On the way to the underground boxing arena.
Chris thought of his first breakthrough for his presidential campaign: using the miracle within himself as a catalyst to establish a force he could control.
However, Chris currently couldn't decide on the specific method, so he decided to just follow Hanger to watch the boxing match and relax for a bit first.
The two walked through a dim hallway, turned a corner, and saw a large door. Even through the door, Chris could hear the passionate roars.
This time, there were people standing guard, but the security guards at the door seemed to recognize Hanger, nodded, and opened the door directly to let the two in.
"These are the Ron brothers. They are both security guards and boxers here. However, they don't need to fight every day; they only go up for a couple of exhibition matches when there aren't enough boxers."
Chris looked behind the door and thought to himself, this place is really shabby, they even need their own thugs to fill in.
At this moment, Hanger looked at the octagonal cage ring, then at the electronic screen hanging high, and said with a hint of regret, "The match has already started, and betting has stopped. I was still hoping to win back the money I lost earlier."
Chris looked down at the ring and saw that the two people in the arena were already panting, their punches and kicks gradually weakening. It was clear they had been fighting for some time.
Like now, even someone who doesn't understand boxing can tell who has a higher chance of winning.
So the bookmakers must have closed betting early.
"Then just wait for the next match! Where can I see the upcoming boxers? I'm planning to get in on it too."
Chris casually offered a suggestion, then looked around the octagonal cage below, but didn't see anyone who looked like a boxer.
This made it impossible for him to analyze the boxers' strength in advance.
Unexpectedly, Hanger heard Chris's words and said with a slight embarrassment, "There are no more. This is the last boxing match for today. The next boxing match will be next Friday at 8 PM."
"Huh?"
Chris turned back in surprise, wanting to hear Hanger's explanation.
"Uh... boss. Fighting in underground boxing is very easy to get injured, so it's hard to gather enough boxers. Basically, only ten to twenty boxers can get on stage once a week.
Therefore, these boxing matches can only be held once a week, usually on Friday and Saturday nights. They generally start at 8 PM, with one match every two hours, lasting until 8 AM, for a total of six matches.
And if there aren't enough boxers, then thugs like the Ron brothers I just mentioned need to go on stage. But these are only considered exhibition matches and don't have betting."
After listening to Hanger's explanation, Chris looked at the time on the screen, which was exactly 7:20.
This meant that the boxing match had already started an hour and twenty minutes ago, so it was no wonder Hanger said that betting had stopped a long time ago.
However, Chris also knew that these two people couldn't have been fighting for more than an hour; ordinary people simply don't have that kind of stamina, not even for a fixed match.
Chris guessed that betting takes time, and there can be unexpected situations between boxers, which also requires reserving time.
Bit by bit, it would take at least an hour or so of stalling before the matches could actually begin.
And looking at the slow, soft punches of the two people in the arena, Chris suddenly felt bored and decided to leave.
"Since I can't place a bet, I'll leave first. Let me know when there's another boxing match next week."
"Hey! Boss?"
Just as Hanger finished hearing what Chris said, he turned his head and saw that Chris had already left the venue.
He thought that given Chris's strength, it was understandable that he wouldn't be interested in these fights.
After all, with a bench press of 500 kilograms, even if he didn't know any moves, he could probably take down a world boxing champion just by flailing his arms, right?
While Hanger was lamenting the disparities between humans, Chris was already running again.
When he ran before, he felt that his speed could still improve, and now, on his way home, he could just test it out.
As Chris finished his warm-up, his speed reached its current limit.
But Chris knew this was because his running posture was incorrect, hindering his further improvement. As Chris gradually corrected his running posture, his previously stagnant speed began to increase again.
However, the distance was only ten kilometers, so before Chris could correct his running posture to its optimal state, he arrived at his doorstep.
Seeing that he was already home, Chris gave up on further pondering the issue of running posture and simply turned to go home.
