Rise Of The Underworld King

Chapter 8

"Did anyone actually see what just happened there?" a young man in a gray suit asked in a trembling voice, staring through the metal wire of the cage.

"I did not see a single punch connected," an older businessman answered, his face pale as he adjusted his glasses. "Raymond charged forward, and then he was just flat on the floor."

"Did Raymond slip on the mat?" a third guest whispered to himself in disbelief. "How could an undefeated underground fighter fall down like a sack of potatoes in five seconds?"

"He did not slip," an experienced martial arts coach in the back murmured softly. "That young man moved his hands faster than human eyes could follow."

The quiet murmurs spread through the large sports hall. Nobody in the room could understand how a nameless young man in a plain black coat had brought down the most dangerous young master in the city without breaking a single sweat.

Ethan Sanders did not pay any attention to the shocked faces around him. He turned around calmly, unlatched the heavy steel door of the octagon cage, and pushed it open with a light push of his hand.

He stepped down on the floor of the hall, walking at a slow, unhurried pace toward Angela Miretti.

Angela stood completely frozen by the railing, her beautiful eyes wide with astonishment. She looked at Ethan as if she were seeing a mythical creature that had suddenly dropped out of the sky.

Ethan stopped right in front of her, a warm, gentle smile appearing on his handsome face. "Are you alright, Angela? You look like you just saw a ghost."

Angela blinked three times, her chest rising and falling quickly as she tried to process the reality in front of her. Then, all of a sudden, a bright, musical laugh broke out from her lips.

"A ghost?" Angela laughed, her eyes shining with delight and excitement. "Ethan, you are not a ghost at all. You are a complete monster."

"I only used a simple reflex," Ethan said with a modest shrug of his shoulders. "He was moving too fast and forgot to protect his own balance."

"You knocked out Raymond Hunter in five seconds, and you call that a simple reflex?" Angela asked, shaking her head with an amazed smile. "I thought I brought an ordinary man to be my shield tonight. I never imagined I had picked up a true hidden treasure."

Before Ethan could reply, a loud, panicked shout came from the inside of the fighting ring.

"Young Master Raymond! Wake up! Please open your eyes!" three muscular bodyguards shouted in unison as they rushed through the open door of the cage.

One of the bodyguards knelt beside Raymond, checking his pulse and tapping his cheeks gently. "His heart is beating normally, but his neck is completely stiff! Bring some cold water right now!"

Another bodyguard splashed a cup of cold water directly over Raymond’s face.

Raymond gasped loudly for air, his eyes flying open in panic. He rolled over on his hands and knees, shaking his wet head violently.

"What happened?" Raymond groaned, rubbing the right side of his neck. "Where is that little bastard?"

"You... you fell down, Young Master Raymond," his chief bodyguard whispered nervously, helping Raymond stand up on his shaky legs. "The match is over."

"Fell down?" Raymond’s face turned red with fury and humiliation.

He pushed his bodyguards away with a rough shove and stumbled out of the cage, glaring at Ethan with hateful, cold eyes.

"You cheated!" Raymond roared, pointing a trembling finger at Ethan’s face. "You used some kind of cheap, dirty trick. You had a hidden needle or poison in your sleeve. A broke beggar like you could never knock me down in a fair fight!"

The wealthy guests in the hall looked at Raymond, but none of them agreed with his words. Everyone had seen that Ethan’s hands were completely bare when he entered the ring.

Angela stepped forward, placing herself beside Ethan, her arms crossed over her chest with a cold, mocking sneer on her face.

"Raymond Hunter, have you no shame left at all?" Angela asked, a gentle smile appearing at the corner of her lips. "Two hundred people watched you charge at Ethan with everything you had. You lost because you were too weak, not because anyone cheated."

"Angela, you shut your mouth!" Raymond shouted, his chest heaving with rage. "You do not know what kind of dirty background this guy has!"

"I know that he stood his ground while you ended up taking a nap on the floor," Angela said mercilessly. "A real man accepts his defeat with dignity. Only a pathetic coward makes ridiculous excuses after losing in five seconds."

"You dare to call me a coward?" Raymond yelled, stepping forward aggressively, but his bodyguards quickly held his arms to prevent him from doing something foolish.

"Look around you, Raymond," Angela said, gesturing toward the surrounding crowd with a cold smile. "Nobody believes your lies. The more you scream, the more like a clown you look."

Raymond turned his head and looked at the faces of the business directors and young heirs around him.

People were covering their mouths, whispering behind their hands, and looking at him with ridicule and mockery. The fierce, terrifying reputation that Raymond had built over five years in the underground fighting rings was completely destroyed in a single evening.

"You will pay for this, Ethan Sanders," Raymond hissed through his clenched teeth, his voice shaking with venomous hatred. "My Hunter family controls the entire western district. I will find out where you live, and I will make sure you leave this city in a wooden box!"

"I will be waiting," Ethan replied calmly, sounding completely untroubled by the threat.

