Wang Ying pursed his lips, a faint smile appearing on his dark, plump face. His belly was nearly as large as Xiong Er's as he took a few steps back and crooked a finger at Xiang Yang.
"Little Xiang, did you hear that? Deputy Chief Xiong wants to learn from you. If you win, we'll arrest them right away and save ourselves some effort. If you lose, we'll have to spend more time on this. It's up to you."
Wang Ying's actions and words left Xiong Er across from them so shocked that his jaw nearly dropped. What was going on? Hadn't they agreed to a one-on-one fight between the two of them? Why send out some wet-behind-the-ears brat?
Xiong Er's calculations had been loud and clear. Losing a martial contest to the county's chief constable would not damage his reputation, because Wang Ying was already a renowned tough guy. He had even survived an encounter with Big Beard, the chief of Black Wind Mountain Stronghold—no ordinary man could accomplish that.
But replacing him with a brat who looked like his mother's milk had barely dried was another matter entirely. If he, Xiong Er, lost to some nobody, not only would his own reputation suffer, it might even shake the very foundations of his gang.
Why did people follow you? First, for money; second, for prestige. If you were a worthless fool who could not even beat a nobody, what face did you have to be gang leader? Working under you would be humiliating.
Xiang Yang grunted. He untied the wine gourd from his waist, twisted off its cap, and took a great gulp. Patting his stomach, he sauntered forward with an air of wild swagger, stopping before the many constables. His right hand rested on the hilt of his