My Beauty Variety: Starting from Banshee Town

Next to the fighting arena, there was a black sofa chair, with several armed guards standing next to it.

Sitting on the sofa chair was a middle-aged white man, wearing a wrinkled white suit, with messy long hair, holding a delicate cane in his hand.

After the winner left the arena, he stood up holding on to his cane and walked to the middle of the fighting arena.

He first looked towards the second floor, which was also crowded with people. The thin iron railings were crumbling. Everyone's face was flushed and they were waving banknotes crazily in their hands.

The man in the white suit slapped his cane hard and shouted loudly:

"Ladies and gentlemen, next is the finale of the evening."

A burly black man walked out from the side. He was only wearing boxers and had scars all over his body. Ordinary people would be timid when they saw him.

"Tonight's defender is from..." The white suit waved his cane and pointed at the strong black man: "Only God knows where he comes from."

The scene burst into laughter, and at the same time, some people shouted the title of Defender.

"The heavyweight is." White Suit spread his hands and tilted his head and said, "No one seems to care about this."

"Hahaha."

The laughter became even louder and whistles sounded.

"All in all, he is our invincible champion."

The man in the white suit extended his words and roared loudly:

"Shou Lei: The Slaughterer."

As soon as the words fell, the atmosphere exploded. Most of the people cheered, veins popped up on their necks, and shouted the name of the massacre loudly.

The strong black man spread his hands with satisfaction and raised them high, enjoying this moment that belonged to him.

"Next."

The man in the white suit waited until the noise calmed down a bit and smoothed his blond hair: "Who has the courage to challenge the massacre?"

Under the gaze of everyone, the white suit shouted loudly:

"He's a beast."

"He just made a stunning debut here not long ago. He has won ten out of ten matches so far. No opponent can survive in his hands."

"He is, the scary Indian."

"Tch. Dun..."

The iron door of the small room next to it was opened, and an Indian with long braids stooped out of the darkness. He was barefoot and wearing only a pair of denim trousers.

The massacrer was already tall enough, but in front of this Indian, he suddenly shrunk.

The person coming was none other than Cheton Littlestone, who was rescued by the Red Bones Gang when Ethan was escorting him last time. He had a few more scars on his body than before.

Cheton's overall temperament is also more ferocious. As the host said, he now looks like a ferocious beast, thirsting for blood all the time.

When Cheton walked into the playing field, the cheers that sounded for him were no less than those of the Slaughterer.

Over this period of time, Cheton's bloody methods have left a deep impression on viewers and brought him many fans.

The Slaughterer looked at Cheton, who was slightly larger than him, and scratched his neck with his thumb in disdain, making a provocative gesture.

Cheton didn't even bat an eyelid and moved his body on his own.

"Okay, tonight's finale is between Slaughterer and Cheton, and then we'll decide how the game will be played."

The white suit took out a big dice from his pocket, with various patterns painted on it instead of numbers.

He threw the dice into the sky and it fell to the ground, rolling rapidly.

Everyone held their breath, the dice stopped turning, and the top pattern was two machetes.

The cheers erupted like a volcano, and it was obvious that the audience preferred to see bloodshed rather than fists and fists.

"The format of the game has been decided. It's a machete duel. Next is the betting time. The game will start in two minutes."

The man in the white suit gave a lame gentlemanly salute and left the playing field waving his cane.

Since it was a cold weapon duel, the spectators at the competition venue also took a few steps back to leave more space than before.

The competition venue is a concrete floor surrounded by spectators, without any protective facilities. It is not unheard of for contestants to kill the spectators before.

Although the contestant was shot dead on the spot, no one was willing to take their own lives as a joke.

The betting time soon ended, and Cheton took hold of the machete handed to him by the tournament organizer.

The copper bell rang, and he walked toward the strong black man with steps that he didn't recognize.

Different from the usual cold weapon competitions, Cheton did not test carefully at all, and directly summoned all his strength to attack the massacre.

This unusual attack caught the massacre off guard.

Facing the sword lights one after another, he was exhausted.

Cheton's chops became more and more urgent, and the sword lights seemed to be connected together.

"boom."

The massacrer's machete was chopped off by Cheton and flew out of his hand, followed by a white streak.

The audience was stunned and saw a red line drawn diagonally on the massacrer's body.

Cheton held the handle of the knife tightly, swinging his arm and slashing hard.

The head of the massacre flew up with the light of the sword, blood mist sprayed out several meters high, and the organs also fell from the slashed belly.

Cheton opened his arms, released his palms, and dropped the machete.

He closed his eyes and felt the warm blood mist pouring on him, as if the other person's soul merged with his, and his ears listened with pleasure to the deafening cheers.

It was a cheer for the victor, and he couldn't get enough of it no matter how many times he heard it.

Only in this way can he forget the humiliation of being defeated by that small town policeman.

The game lasted less than a minute when one of the parties was beheaded, and the winner enjoyed a blood bath like a demon.

The cold weapon competition is so clean and tidy. There is no fighting for dozens or hundreds of rounds, and one careless move can cause the hand to fall.

Amid wild cheers from all the spectators, Cheton received his winnings and exited safely.

After the blood cooled down, it became sticky easily. He was about to go back to the place specially prepared for the contestants to take a shower. At this time, he saw a few familiar faces in the crowd next to him.

Cheton walked over excitedly, and the crowd on the side avoided him when they saw his ghost-like appearance.

Only a few Indians with yellow skin and black hair remained unmoved.

One of them grinned widely and hugged Cheton regardless of the blood on his body.

Cheton rubbed the hair of the man in his arms and asked in a deep voice:

"Tommy, what brings you here?"

His voice was very recognizable, sounding like muffled thunder.

The man being hugged by Cheton was none other than his brother, Tommy Littlestone.

The two brothers were orphans and grew up together. Only when he looked at Tommy did Cheton's eyes show some warmth.

"Shet, Cheton, you are getting better and better."

When several people behind Tommy saw Cheton like this, they couldn't help but feel a little scared, and they quickly started complimenting him.

Only Tommy was different. He pushed Cheton's hand away hard and said, "Don't do this to my hair. I've grown up."

Che smiled vaguely and released his thick palm:

"Tell me, what are you doing here?"

"Luncid is dead." Tommy Littlestone looked at his brother and said seriously.

"That Roncid?"

Cheton's face turned gloomy, and his whole body exuded an astonishing aura.