"Let us go!" Raymond barked at his men, unable to bear the humiliating stares of the crowd for another second. He turned around roughly and marched toward the exit, his bodyguards following closely behind him.

As Raymond disappeared through the doors, Emily rushed over to Angela, her eyes wide with shock.

"Angela... oh my god," Emily stammered, clutching Angela’s arm tightly. "Where on earth did you find this man? That was Raymond Hunter! He has put champions into the hospital, and Ethan dropped him with one move!"

"I told you earlier, Emily," Angela smiled proudly, looking at Ethan with genuine admiration in her eyes. "He is my boyfriend. A girl does not give away all her secrets so easily."

"Are you serious?" Emily asked, turning her head to look at Ethan with a completely different expression. "Who are you really, Ethan? Which martial arts master taught you to fight like that?"

"I only learned some basic self-defense from an old friend when I was younger," Ethan answered. "There is nothing special about it."

"Nothing special?" Emily shook her head in disbelief. "If that is basic self-defense, then what are professional fighters doing with their lives?"

Despite the excitement of Ethan's victory, the atmosphere in the sports pavilion had become distinctly awkward.

The guests were still whispering among themselves, and several older businessmen who were close allies of the Hunter family were looking at Ethan with cautious, wary expressions.

Angela noticed the strange tension in the room and turned to Ethan. "The vibe here is completely ruined. Would you like to leave now?"

"Yes," Ethan nodded. "I have stayed long enough to repay my favor. It is time for me to go."

"Let me take you home," Angela said, walking with Ethan toward the main lobby of the hotel. "My driver is already waiting at the front entrance."

"That will not be necessary," Ethan said politely as they pushed through the glass doors into the night. "You have your own guests to attend to, and I need to find a place to rest for the night."

Angela paused on the red carpet, looking at him with concern. "Where are you going to stay, Ethan? You told me you just divorced your wife today. Do you have an apartment in the city?"

"I will find a hotel nearby," Ethan replied with a faint smile. "You do not need to worry about me."

"At least let me book a luxury suite for you at one of our family's private properties," Angela insisted, pulling out her phone. "You helped me get rid of Raymond tonight. The least I can do is give you the best room in town."

"Thank you for the offer, Angela, but I prefer to handle my own lodging," Ethan said gently, declining her offer."A man does not lean on others for simple daily needs."

Angela looked into his eyes and knew that pushing him further would only be disrespectful to his pride. She smiled softly and tucked her phone back into her purse.

"Alright, Mr. Sanders," Angela said. "I will respect your decision. But take this."

She reached into her small purse, pulled out a sleek, gold-embossed personal contact card, and placed it directly into Ethan’s hand.

"This is my private personal number," Angela said, looking up into his eyes with gratitude. "It connects directly to me, not my assistant. If the Hunter family tries to cause you any trouble, or if you ever need anything in this city, call me immediately. I will come to your aid no matter what time it is."

"I will keep that in mind," Ethan said, sliding the gold card into his coat pocket. "Take care of yourself, Angela."

"You too, Ethan," she whispered with a radiant smile.

Ethan turned around, walked down the stone steps to the main street, and raised his hand toward a passing yellow taxi.

The cab pulled over to the curb, Ethan opened the rear door and slid on the worn fabric seat.

"Where to, friend?" the middle-aged cab driver asked, looking into the rearview mirror as he shifted the car into gear.

"Take me to the Vertice Hotel downtown," Ethan said calmly, leaning back against the seat.

The driver stepped on the brakes slightly in surprise, turning his head around to stare at Ethan’s plain black coat and simple shoes.

"The Vertice Hotel?" the driver asked, his voice filled with shock. "Are you sure you said the Vertice Hotel, young man?"

"Yes," Ethan nodded. "Is there an issue with that location?"

"No, no issue at all," the driver chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped on the gas pedal again. "It is just that the Vertice Hotel is the only seven-star luxury hotel in our entire province. A single night in their cheapest standard room costs at least three thousand dollars. Only foreign princes, billionaire tech founders, and top government ministers stay there."

"I am aware of their pricing," Ethan replied in a flat, even tone, looking out the window at the passing city lights.

"Well, if you say so," the driver muttered to himself, still skeptical. "Just make sure you have enough cash for the fare, son. Those seven-star doormen do not like it when people make a scene in their driveway."

Ethan remained quiet.

The Vertice Hotel was not just a famous luxury hotel to Ethan. It was one of the many premier hospitality assets secretly owned and operated under the global framework of his Miracle Group.

Whenever Ethan traveled across different continents, the presidential suites on the top floor of every Vertice Hotel were permanently locked and reserved exclusively for the Sovereign of the Palace of the Sovereigns.

Twenty minutes later, the yellow cab pulled into the grand, circular driveway of the Vertice Hotel.

The building rose over sixty stories into the sky, its golden glass facade shining like a giant pillar of light in the center of the city. Fountains of crystal-clear water danced along the front entrance, illuminated by soft blue underwater spotlights.

