Tiger

"Damn, I haven't seen a fight this satisfying in ages!"

"Who's saying otherwise? Two heads exploded in the first two matches, ha! It's a pity I couldn't afford a front-row ticket, otherwise, I'd definitely be having the time of my life!"

"Wuwu, Brother Yao, my Brother Yao!"

"This Thunder Dragon is really something else. Wasn't today supposed to be the key battle for Zhang Yao's promotion? They said he was going to challenge a mysterious signed fighter, but he ended up getting his own head blown off in the second match! What the hell is going on?"

"It just means Thunder Dragon knows how to put on a show. Look, you didn't see that coming, did you?"

"Damn it, it must be a fix! My money!"

"Waiter, another Opening Red!"

The atmosphere in the bar was incredibly heated. Many spectators were parched from watching and kept ordering more drinks. Waiters in vests shuttled back and forth through the crowd with trays, looking extremely busy.

In the top-floor private box.

Zhou Hu stood before the one-way glass, looking down at the entire bar. His thick knuckles tapped against the glass rhythmically. He was expressionless, lost in thought.

At his feet, a disheveled woman lay limp on the floor, sobbing and retching, her entire being seemingly shattered.

The box door opened, and the burly Yu Feng squeezed inside, fixing his gaze on Zhou Hu's back. Whether it was the sight of exposed skin or a pitiful display, he didn't spare the woman a single glance.

"You just said..."

Zhou Hu spoke slowly:

"This guy's training isn't much?"

He turned around, his gaze deep:

"Yet, he smashed Zhang Yao to pieces with one hand."

The woman's sobbing grew louder.

Yu Feng said indifferently:

"I didn't expect it either."

"Who could have? Today's main event died in the second match, and in such a way. All my arrangements have been thrown into chaos."

Zhou Hu shook his head repeatedly:

"I couldn't have imagined it either. No matter how incompetent Zhang Yao is, he's still one of the top-ranked official fighters. And look at this... what was his name again?"

"Chen Chong."

"Oh, Chen Chong. This Chen Chong took a punch and a kick from Zhang Yao without even budging. Is he a mountain or something? Even if I went up there, I wouldn't do much better, right?"

Zhou Hu's voice grew louder. A sharp glint flashed in his eyes as he said, word by word:

"And yet you still say his training isn't much?"

Yu Feng fell silent.

After all, just a few minutes ago, he had also believed the outcome of this match was already set in stone.

Before entering the box, the shock in his heart was no less than Zhou Hu's—perhaps even greater.

Because he was the one who taught Chen Chong his martial arts, and he had been watching him for all these days.

Fast progress, excellent talent—that was his assessment. He hadn't expected that right under his nose, even that assessment had been too low.

The progress of his bone tempering, the application of his breathing technique, and that incredible resistance to strikes... it was all completely beyond his expectations.

He had thought Chen Chong was just a meteor, flashing a few times in a corner of the Wasteland before falling, noticed only by the peripheral vision of one man.

As it turned out, the fire belonging to him seemed to have only just ignited.

This was no meteor.

Yu Feng had stood stunned on the spectator stand for a full two minutes before thinking to come in and report.

He spoke slowly:

"He has made great progress in the last two days."

Zhou Hu let out a scoff:

"Is this just a matter of progress over the last two days?"

"He had some foundation before joining the company. He must have been exposed to breathing techniques, but he hadn't mastered them. After I taught him the breathing technique these past few days, his progress was decent. But before he went on stage, I didn't know he had reached this level either."

Yu Feng said calmly. He thought for a moment and added:

"I feel like he was provoked."

Zhou Hu's expression softened slightly. He nodded briefly and cursed under his breath:

"Idiot, you pushed him into a berserk state..."

He pondered for a moment and asked:

"That force-deflection technique has some substance to it. You went to Lichuan this time, right? Where did he train before? He couldn't have had a master with high-level skills, could he?"

"I asked. He's an ordinary person. If he had a proper lineage, why would he come to our neck of the woods?"

"Fair enough, it was all well-planned. Perhaps he was lucky... or perhaps, unlucky."

Zhou Hu leaned back into the sofa, his voice low.

"Bring him to me."

Yu Feng glanced at him, then turned and walked out.

The woman suddenly grabbed Zhou Hu's calf, wailing:

"Brother Hu, Brother Hu, you must avenge Zhang Yao! He was my only brother, and he was... he was... sob! Brother Hu, I want him dead! I want his whole family dead! Rip his head off for me!"

"Rest easy."

Zhou Hu stroked the woman's hair, offering a few words of comfort before calling two waitresses to take her away to rest.

The private room door closed, only to open again a short while later.

Yu Feng brought Chen Chong inside.

Chen Chong looked at the burly man on the sofa: white spiky hair, a leather vest worn with nothing underneath, exaggerated pectoral muscles like granite, and arms covered in tattoos that were thicker than an average man's thighs.

Zhou Hu, the second-in-command of Thunder Dragon.

Zhou Hu scrutinized him in return, sweeping his gaze up and down before looking behind him.

"Old Yu, why are you still standing there?"

Yu Feng paused for a moment before slowly walking out and closing the door.

