelped and cursed, "SHIT! William, you bastard, why are you pinching me? Did I offend you, AH?"

"Just making sure I'm not dreaming!"

William shrugged innocently. "Now I'm sure—this shouldn't be a dream!"

"Bullshit! You should have pinched yourself. You haven't felt pain, so how can you be sure it's not a dream? Maybe I'm fake, just an illusion in your dream—"

Louise Linden, however, remained composed. After her defeat in a single sword strike a few days ago, she had roughly guessed the intentions of the Nathan Sports Group. So Li Mochen's astonishingly good 'luck' was not hard to understand—there must be a behind-the-scenes force at work.

But understanding aside, Louise still sent someone to inquire about the situation immediately.

Before long, a club coach accompanying the team returned with a complex expression and confirmed the news.

"That guy named Jett was mutually injured with his previous opponent—broken tibia. Originally, he planned to rest for a week to recover and fight in the next round, but things didn't go as expected. The doctor treating him made a mistake, and now he still can't stand up successfully—"

"So—"

William turned to look at Li Mochen, who was reporting at the podium but surrounded by a crowd of reporters.

"Our A-Mo, without doing anything, is already in the top 64, right? Wow, it feels like we've practically secured the winter team competition qualification."

Even the usually stern head coach, Rikal, shook his head slightly. He didn't know what to say about this situation.

It seemed they had to thank this guy for giving them a lifeline and a glimmer of hope to participate in the team competition.

Only Louise Linden had a bitter smile at the corner of her mouth. She guessed that Li Mochen's good luck would continue until the 32nd round, when he would meet the runner-up of the previous individual fighting competition.

As far as she knew, the Penguin Betting Company had already opened a betting pool for Li Mochen's final ranking, with his odds of winning currently at 28.3.

Louise had placed a bet of 350,000 gold shields on Li Mochen, planning to earn some pocket money.

Unfortunately, 10,000 gold shields was the maximum bet amount for Penguin Company. She had to borrow social security cards from many friends and servants to place 350,000; otherwise, even millions of gold shields would have been worth it.

At this moment, Li Mochen was being bombarded by a sea of camera flashes, making it hard for him to even open his eyes.

"Hello, lucky Andre, I'm a reporter from the Atlanta Morning News! Now that you've entered the top 64, is there anything you'd like to say to everyone?"

"Mr. Wiltonshtain, you've advanced three rounds in a row due to opponent withdrawals. How do you feel about that?"

"Mr. Wiltonshtain, I'm from American Fighter magazine. Could you spare some time for an interview soon?"

"I remember a week ago, you declared that your first two opponents were no match for you, and it was their luck not to face you. You also said you were determined to win this city MOS championship. Do you still think so now?"

The reporters' questions were mostly the same as last time, except there were more reporters this time, including some well-known major media outlets.

But then someone asked a slightly different question.

"Andre, I think you remember me. I'm from the Atlanta Sports Weekly. Did you see today's issue? My colleague broke a huge story—he learned from the Nathan Sports Group that you've signed a top-tier sponsorship contract with the company?"

"Some say you're a member of the Wiltonshtain family. We interviewed Mr. Cleo, the president of Wiltonshtain Transport Company. He said your mother has been disowned by the family. Is that true?"

Li Mochen remained calm. With the help of security, he walked to the entrance of the gymnasium before stopping to answer questions.

"I did sign a sponsorship agreement with the Nathan Sports Group three weeks ago. According to them, my sponsorship is indeed top-tier."

As he spoke, Li Mochen deliberately pointed to the sword bag behind him, which bore a clear Nathan logo.

"I've been a fan of the Nathan Sports Group since childhood. Their products are excellent. Especially the trial products they recently provided me—they're simply amazing. I'm looking forward to the battle armor they're customizing for me at the Nathan Sports Lab. If nothing goes wrong, I'll be wearing it in the round of 32."

The surrounding crowd erupted in uproar. William Jacques, who was nearby watching the excitement, opened his mouth wide and couldn't close it for a while.

What? Was this guy serious?

His first thought was that Li Mochen was bragging, but then he figured that no matter how thick-skinned Li Mochen was, he wouldn't lie in front of so many media outlets.

Besides, the Atlanta Sports Weekly was quite authoritative—this was news already published in the paper.

So, his good friend had indeed secured the highest-level sponsorship from the Nathan Sports Group? He wasn't joking before?

But William still couldn't understand—had the marketing department of Nathan Sports Group gone mad?

"As for the city MOS championship, my stance remains the same. Among this year's contestants, no one is a match for me."

Li Mochen's tone was unhurried, without any fluctuation, as if he were stating the most ordinary thing.

"As for the Wiltonshtain family you mentioned, what I want to say is that although my name on my driver's license and social security card is Andre Li Wiltonshtain, I prefer others to call me Li Mochen, or A-Mo—"

At this point, the reporters stirred again, but Li Mochen had lost interest in answering. After saying this, he left the Storm Gymnasium under everyone's gaze, directly got into the Norfolk Lotus 350 sports car that Qi Tai had driven for him, and headed for the Atlanta Light Cathedral.

Li Mochen was eagerly anticipating his upcoming journey into the dark world. Alyssa Targaryen had called yesterday to tell him that she had found the kind of giant beast he wanted—one that absolutely suited his taste.