Ethan paid the taxi driver the exact fare in cash, stepped out of the cab, and walked toward the towering revolving glass doors.

The doorman standing by the entrance glanced at Ethan’s plain coat, frowned slightly, and did not even bother to greet him or reach for the door. Ethan did not care about the lack of service; he pushed through the door and entered the vast, opulent lobby.

The lobby of the Vertice Hotel was decorated with imported Italian floors, massive crystal chandeliers that looked like waterfalls of light, and giant modern art sculptures made of solid bronze.

Several wealthy guests in tailored designer suits were sitting on plush velvet sofas, sipping expensive vintage champagne while quietly discussing international trade deals.

Ethan walked across the shiny marble floor, heading straight for the main reception desk where a young female receptionist in a crisp uniform was sitting behind a long, black granite counter.

The receptionist, wearing heavy makeup and gold earrings, was busy filing her polished red fingernails with a small silver file.

Ethan stopped in front of the counter, standing patiently for a few seconds. "Good evening. I would like to check in for a room tonight."

The receptionist did not even look up from her nails. She continued to slide the silver file back and forth, blowing away a tiny speck of dust with an annoyed puff of air.

"We are completely fully booked tonight," the receptionist said in a cold voice. "You can try the two-star motel three blocks down the street."

Ethan’s eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Are you sure there are no rooms available? I know for a fact that the Vertice Hotel always keeps several private suites permanently reserved on the top floor for important guests."

Hearing those words, the receptionist finally stopped filing her nails. She raised her head, her sharp, heavily painted eyes scanning Ethan from head to toe with contempt.

She looked at his unbranded black coat, his plain cotton trousers, and his simple black shoes. There was not a single luxury watch on his wrist, and not a single designer logo on his clothing.

"Listen to me, mister," the receptionist sneered, leaning forward on the granite desk with an arrogant look. "Those top-floor suites are the Sovereign Presidential Suites. They are permanently reserved for international leaders, world-class business oligarchs, and members of the supreme royal families."

"I am aware of that," Ethan replied calmly.

"Are you aware of that?" she mocked with a shrill laugh. "Then what makes you think a broke nobody like you has the right to even ask about them? Do you have any idea how much one night in those suites costs? Fifty thousand dollars! You couldn't afford a single square inch of the carpet up there even if you worked for ten entire lifetimes!"

"I do not need to work ten lifetimes to pay for a room in this hotel," Ethan said. "Check the internal registry for the top-floor master suite."

"I don't need to check anything for a beggar who walked in off the street," the receptionist snapped, waving her hand in disgust. "Stop wasting my time and get out of our lobby before I call our private security team to drag you out by your collar."

Ethan breathed heavily. He gently reached into his inner coat pocket, pulled out a slender, black card, and placed it gently on the granite counter.

The card was made of pure titanium alloy, with no bank numbers or plastic logos on its surface. In the center of the card, a tiny, exquisite crest of the Palace of the Sovereigns was engraved, along with a unique master cryptographic chip.

This was the Sovereign Supreme Card of the Miracle Group—a card that held unlimited, unrestricted financial authority over every single asset, bank account, and property owned by the conglomerate across the entire world.

"Use this card to open the top-floor suite immediately," Ethan said in a calm, authoritative voice.

The receptionist looked down at the black metal card sitting on the counter. She had worked at the front desk for only two months, and she was used to seeing colorful gold cards, platinum credit cards, and shiny luxury bank logos from local rich men.

She had never seen a plain, black card without a famous bank name stamped across the front.

To her ignorant eyes, this card looked like a cheap, useless toy that someone had ordered from an online novelty shop for five dollars.

"What on earth is this piece of junk?" the receptionist laughed loudly, picking up the black card with two fingers as if it were covered in grease. "A black piece of scrap metal with no bank name on it? Are you trying to pay for a seven-star presidential suite with a fake toy card?"

"That card has full authorization to unlock the highest level of service in this building," Ethan said coldly. "Swipe it through your master terminal, and you will see the system response."

"Swipe it?" the receptionist scoffed, her face twisting into an ugly, hateful sneer. "Do you think I am an idiot like you? Our terminals are worth thousands of dollars. If your cheap piece of fake metal scratches our machine, you won't be able to pay for the repairs in your entire miserable life!"

Before Ethan could say another word, the receptionist sneered with disgust, pulled her arm back, and hurled the Sovereign Supreme Card straight across the counter.

The black card flew through the air and hit the hard floor with a sharp, loud clatter, sliding several feet across the shiny surface before stopping near the feet of a passing guest.

"Pick up your cheap piece of trash and get out of here, you pathetic beggar!" the receptionist shouted at the top of her voice, pointing her finger at the hotel's entrance with malice. "The Vertice Hotel is a place for the world's greatest elites, not a shelter for homeless clowns who play with fake cards!”