A field of energy protection formed around the highlight, impermeable to any attack. Indeed, with a solid thud, the iron fist struck against something even harder—"Oh! My goodness!" Tom was completely unprepared. When the iron fist approached the highlight at just 30 centimeters, it encountered an exceptionally powerful barrier—the Golden Shell. Though the Golden Shell was intangible, its hardness surpassed that of special steel used in aircraft carriers. As the fist impacted it, blood streamed from Tom's palm, and his arm fractured—hence the piercing cries of pain. The onlookers were stunned. Even the crowd who had fully bet on Tom, including the interview panel, gasped in disbelief: "Impossible! Impossible!" Tom, bracing against the excruciating pain, resorted to his most vicious move—drawing a steel knife from his waist and plunging it fiercely toward the highlight. High-light was now furious; he would not yield without a strong effort. Leaping into the air with a taekwondo aerial kick, he sent Tom's steel sword flying, sending it soaring through the air. Then, he firmly pressed his hands. "Ah!" Tom cried out, his arm bones cracking with a series of creaking sounds as they shifted out of alignment. This wasn't the end yet. High-light delivered his powerful jujitsu punch—far surpassing Tom's rusty Marine training, by dozens, even hundreds of times over. "Thwack!" The punch landed squarely on Tom's eyes, instantly turning them into panda eyes. Tom could see nothing, screaming wildly, roaring like a madman, losing control. His wild swings and punches nearly injured the crowd. At that moment, High-light landed a second punch—this one even more forceful, striking directly to Tom's abdomen. Tom gasped in pain, collapsing to the ground, clutching his stomach tightly with both hands, his face contorting with agony. Rolling around on the ground, Tom—usually so commanding and confident—was now completely overwhelmed. Among the crowd, those who had previously been bullied by Tom were now fiercely cheered as they were thoroughly beaten by Gao Liang, clapping and shouting, "Great! Great!" "Chinese martial arts! Truly amazing!" Some people raised their thumbs and shouted praises toward Gao Liang. "Li Lee! The real Li Lee is here!" Others roared. "We've finally avenged ourselves! What a satisfying victory! Our Chinese men are truly the best!" A Chinese man raised his arms in enthusiastic acclaim. Tom had never suffered such a crushing defeat before. He had always been the one who dominated others, and no one had ever dared to challenge him. Now, despite the intense pain, he managed to hold on, reaching down to feel something at his waist. Gao Liang noticed. Goodness! How ruthless! He had actually drawn his weapon. With one foot planted firmly on Tom's face and the other on his hand, he delivered a sharp blow—"crack!" Tom's sleek pistol slipped from his waist, leaving everyone in astonishment. "He who does many unjust things will surely meet his downfall!" Gao Liang said in English, though not very fluently. Still, his words were clear, resonant, and full of conviction—radiating a strong sense of justice. With a slight twist of his legs, he exerted firm pressure. "Ah!" Tom's face twisted into a terrible expression, and at the same time, the bones in his hands cracked loudly, his hand skeleton snapping. "Great sir! Great sir! Please spare me! Oh! Oh! I beg you, please spare me! If only I had known you were so powerful, I would have died at your hands—I would never have dared to challenge you!" Tom pleaded repeatedly. Gao Liang did not release his grip. He knew these turtle-dogs would never learn unless they were truly shaken. He immediately commanded, "Everything you said earlier must now be binding!" "Yes! Yes! Sir! Grandfather!" Tom, now thoroughly intimidated, could not possibly refuse. Then, turning to the people who had placed bets, Tom urged, "Hurry up! Record the amounts! I've lost these wagers. I'll take full responsibility and cover them!" Soon, when the bettors tallied up their wagers, the total amounted to exactly eighty thousand dollars. Tom hurriedly pulled out a Citibank credit card from his pocket and handed it to Gao Huang, saying, "Here you go—exactly eighty thousand dollars! This is my way of honoring you, sir!" Gao Huang accepted it without hesitation. Face bravely, overcome every difficulty, believe—everything will come to pass. As Gaoang departed, receiving applause from the crowd, one person called out from behind: "Wait! You've been accepted! You're the only candidate accepted today!" Gaoang turned to see an older American man, named Flock, who served as Chairman of the Metropolitan Opera in New York. He had come by chance to inspect the hiring process and had just witnessed the scene unfold. Dressed in a suit, energetic and vibrant, he held a pipe in his mouth and extended a generous hand with sincere warmth. As a gesture of courtesy, Gaoang reached out in return. "Welcome to the Metropolitan Opera in New York! We're precisely looking for a man like you—someone with integrity and compassion!" Gaoang felt deeply touched by the chairman's genuine invitation. To survive in New York, Gaoang accepted this sincere offer. The Metropolitan Opera is a world-class opera house and a leading institution in New York. Originally located between 39th and 40th Streets on Broadway in the latter half of the 19th century, the Metropolitan Opera was established in 1965 as a central component of the Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts, commonly known as the "Met." With ten floors and situated at the Lincoln Center, its architectural style blends classical and modern elements, offering a grand scale that accommodates over 4,000 audience members—making it one of the world's most distinguished opera houses. The Metropolitan Opera in New York, which opened on October 22, 1883, boasts 3,625 seats. Interestingly, despite its size, it lacks dedicated box seats for wealthy business patrons. Countless artists have aspired to perform here and achieve success. Certainly, many of the current performers on stage are super stars, delivering truly outstanding performances. Westerners love opera as much as Chinese people are enchanted by Peking Opera. Before the establishment of the Metropolitan Opera, New York had only the Lyric Opera House, catering to the leisure activities of the wealthy, though its box seats were limited.