Volcano

In a box high above the stands.

"Ah!"

With an excited shriek, a sultry woman threw herself against the windowsill, pumping her fist and cheering loudly.

She wore only a purple-red sequined camisole, the sort of thing one might wear to a dance hall. It left her dazzlingly white shoulders, the shallow but well-defined cleft of her breasts, and a pair of long legs, thick at the top and tapering below, on full display. The camisole was a little too small for her, barely covering her buttocks to begin with. Now, as she stood on tiptoe and leaned out the window, half of her full, pert bottom was exposed.

There was nothing there—or rather, there was everything.

Yu Feng kept his eyes straight ahead, frowning as he watched the staff carry away Li Xiaoguang's body and clean the ring.

Zhou Hu cradled a glass of champagne as he lounged on the sofa. Even with his burly frame sprawled like that, he could still see the action below. His brows were raised, too, but before long his gaze shifted to the woman's bottom. His eyes flickered; he set down his glass and rose to his feet.

He pressed up behind her and rasped:

"I'd already told your little brother what to do. He's such a handful."

"What does it matter? He was only a Warm-up Fighter. If he's dead, he's dead."

The woman giggled coquettishly and wrapped her arms around Zhou Hu's neck.

Zhou Hu shook his head.

"It doesn't matter, sure. But there are still a few people after him. Once they've seen what happens when someone gives up, they'll all fight like their lives depend on it. How much strength will Zhang Yao have left for the final bout?"

The woman let her hand wander downward.

"Oh, Brother Hu, didn't you arrange everything already?"

"I did, but I'm worried he'll be panting by the end. It won't look good if he wins like that."

"That could never happen! My little brother's amazing~"

The woman smiled seductively as she swayed her serpentine waist.

She'd deliberately rushed to the window to scream and cheer just now because she'd been waiting for this moment.

Zhou Hu could hold back no longer. Breathing hard, he thrust himself against her.

"You little minx! Come see for yourself how amazing my little brother is!"

The woman stuck out her tongue, her entire upper body still leaning out the window. Some spectators nearby noticed what was happening behind her and immediately started hooting. The woman didn't care in the slightest; she screamed and blew kisses.

Zhou Hu turned around, still panting, and ordered:

"Just send out one more Warm-up Fighter. Don't put them all in."

Yu Feng nodded slowly and left the box.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck!!!"

In the Waiting Room, Wang Li knelt in front of a bench, clutching his head in utter despair.

Li Xiaoguang's body lay on the bench, covered in blood, half his head caved in...

Chen Chong blankly pulled the white cloth back over the body, lifted Wang Li—who was still muttering "fuck"—and shoved him into a chair nearby.

"Quiet."

Wang Li fell silent at once.

Liu Hetao sat half-standing beside them, frozen in a strange posture. He hadn't even noticed. He swallowed and rasped:

"Chen Chong, what—what do we do?"

"What do you mean, what do we do?"

"Xiaoguang, he..."

Chen Chong replied calmly:

"What can we do? Xiaoguang is dead. Dead is dead. This is the Wasteland's underground boxing ring, not a student boxing club in Lichuan."

He seemed to be speaking to Liu Hetao, but also to himself.

Liu Hetao flinched and dropped into the chair.

"He's really dead..."

His eyes went vacant.

The door was yanked open with a bang. Wang Li and Liu Hetao both jolted.

"You're up. They said to follow the numbers strictly."

Wang Li looked down at his number and immediately pulled a long face.

"M-my stomach hurts!"

Chen Chong walked up to him. As his shadow fell over Wang Li, Wang Li began trembling uncontrollably.

"No, no! I—I can't do this! I'm not Brother Li, I'm too scared to fight! I left the gang because I was afraid of fighting! Whenever there was a brawl, I hid in the back. The guys in the gang called me Rat Li, Flour Boy! I only dared to sell powder, and even then I was scared of getting robbed by addicts! I really can't do this. I learned to box so I wouldn't get bullied, but even after I earned the title of Red Stick, I wouldn't dare hit someone when they told me to! I really can't! I'm a rat, ow, my stomach hurts, I'm not going... Huh?"

