No one expected such a scene to happen. After a few seconds of silence, the crowd erupted into frenzied shouts.
The venue descended into chaos, with everyone rushing toward the boxing ring in a frantic scramble.
Because when the chandelier fell just now—it hit soone!
Who exactly it hit would determine the outco of this bet!
The referee stood pale-faced in the boxing ring, unable to recover from his shock for a long while, as the chandelier had missed him by just a fraction. His blank gaze was fixed on the boxer in the blue corner who had been hit, now lying covered in blood, sprawled on the ground. Blood had splattered onto the referee’s pant legs.
The boxer in the red corner, lying nearby, had luckily avoided being struck by the falling chandelier.
The injured boxer was gravely hurt. At this point, there was no reason to continue the match.
Soon, paradics stord the ring, lifting the injured boxer onto a stretcher and beginning ergency treatnt.
In the VIP room, Miyata turned pale as he watched the scene unfold before him.
A match that was so close to victory—only for an accident like this to happen!
He lifted his gaze to the spot where the crystal chandelier had been hanging overhead. His grim eyes surged with disbelief. In Japanese, he beckoned to the black-clad n stationed at the door: "Imdiately gather people to investigate what’s going on!"
The black-clad n took their orders and left.
Mo Qian observed Miyata’s enraged deanor, the curve of his lips growing icier by the mont. He picked up the teacup he had yet to touch, took a sip, and then remarked indifferently, "You’ve lost."
Miyata could not possibly accept it and retorted angrily, "This match doesn’t count. We will thoroughly investigate whether this was an accident or deliberate!"
Mo Qian’s brows lifted slightly, his tone colder than frost: "I never imagined that the mighty Yamamoto Group would resort to breaking their word. Since you’ve chosen to violate your promise, I see no point in continuing this bet."
Mo Qian set down his teacup and strode toward the exit with his long legs.
The black-clad n at the door imdiately stepped forward to block his path.
Mo Qian turned back to look at Miyata. "You’ve lost but refuse to admit it, and now you won’t let leave. What kind of rationale is this?"
"Mr. Gu, I’ve already said this match doesn’t count. Let’s bet again!" Miyata said furiously.
"Apologies, but I won’t wager with a murderer."
Mo Qian’s response carried an unmistakable finality. Then, he pulled a phone from his pocket, dialed a number, and elegantly held it to his ear. His deep, magnetic voice flowed like a chilling spring: "Mr. Yamamoto, the result is already clear, yet your n are trying to renege on the deal and won’t let leave. Is this how Mr. Yamamoto earned his reputation in Tokyo—by reneging on deals?"
On the other end of the call, Yamamoto Yu said sothing to Mo Qian that was not audible. Mo Qian extended the phone toward Miyata with a coldly lifted brow.
Miyata dared not refuse Yamamoto Yu’s call and hurriedly took the phone, bowing his head respectfully to answer.
"Let him go." Yamamoto Yu’s words made Miyata’s face turn unsightly.
"But..." Miyata tried to argue.
"Report everything about the underground boxing incident to after you return. Let him leave for now!" Yamamoto Yu’s tone grew impatient.
"Understood."
Miyata returned the phone to Mo Qian, glaring at him with intense resentnt before instructing the black-clad n to step aside.
Without hesitation, Mo Qian walked out of the VIP room.
Miyata was trembling with rage. He grabbed the teacup Mo Qian had just drunk from and furiously smashed it onto the ground, cursing in Japanese: "Bakayarou!"
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