The room was suddenly left with only Chen Chong and Zhou Hu, and the atmosphere grew heavy in an instant.

Zhou Hu crossed his legs, his foot tapping rhythmically.

"You're quite something. You knew Zhang Yao's sister was with me, didn't you?"

"I knew."

Chen Chong said calmly.

"You knew, and you still dared to make a move?"

Zhou Hu's voice turned chillingly sharp.

Chen Chong felt those two gazes pressing down on him like physical weight. He took a deep breath and said:

"Surrendering wouldn't have worked. I had no choice."

Zhou Hu nodded.

"The kid was a fool himself. However—"

He changed his tone, a mocking smile playing on his lips.

"You aren't telling the truth either. Even if surrendering had worked, you never intended to let him go. You went into that ring aiming to kill him."

Chen Chong remained silent.

Zhou Hu lowered his leg, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees.

"His sister wants me to rip your head off, too. I'm quite fond of his sister."

"Besides, Zhang Yao was the next fighter I had signed and scheduled. He was popular, and I had plenty of plans for him. Your little stunt has thrown all my arrangements into chaos. I don't even know how much money I'm going to lose."

"Tell me, how should we settle this debt? Your hands? Your feet? Or... your head?"

Chen Chong felt those sharp, predatory eyes slicing through his body without restraint, as if a real blade were carving into him. His muscles tightened involuntarily.

"What, you still want to fight me?"

Zhou Hu gave a disdainful laugh, stood up, and strode over to Chen Chong. He hammered his own chest hard, producing a dull thud-thud sound.

"Come on, hit this!"

Chen Chong fought the urge to strike. Zhou Hu took two more steps forward, crowding him until his massive shadow completely engulfed him.

"Hit me! You were so capable just a moment ago, weren't you? Why aren't you fighting now? I'm telling you to hit me, and you won't?"

Zhou Hu suddenly roared.

It was as if a real tiger were howling in his ear. Chen Chong's head spun, his ears rang, and the entire room seemed to vibrate.

Chen Chong clenched his fists, forcibly suppressing the impulse to retaliate, and let Zhou Hu spray spit all over his face.

The intense pressure at such close range made him want to resist or flee, but he had an inexplicable premonition: he was already prey in a tiger's maw. If he moved, it would all be over.

Seeing Chen Chong remain silent, Zhou Hu suddenly dropped the act, scoffed, and walked back to sit down.

The room fell into a sudden silence, broken only by the scratching of a pen against paper.

Zhou Hu signed a document and flicked it casually; the paper drifted across the table.

"Take this to Manager Guo at the bar. I'll arrange a fight for you in three days."

Chen Chong looked at the paper drifting to his feet, picked it up, and raised an eyebrow.

"You don't have to be a warm-up act anymore. Your compensation will be the same as Zhang Yao's for now. Whether you get more depends on your performance."

Zhou Hu picked up a cigar, lit it, and placed it between his lips.

Pale blue smoke drifted slowly upward, veiling his expression and making his eyes appear even more profound.

"Did you hear that?"

"I heard it."

Chen Chong nodded, then added:

"I don't understand."

Zhou Hu chuckled, reached out with a long arm to open the window, and the clamor from outside instantly flooded in:

"What's there not to understand? Listen, how lively it is out there! Because of that kick of yours, who knows how much extra liquor revenue the bar will make tonight. Besides, it's been a long time since a warm-up fighter toppled a formal fighter, especially when Zhang Yao was originally slated to advance. The old gambling addicts could all see how the situation was set, yet... the betting house must have made a killing today!"

Zhou Hu laughed heartily:

"I feel like you have potential; perhaps the next big star will be you! Heh, you can just brush off a woman's words. How could I possibly lose a promising new star because of her?

"However, since I let you off the hook, you must prove that you're actually worth it. Three days from now is your chance."

Zhou Hu gave him a look full of hidden meaning:

"Otherwise, the debt from today will still be settled on your head."

With a casual wave of his hand, he signaled that Chen Chong could leave. Once Chen Chong closed the door, he leaned back into the sofa, the cigar between his fingers flickering in the dim light.

After a long while, he suddenly stood up, walked into the inner room of the private box, felt along the wall for a moment, and opened a hidden compartment.

Inside the compartment was a black safe. He twisted the complex three-layer combination lock, taking quite a while to crack it. He carefully pulled open the safe door, revealing a silver briefcase the size of a document bag inside.

The material of the silver case looked somewhat strange, as if it were something between metal and plastic. Its craftsmanship was incredibly fine; from the outside, there wasn't a single seam, as if it had been formed as one solid piece, yet it was clearly some kind of container.

Such an object looked completely out of place in the Wasteland.

In truth, the black safe itself was already something that shouldn't exist in a place like this, but compared to what it held, it still seemed to be from a different era.

A gleam of brilliance appeared in Zhou Hu's eyes. He stared fixedly at the briefcase for a while, wanting to reach out and touch it, but held himself back.

He ultimately locked the safe again, carefully reset the hidden compartment, and confirmed that not a single flaw could be detected.

Yet, he couldn't help but think back to the fight just now, thinking of that unshakable performance, and he began to stroke his chin, lost in thought.