On the back was a simple map marking the location of the fighting ring.
That evening, the West River Market fighting ring officially opened.
Two large red lanterns hung at the entrance, each bearing the character for "fist," and the main doors stood open.
Mo Zhengxing stood on the second floor, looking down with some nervousness.
Although Wu Shuangren had laid everything out clearly and logically, Mo Zhengxing had no idea whether anyone would actually want to come in and watch the fights.
The Mo Family had already sunk several hundred taels of silver into this business. If they lost every last coin, it would be the worst deal Mo Zhengxing had ever made in his life!
61 Fist Academy
Night fell, and West River Market glowed with lights.
The former theater had now been named the Fist Academy.
More than a dozen torches stood around the ring, their orange-red flames lighting the entire venue as brightly as day.
Forty or fifty people were already seated below the ring: traveling porters, dock laborers, and wandering martial artists with swords and sabers at their waists.
In the private rooms upstairs on either side sat several middle-aged men in silk robes who were obviously wealthy merchants, all accompanied by attendants.
Watching the matches from the ground-floor hall was free, but a private room on the second floor cost extra.
Anyone willing to pay for an upstairs seat on the first day was clearly not short of money.
Mo Zhengxing had someone give each spectator in the downstairs hall a free handful of melon seeds.
The guests in the private rooms were served tea and some fruit.
"That should be enough. Let's begin."
Mo Zhengxing glanced outside the main doors and gave the order.
Having this many people turn up on the first night had already met his expectations.
Bai Jinhuan stepped onto the ring, cupped both hands in salute, circulated his Internal Skill, and called out in a powerful voice:
"Friends, welcome to West River Market Boxing Hall! Tonight is the first match at our Fist Academy, so allow me to explain the rules of the fights here first."
His Internal Skill was profound, and his voice echoed throughout the entire Fist Academy. Some of the martial artists present changed color, wary looks appearing on their faces.
A few ill intentions were also set aside for the time being.
"Two fighters enter the ring using only their fists and feet, with no weapons! No eye-gouging and no kicks to the groin! After a fighter is knocked down, the match cannot continue until he gets back to his feet.
"A knockdown is worth five points; a hit to the head, three; a hit to the chest, two; a hit to the back, two; and a hit to the lower abdomen, one.
"The fighter with the most points within the time it takes one incense stick to burn wins.
"If either fighter is knocked down and cannot get up, or admits defeat, the match ends immediately!"
As Bai Jinhuan explained the rules, an attendant hung a white cloth below the ring. The detailed rules had been written on it in ink, along with illustrations marking each scoring area and its point value. It was simple and clear.
This, of course, had also been Wu Shuangren's suggestion.
The crowd below watched with interest. This way of fighting was quite novel, and none of them had ever seen it before.
After finishing his introduction, Bai Jinhuan remained in the ring. Another attendant brought an incense burner to the other side below the ring and placed a thin incense stick in it.
Immediately afterward, two fighters stepped into the ring. Both wore nothing but black shorts, their feet bare and their muscular upper bodies exposed.
"For the first match, 'Iron Arm Fist' Zhou Hu faces 'Mountain-Crossing Wind' Wang Tong!"
Standing in the ring, Bai Jinhuan pointed to each man in turn as he introduced them loudly.
Giving every fighter a nickname had naturally been Wu Shuangren's idea as well.
Both men wore boxing gloves made from two layers of cotton and three layers of coarse linen. Unless a fighter had a profound Internal Skill and had trained in martial arts that delivered penetrating force, the gloves were enough to take roughly thirty percent off his punching power.
The two men took their places in the ring and saluted each other with cupped fists.
The attendant lit the incense.
Bai Jinhuan shouted, "Begin!"
Everyone perked up and fixed their eyes on the ring.
Zhou Hu lunged forward, his right fist whistling through the air as it smashed toward Wang Tong's face. Wang Tong remained calm. He ducked slightly and turned aside to evade the punch, then shot out his left fist like lightning, striking Zhou Hu squarely in the ribs.
Bam!
A muffled thud rang out.
Zhou Hu took the punch as if nothing had happened and swung back with a hook. Wang Tong dodged again, but this time he was half a beat too slow. The glove grazed his cheek, leaving a burning sting.
The two traded blows, every punch landing on flesh as they fought to a standstill.
The spectators below watched with relish. Someone shouted at the top of his lungs, "Hit him! Hit him!"
After several dozen exchanges, Zhou Hu began to run short of stamina. He had no choice but to change tactics, abandoning his fierce assault and going on the defensive.
Wang Tong's breathing was comparatively steady. Seeing a heavy punch coming from Zhou Hu, he suddenly ducked and swept a leg at him.
Zhou Hu had not expected that move. His feet went out from under him, and he was swept heavily to the ground!
Wang Tong almost instinctively moved forward to continue attacking, but a figure suddenly rushed over and stopped him.
"Stop!"
It was Bai Jinhuan, the referee.
Then he shouted to Zhou Hu, who lay on the ground, "Ten! Nine! Eight..."
There was no need to explain the rule. The spectators understood at once.
If Zhou Hu had not gotten up by the end of the ten-count, he would probably lose the match.
