Chapter 482: Payton

In the presidential suite of the Los Angeles Hilton Grand Hotel, Li Mochen watched the television in the living room, which was broadcasting the program "Today's Ring Focus."

"—It seems you've reached a consensus. Tonight will be a battle between two monsters. The next question is, which of the two is stronger?"

"Without a doubt, Felton Williams! He is not only older but also an outlaw. His combat skills are quite impressive, at the level of 13S, a master of this grade."

"I also think it's Williams. Let me reveal that I've seen some training footage of Williams. I can't go into specifics, but his strength has already surpassed high school, even college level, and he can hold his own in professional leagues."

"Williams! Come on, folks, it's not two hundred years ago anymore. True, noble families have powerful bloodlines, more reasonable and scientific cultivation methods, and endless money. But combat talent cannot be cultivated that way. I recall from the 1960s to the 1980s, dozens of upper-class individuals tried their hand at professional fighting, including two from the highest families, and every single one of them got their heads bashed in."

"I think it's Lucky Andre! Haven't you all noticed his strength? Since the state league, he has never used power beyond a ninth-level professional, and he always finishes in exactly 100 rounds! He clearly has plenty in reserve. As a member of a top noble family, I doubt anyone thinks his true strength is only that of a ninth-level magic professional. I look forward to seeing him go all out—"

"Wow, Mr. Clay, you are the only guest here who thinks Andre will win. So how many rounds do you think Andre will take to win? Also exactly one hundred rounds?"

The bald middle-aged man on the television hesitated slightly: "About fifty rounds? The process shouldn't be too difficult."

"That is a bit more conservative compared to the guess of retired battle emperor Desaro Punk, a two-time NMOSA gold belt winner. But His Majesty the Battle Emperor believes Andre will win in no more than ten rounds—"

At this point, the host paused: "Ladies and gentlemen, the results of our telephone survey are in. Among the two hundred people we randomly selected, thirty-three percent think Felton Williams will lose, sixty-two percent think he will win, and the remaining five percent think it will be a draw. Fifty-six percent hope Williams wins, forty-two percent are on Lucky Andre's side, and the rest have no preference, just hoping for an exciting match."

"Let's hear their thoughts on this match after the survey. This is Mr. Derrick from Georgia, who says he really wants to see Andre get his head bashed in by Williams."

"And Mr. Richard from North Carolina, who says he hates people like Andre, who rely on their family background and wealth to bully ordinary people in the ring."

"And Mr. Canel from New Tennessee, who says he supports Andre. He knows about him. Although born into a noble family, Andre Lee Wiltonstein indeed achieved his current status and position through his own efforts. He is a mixed-race person, not well-liked in noble circles, and it hasn't been easy for him to get where he is."

"Next is Ms. Claudia from California, who says go Prince, she really likes Andre and also likes the manga 'Rage Battle King.'"

"Still from California, Ms. Satia says wait and see, Andre, Williams will sweep you away. California high school fighting is the strongest in the nation. Williams will be invincible—"

In front of the television, Dwight Payton and his assistant Carl watched with great interest until Li Mochen came down from the second floor while on the phone.

"It's done, is it? Good, then rest and stand by, recover your condition, and act after my match is over. Tell Dale, I don't want to use the right of two mandatory missions a year now. This time, it's best to be in the form of employment. I'll give them 150 million gold shields! She heard that and already quoted 600 million? Only responsible for sealing the space, not participating in combat? No! No!! I'll give her at most 250 million. If it really doesn't work, forget it. OK, 450 million, deal!"

Li Mochen hung up the phone and looked at the people in the living room. Then he laughed and embraced Dwight Payton with a cheek kiss: "I didn't expect you to come in person."

"This fight is crucial, even more crucial than the upcoming Green Adams. So three months ago, I booked a box at the Freedom Temple Arena."

Dwight Payton also smiled: "My opponent is also paying close attention to this fight. So what are you planning now, A-Mo? That's all I care about right now."

"As you wish! I will destroy him, give him the most devastating defeat."

Li Mochen's eyes flickered, his expression cold.

He had hesitated over Dwight's proposal, but since this man had contacted Philip I, in the eyes of the body's original owner, he was unforgivable.

Dwight's lips curled slightly: "I look forward to it."

...

As soon as Li Mochen's private car left the hotel, it was surrounded by crowds holding signs. All the way to the Freedom Temple Arena, both sides were packed with people.

Carl looked out through the car window and saw that the people outside were basically divided into two groups. One side was smaller, mostly women, and dressed in platinum gold—very conspicuous. Thanks to the joint promotion by the Nathan Group and Catilo Apparel, this color was considered the color of 'Lucky Prince' Andre. But their momentum was suppressed by the more狂热 crowds around them.

Those people wore various clothes, shouted all kinds of insults, and the signs they held made Carl frown.

Signs like 'You're no longer lucky, Andre,' 'I don't understand how a mixed-race Asian can be called a prince,' 'Williams will win' were okay.

But signs like 'Go die, bastard,' 'Go back to Georgia and eat shit,' 'Son of a yellow-skinned pig'—full of strong insult and racial discrimination—were everywhere.

"California has an incredible passion for all kinds of fighting events. And as one of the two newly rising fighting supernovas on the West Coast, Felton Williams has a huge fan base in Los Angeles."

Li Mochen's agent, Edward Jeffries, was also in the car. He frowned: "But most of them are quite cultured, and this is mostly a left-leaning area. Someone is inciting."

"No need to worry, Mr. Jeffries."

Dwight Payton laughed: "A-Mo will eventually conquer them—most of them, anyway. As for the racists, if handled well, they can also win sympathy for our Prince."

At that moment, his eyes narrowed. He saw another bus entering the internal driveway of the Temple Arena from another entrance. He saw his competitor, Western Region CEO Loren Leonard, who was also looking at him through the car window. When their eyes met, sparks seemed to fly in the air between them.