Anyway, he didn't need to participate in a sports competition, and further refining his running posture wouldn't increase his speed much, so there was no need to exert himself so much.
Chris now only wanted Dumpling to quickly build the machine and send him to a world where his malnutrition problem could be solved. Then he could continue to improve by eating and drinking.
Why bother using his brain!
Stepping through the door, he was greeted by an eye-watering scene.
"Hey, Pete! Put on some clothes quickly, don't make me fix you!"
More than a month had passed since Chris was discharged from the hospital, and after such a long time, Pete had long since worn out his guilt towards Chris.
He had reverted to his original nature, beginning to display his beastly essence in front of Chris.
"Hic... Hic~" Pete let out a burp, looked at Chris as if waking from a dream, and greeted with a smile, "Hi, Chris! You look so strong! Just like Old Joe with both legs intact."
"Shit!"
Seeing that Pete was completely sober, Chris gave up on the idea of persuading him, cursed, and rushed forward.
"Oh my god! Oh my god! Why, why! Stop, stop!"
When Chris took the belt Pete had thrown on the sofa and lightly whipped Pete with it, Pete's pig-like screams echoed through the Griffin Family's house.
Although he was angry at Pete's beastly behavior, this fat man was ultimately Chris's biological father.
So killing him was out of the question; he could only be lightly disciplined.
It was just that Chris's current strength was superhuman; what he considered a gentle movement felt like a lightning strike to Pete, directly waking the fat man up.
He didn't even bother to put on clothes, running directly out of the house and towards Old Joe's house next door.
He kept shouting as he ran, "Joe, save me, Chris is going to kill me!"
Just as Chris was about to follow to drag Pete, this embarrassing beast, back, Dumpling's shout came from upstairs.
"Chris, come up quickly! I succeeded, the machine is built!"
Hearing Dumpling's shout, Chris looked at Pete, who had been taken into Old Joe's house, and temporarily gave up on continuing to deal with the fat man.
Chris quickly went upstairs, directly entering Dumpling's secret base, and looked up to see a strange machine.
It looked like a wheelchair with a ring around it, and the chair also had a helmet, looking similar to Professor X's Cerebro.
Chris went up and touched it, asking curiously, "This thing can help me enter a world where I can solve my problems?"
"Bingo!" Dumpling explained excitedly, "The ability of this machine is to retrieve the world coordinates recorded when you travel through space and time, and then find the most suitable world to solve your physical problems.
To put it simply, this thing is like an ability amplifier. Its main function is to amplify your own abilities and then let your abilities help you solve problems."
After listening to Dumpling's explanation, Chris was even more convinced that the inspiration for this thing was pilfered by Dumpling from Professor X.
"Alright! So I just sit on it?"
But it didn't matter anymore; Professor X wouldn't possibly ask Dumpling for royalties anyway. He directly plopped down on it and waited for Dumpling to operate it.
Dumpling nodded, then handed Chris a metal rod, "That's right! But you take this thing."
Chris looked at the high-tech metal rod in his hand and asked curiously, "What is this?"
"A compressed single-molecule spear, for your self-defense."
Dumpling taught Chris how to use it hand-in-hand, then explained, "Although I can ensure that I won't send you into too outrageous a world, just in case, it's safer to have a weapon.
Didn't you say before that if the Ogre hadn't carelessly given you a weapon, you might have just died? So this time, let's be safe."
For Dumpling's thoughtful consideration, Chris, with tears in his eyes but no actual tears, cupped his fists and said, "Thanks, brother!"
He couldn't help it; he simply couldn't learn the advanced skill of crying on command, so he could only put on a show.
Fortunately, Dumpling didn't mind. He took a step back, activated the machine, and then said with a smile, "Then I wish you good luck!"
The next moment, as the machine activated Chris's talent, the figure on the chair once again left this world.
And as Chris left, this world became equivalent to a static state for him until he returned again.
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