Chen Chong tugged him, and Wang Li immediately burst into tears and snot, feeling like he was about to shit himself. But Chen Chong only lifted him slightly, pulled off his Number Jersey, and tossed him his own number four.

The man in sunglasses at the door frowned and said coldly:

"They said to follow the numbers."

Chen Chong looked at him calmly.

"I'm number one."

The man's eyes widened. He was about to scold him, but when he met Chen Chong's gaze, still as a pool of dead water, he inexplicably shivered.

He studied Chen Chong for a couple of seconds, then silently stepped aside, mumbling:

"If you're in a hurry to die, go ahead."

Wang Li slumped in the chair. When he saw Chen Chong about to leave, he reached out without thinking.

"Don't go!"

Chen Chong didn't answer. He walked resolutely toward the door.

Wang Li's face was smeared with tears and snot, blurring his vision. He could only make out Chen Chong's silhouette, which somehow reminded him of a volcano, poised to erupt.

An absurd thought suddenly came to him:

"Could Chen Chong be planning to take Zhang Yao down?"

He immediately shook his head again and again, thinking in despair:

"The gap is too big."

The door shut. Liu Hetao was still trembling all over as he muttered:

"Chen Chong will be okay, right? Could he die too? If he dies, will I be next? Maybe not. Two people will have died by then. That should be enough for tonight."

As Wang Li listened to Liu Hetao's endless muttering, he suddenly snapped:

"Why do you keep talking about people dying? He won't die, even if you do! Chen Chong can't die!"

"But, but Xiaoguang's already dead. And that's Zhang Yao..."

Wang Li hesitated, then kicked Liu Hetao.

"You questioning Brother Li? No buts!!!"

Chen Chong left the Waiting Room and entered the dimly lit passageway.

He glanced back. That was the exit Li Xiaoguang had longed for.

He looked ahead. The door at the top of the stairs stood ajar, white light shining through the gap.

Chen Chong walked down the passageway one step at a time, climbed the stairs, and pushed open the door.

"Whoosh—"

A deafening roar and blinding light crashed over him. Chen Chong raised a hand to shield his eyes. After emerging from the narrow, dark passage into such a wide, brightly lit space, he needed a moment to adjust.

The bloodshed of the first bout had thoroughly inflamed the audience. When they saw a newcomer enter, they erupted with excitement, howling at the top of their lungs. Screams of "Kill him!" and "Die!" pierced the stands, setting off another wave of cheers.

Chen Chong ignored the many arms reaching right up to him. The spectators in the front row nearly had their hands in his face, and flecks of spit had already landed in his hair. He came out of the passageway, crossed to the ring in a few strides, climbed the steps, pushed aside the ropes, and stepped inside.

He looked down at the floor, still a little damp. He carefully adjusted his position, not wanting to step on that patch.

Zhang Yao watched Chen Chong with interest. His blood was still pumping, and he'd taken off his jacket, leaving only a pair of shorts. With his thick chest hair and bushy beard, he looked like a human bear. Over six foot three and solidly muscled, he was practically wider than a door.

Chen Chong was more than a size smaller by comparison. The audience could already guess what was coming, and they cheered Zhang Yao's name. "Zhang Yao!" "Kill him!" "Crack his skull!" "Contracted Fighter!" The cries came one after another, and Zhang Yao wore a look of pure enjoyment.

He watched Chen Chong cautiously shuffle his feet and grinned.

"The biggest pushover's here! Why are you tiptoeing around? You already pissed yourself? Hahahaha!"

Chen Chong finally found the right spot. As long as he didn't retreat, he wouldn't step on that patch.

He ignored Zhang Yao as if the man were nothing but air. Turning his head toward the referee, he nodded calmly.

"We can start."