Chapter 46: The Dragon Transformation Pool

The area around Dragon Transformation Pool is a famous bar street in Changsha, notorious as a money pit where people from all walks of life mingle. Even now, it's bustling with crowds, but the revelers have changed—from those seeking drinks to those hungering for flesh.

A few underworld bosses, armed and well-connected, managed to preserve the largest bar in this post-apocalyptic world, commanding over a hundred subordinates.

Ma Tianxiong was once an obscure thug. With a handful of brothers who had risked their lives together and his own ferocity in battle, he killed several powerful figures, spent a few years in prison, and emerged to make a name for himself in Star City. Those in the underworld now call him Little Ma.

Inside the bar, Little Ma reclined in an ornate chair. Beside him, two scantily clad, shivering young women knelt on the floor, nervously feeding peeled sunflower seeds and peanuts to him as he rested with his eyes closed.

“Get lost! Trying to freeze me to death?” Little Ma’s fierce gaze flashed as he kicked one of the girls away.

In such cold weather, dressed so little, the girls’ hands and feet were naturally icy. Yet, they had to kneel motionless and serve this living demon. When the chill in her hands accidentally touched Little Ma’s face while feeding him, the girl met this fate, terrified and speechless, clinging to his pant leg, sobbing and pleading.

“Take her away!” Little Ma said disdainfully, not even glancing at the girl on the floor, kicking her aside with disgust. Two shrewd followers quickly rushed over, hoisting the girl and carrying her out.

“Wait!” Little Ma waved his hand, and the two stopped immediately, bowing and asking, “Little Ma, what is it?”

Little Ma stroked his stubbled chin, grinning wickedly. “It’s been a while since I’ve had some fun. Throw her in the cage—let the brothers have some entertainment.”

At these words, the girl's face turned ashen. Everyone in the bar knew exactly what Little Ma meant by “entertainment.” Her face drained of color, and she desperately knocked her head on the floor, a wet patch spreading beneath her feet, the stench filling the room.

“What are you waiting for?” Little Ma stood up, imposing, and barked, “Drag her away, and get someone to clean up this mess. Damn woman, wetting herself before anything started—what rotten luck.” With that, he strode out, ignoring the chaos left behind.

The bar was divided into several floors: the ground floor served as the usual business area, while the basement was a top-tier club for the wealthy. In the vast underground room, a ring stood at the center, covered entirely by an iron cage. Two zombies, collars fastened around their necks and chained with iron links as thick as a baby’s arm, snarled endlessly at the spectators outside.

A host, clutching a large megaphone, circled the cage, mimicking the tone of professional wrestling announcers, and shouted excitedly, “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have a thrilling show for you—let’s welcome the handsome guy from Shenzhen!”

The iron door opened, and a frail man with glasses was kicked inside. The door slammed shut, ignoring his desperate pleas. Dozens of wild eyes focused intently on the cage, waiting for the “entertainment” to begin.

“How long do you think he’ll last?” one underling asked.

“Hard to say—probably five minutes at most,” another replied, having watched these games many times and never seen anyone survive more than ten minutes.

“I bet he won’t last three minutes. Wanna bet?” the first asked.

“Why not? Who’s afraid?” The second slapped a half pack of Baisha cigarettes on the table. “I’ve got ten sticks left—how do you want to bet?”

On the ring, the bespectacled man had stopped struggling, his legs trembling, slowly turning his back to the cage wall. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his triangular eyes stared fixedly at the zombies, sweat pouring down his forehead.

The crowd grew restless, ignoring the host’s ramblings. Their craving for blood had ignited a fire within, and impatient jeers filled the room. The host hurriedly called for the start, scurrying away with his megaphone, hiding among the crowd with his small, shifty eyes glued to the ring.

Upon hearing the signal, a lackey quickly released one zombie’s chain. The zombie had long noticed the man on the stage, fresh meat right before its eyes, drooling all over the floor. The moment its neck restraint was loosened, it lunged at the bespectacled man.

Despite his frail appearance and initial terror, the man showed some skill when his life was truly at stake. He narrowly dodged several attacks from the zombie, but the cage was cramped, with another zombie chained in one corner, eyeing him hungrily. There was little room to maneuver; the bespectacled man flailed about inside, but the audience grew impatient—they had come for blood, and when none was forthcoming, they began to shout.

Little Ma smiled faintly and stood, pressing his hands downward to silence the crowd. He signaled discreetly to the shadows, and the second zombie in the cage was unchained, immediately rushing toward the bespectacled man.

This second zombie was not an ordinary one—it was more agile, capable of leaping. The moment it joined, the fight changed dramatically. In a few swift moves, the bespectacled man was caught by both zombies, each holding an arm and a leg, leaving him unable to escape.

Amid the excited shouts, his screams were drowned out. His carotid artery was bitten through, blood spraying high like a fountain. Within minutes, he convulsed and fell silent. The atmosphere in the bar reached its peak.

The main event was about to begin. The two zombies were pinned by several burly staff members with long poles and chained back into the corner. The girl who had angered Little Ma was now utterly terrified, her mind shattered, lying limp on the floor.

The iron door opened again, and the stripped girl was thrown inside. Cheers erupted from the crowd, mixed with shrill whistles. Her pale skin and the crimson blood sent the beasts of men into a frenzy.

As the girl was tossed into the cage, Little Ma rose and left. He had grown tired of such bloody spectacles; to him, this was merely a show—an explicit demonstration to remind everyone in the bar what happened to those who crossed him.

With these methods, Ma Tianxiong controlled the hundred-odd people in the bar, wielding both favor and terror. Those who obeyed were given scraps of meat; those who defied were thrown into the cage to feed the zombies. A few older bosses with some conscience once tried to rally a group and overthrow his tyrannical rule, but Ma Tianxiong relied on his years of hardened skill. The dozen rebels and their followers were all fed to the zombies; two of the most troublesome still remained chained in the cage.

From then on, no one dared to oppose him. In the shadowy bar, Ma Tianxiong’s long-repressed perverse tendencies were fully unleashed. Apart from a few cunning sycophants who followed him everywhere, flattering him at every turn, everyone else feared and hated him, but none dared stand up to his tyranny.

As Ma Tianxiong exited the basement, a lackey hurried over and whispered a few words in his ear. Little Ma’s eyes gleamed. “Bring him in,” he said.