The Boxing Ring

Du Youbang watched Tong Peipei's profile as she suddenly lost her temper.

After a brief moment of surprise, his eyes grew even hotter.

Hiss, I misjudged her. This girl is fiery!

He had been traded from Xu Jiaqi by Tong Peipei last night, using Lu Zhengyang's boxer slot and an additional reward of five hundred thousand.

Xu Jiaqi had also given face to the deal.

Of course, another reason was Xu Jiaqi's keen sense of the sinister aura emanating from Du Youbang.

This former gang leader was still restless.

He worried he wouldn't be able to control Du Youbang, so he readily agreed to Tong Peipei's offer.

If she likes this kind of dangerous guy, let her have him.

Du Youbang was quite satisfied with being transferred to Tong Peipei's management for boxing. He genuinely lusted after Tong Peipei.

She had looks, money, and power.

As long as he won this round of boxing, he was confident he could win Tong Peipei over.

This woman seemed to admire fighters from the bottom of her heart.

And with Tong Peipei's help, officially getting out of Stanley Prison wouldn't be a problem.

However, today's events made him see the woman before him in a new light.

Behind her cold beauty and admiration for strength, she seemed to have an unknown side.

Tong Peipei's gaze turned cold, shifting from the now-silent foreigner to Du Youbang:

"Next time, before I speak, you'd best keep quiet."

She obsessively wanted to witness Song Ren's skills again.

Especially at such close proximity, how pleasing to the eye would that be.

Just thinking about it made her feel... wet.

It was just that her boxer was too disappointing. She had already given him a chance, but he was useless.

And he even made her dislike him!

What a waste!

Tong Peipei gazed at Song Ren, who had already walked off the stage, through the large floor-to-ceiling window.

As if sensing her gaze, the figure below suddenly stopped and then looked up.

Those clear, fearless eyes made Tong Peipei instinctively place her hand on the glass, her breathing becoming subtly rapid.

Du Youbang, standing beside her, saw this clearly and couldn't help but furrow his brow slightly.

Judging by this, if I can't defeat that guy, I'll never get this girl.

Du Youbang's eyes darkened slightly.

An elder with a youthful face and white hair walked over and bowed respectfully to Tong Peipei, saying, "Madam, that young man's skills are not simple."

Tong Peipei retracted her gaze, and a slight smile returned to her cold, beautiful face:

"Naturally."

"Uncle, you didn't see it before."

"That guy beat three adult Pit Bulls to death without sustaining any injuries."

"In that process alone, he displayed exquisite Chuo Jiao techniques, the essence of Tan Tui, and very solid hand-to-hand combat skills."

"Tsk—"

"The leg techniques of Northern martial arts, the grappling of Southern fists, and the flashy moves with weapons."

"With such a fluid fighting style, even if you yourself were to fight, Uncle, you would likely admit defeat."

The elder chuckled instead: "Oh, that's quite impressive."

Du Youbang, who had been listening quietly nearby, was astonished once again.

He came from a rough background and possessed an unyielding grit in his bones.

Later, after his life began to take off, he also took up Sanda and Muay Thai, learning from many masters, which eventually formed his unique fighting style.

He was rather dismissive of the traditional martial arts passed down in martial arts schools.

This was because most of the martial arts masters he had encountered were all show and no substance. Occasionally, there were a few who had some ability, but they were no longer his match.

Hearing Tong Peipei's words at this moment, he was shocked again.

The elder noticed his expression and smiled, "What's wrong? Did you not know Madam used to be from a martial arts school when you agreed to transfer from Xu Jiaqi?"

"Who would have known!"

Du Youbang's expression remained unchanged, and he simply lowered his head.

It was just a temporary arrangement.

No matter what, I wasn't going to lose to anyone else on the stage.

Three days later.

Song Ren finally arrived for his first match since signing up for the boxing ring.

For these past three days, he'd been training at the Fook Shing Building's gym, and spent the rest of his time eating and sleeping at the hotel.

His life had basically been confined to these two points, with no extra entertainment.

Even Fei Zai started to wonder if the boxer he was responsible for was actually a monk.

His lifestyle was just too disciplined.

Fook Shing Building, top-floor VIP lounge.

Zhu Bao'er sat on a plush sofa, cradling a pink and white teddy bear pillow.

Beside her sat an elegant man in a silver-grey suit and black leather shoes.

He seemed resistant to the atmosphere of the place, bringing his hand to his nose as if catching a nauseating smell of sweat:

"Bao'er, what's so interesting about these low-class, ugly boxing rings?"

"If you really want to watch, we can book a top-tier UFC match."

Zhu Bao'er furrowed her delicate brows: "Huo Qisong, I didn't ask you to come with me."

"Alright, I won't try to persuade you anymore." Huo Qisong put on a doting expression.

However, his peripheral vision caught the two extra people in the room, which made him a little displeased.

"Why are you standing around like idiots? Go down and fight, can't you see Bao'er is already unhappy!"

Fei Zai tugged lightly at Song Ren's sleeve.

Song Ren said to Zhu Bao'er, "Miss Zhu, I'm going down to prepare."

Zhu Bao'er nodded, not forgetting to apologize for her fiancé's arrogant tone:

"Mhm, be careful."

"And don't take it to heart, he always talks like that."

"Oh, and after this match, I'll treat you to a big meal."

"Win or lose."

Song Ren and Fei Zai exited the VIP lounge.

However, as they opened the door to leave, Huo Qisong's somewhat arrogant voice could still be heard:

"Bao'er, you're just too nice. For these money-grubbing boxers, being polite to them is not as effective as throwing a wad of cash at them."

"I'm sure they'll be so grateful they thank us."

As soon as they stepped out of the VIP lounge.

Fei Zai spat to the side, saying resentfully:

"Go to hell, you snobbish bastard."

"Miss Zhu is so beautiful, it's a real shame she has a fiancé like that."

"Brother, don't you think so."

Song Ren didn't say anything, merely following the corridor to the fighters' preparation area.

The circular ring was covered by a giant metal cage, and the lights outside completely illuminated the stage.

Camera crews with long lenses and short lenses were already set up around the ring. The audience seats, numbering over a hundred, were packed, and it was clear that the attendees were all well-dressed elites.

Suits, qipaos, watches, hairspray, perfume.

There was no strong, lingering smell of sweat from the lower classes, but those eager and fervent eyes were all the same.

And in the ring-shaped VIP lounges on the third floor, with twenty-eight rooms, behind the large floor-to-ceiling windows, stood one or more influential big spenders, all watching.