Zhou Hu got back to his feet when Bai Jinhuan reached five.
"Can you go on?"
Bai Jinhuan asked.
Zhou Hu nodded.
"Continue!"
Bai Jinhuan waved his hand again, then darted aside, letting the two men resume their fight.
Mo Zhengxing stood in a corner on the second floor, watching the match below.
He had asked Wu Shuangren why they needed a referee in the ring, and why there had to be a rule requiring a fallen fighter to get back up before the match could continue.
Wu Shuangren had explained that it was to protect the fighters. He had also said something about changing the rules once the fighters learned "ground techniques" in the future.
Mo Zhengxing could roughly understand what "ground techniques" meant. He had originally worried that rules like these would make the fights less satisfying for the spectators.
But now, a match where a man was knocked down again and again, only to get back up and keep fighting each time, seemed quite entertaining to watch.
"Bam!"
Zhou Hu was knocked down for the fourth time, and after Bai Jinhuan finished the ten-count, he failed to get up again.
Bai Jinhuan stepped forward, raised Wang Tong's right hand, and announced loudly, "The winner of the first match is 'Mountain-Crossing Wind' Wang Tong!"
Cheers and applause rose from the crowd.
"Well fought!"
someone shouted.
Wang Tong panted heavily, a tired but satisfied smile on his face.
As agreed beforehand, he would receive an extra hundred copper coins for winning. That meant he had earned two hundred coins for one match tonight, far better than the other work he had found before!
Some of the martial artists in the crowd were not nearly as excited as the ordinary spectators. Instead, their faces were full of contempt.
Zhou Hu and Wang Tong had both begun practicing Internal Skill only after reaching adulthood. They were merely beginners and could not sustain it for long, relying mostly on their fists and feet.
In the eyes of some martial artists, that level was not worth mentioning.
If Bai Jinhuan had not shown a glimpse of his skill at the opening, some people might already have started boasting wildly and making trouble.
"I heard you get a hundred coins just for fighting a match, and another hundred if you win."
"At that level, I could go up there and win without even trying!"
"Isn't that just picking up free money?"
Several martial artists were tempted and planned to speak with the Fist Academy's owner after watching the matches.
The first boxing match ended, and the second soon began.
Two new fighters stepped into the ring...
Four matches were held at the Fist Academy that night. Cheers rang out constantly, and the lively atmosphere drew quite a few passersby in from outside to watch.
The excitement continued late into the night...
62 Profit and Loss
In Mo Zhengxing's eyes, the first night of boxing matches had been a great success.
Afterward, several wandering martial artists approached him of their own accord, hoping to stay on as fighters.
After assessing them, Mo Zhengxing signed three more fighters.
Wu Shuangren had told him that they needed to sign at least fifty or sixty fighters to ensure the matches were different every night, giving the spectators something fresh to see each day.
The next day, Mo Zhengxing continued sending people out to distribute flyers and spread the word.
Those who had watched the fights on the first night also passed the news along-
Entertainment was scarce in this era to begin with. There were few places to pass the time, and many of them cost money.
So a place where people could watch the excitement for free and even snack on melon seeds was a rare find for many.
By the second evening, the audience had doubled from the first night, with over a hundred people seated and more than half the private rooms booked.
On the third day, a long line had formed outside the Fist Academy as soon as the sky began to darken!
Inside, the benches below the ring had long since been filled, and latecomers could only find empty spaces to stand around the edges.
The dozen or so private rooms on the second floor were all brightly lit and completely sold out. Spectators and their attendants leisurely sipped tea and ate fruit as they looked down below.
There were still four matches each night, and once they were over, that was the end.
Mo Zhengxing assigned three guards to serve as ringside judges, each with pen and paper in hand to keep score throughout. If neither fighter was knocked down and unable to rise by the end of a match, the three judges would announce both men's scores aloud to decide the winner.
Just as Wu Shuangren had said, some martial artists looked down on and scorned this way of fighting, but ordinary spectators loved watching it.
For the next three nights in a row, the Fist Academy was packed to bursting!
There was truly no more standing room inside, so many people stood outside the hall, listening to the excitement.
On the seventh day, Mo Zhengxing saw that the time was ripe. Before the matches began, he had several square tables brought out and set on either side of the ring. Wooden signs stood on the tables, displaying the fighters' names and the odds-betting on the fights was officially open!
"Bets start at just five coins! All bets are final, and young and old alike get a fair deal!"
the attendants called out loudly.
The crowd immediately began to stir.
Gambling had its audience everywhere. Those with money bought themselves a thrill, while those without it longed to strike it rich.
Before long, long lines formed in front of the betting tables, copper coins clinking as they changed hands.
Guests in the second-floor private rooms did not need to come downstairs. Someone went into their rooms to ask whether they wanted to place a bet.
Only after everyone had finished betting did the first match begin.
With wagers on the line, the atmosphere grew even more heated. The shouting nearly lifted the roof!
When the first match was decided, some cheered while others cursed loudly.
And whether they had won or lost, noticeably more people placed bets on the second match...
After all four matches were over, some people loudly demanded that the owner put on a fifth.
Mo Zhengxing stepped forward and said there would be only four matches each night. Smiling, he told everyone to come early the next day.