After everyone had left, Mo Zhengxing shut the gates of the Fist Academy and took out an abacus to calculate the night's takings with two bookkeepers.
"Third Master, the private rooms brought in two hundred and forty wen, and the house made six hundred and twenty-eight wen from boxing wagers. That's eight hundred and sixty-eight wen in total."
The bookkeeper had calculated the result.
Mo Zhengxing checked it himself and found no mistakes.
There had been four bouts, and the two fighters in each bout had to be paid three hundred wen between them. For four bouts, that came to twelve hundred wen.
There were also expenses for fruit and tea.
By that reckoning, they had still lost money tonight.
But Mo Zhengxing smiled. "Not bad. Thank you all for your hard work. Get some rest early."
Given how popular the Fist Academy was now, as more and more people grew accustomed to watching bouts and gambling on them, the wagers were bound to grow larger. That revenue alone could cover expenses and turn the losses into profits.
On top of that, the Fist Academy would certainly charge admission later. Even at just two wen a person, that would mean a steady income of over four hundred wen a night.
There were also the private rooms on the second floor. They currently cost twenty wen each, but the price could later rise to thirty wen or even more.
By that estimate, if they could earn one string of cash a night, the monthly profit would be thirty strings, nearly as much as the Mo Family's illicit salt business.
In Mo Zhengxing's many years of business experience, the boxing venture Wu Shuangren had proposed had successfully taken its first step!
He took out some writing paper and wrote a letter, then summoned a Mo Family guard and told him to ride back to Bo County with it and deliver it to Wu Shuangren.
The twenty-fifth day after the ambush on the Mist Hidden Temple cavalry.
Bo County, militia training camp.
In the open space, ten militiamen stood in a row, holding their spears out in front of them.
Two hundred paces away, Wu Shuangren, Wu Dongrong, and Liao Yu sat on horseback, spears in hand.
The next moment, the three urged their horses forward together, riding abreast.
Their horses picked up speed, and they raised their spears, charging at the ten militiamen ahead!
A hundred paces.
Fifty paces.
In the line, some militiamen's legs began to tremble, and their faces turned pale.
"Stand firm! No retreating!"
"Hold your spears steady!"
The squad leader shouted at them.
Thirty paces. Dust filled the air.
Wu Shuangren and the others had driven their horses to full speed!
Twenty paces. The militiamen could feel the fierce wind on their faces.
"Whoa-"
The three pulled their reins almost simultaneously, bringing their horses to a halt.
In the end, only a few paces separated the three horses from the militiamen's outstretched spears.
"Next squad."
Wu Shuangren called out.
The ten militiamen withdrew, and another squad of ten took their places.
Wu Shuangren, Wu Dongrong, and Liao Yu rode back to their starting point.
This was a new training exercise Wu Shuangren had proposed. He wanted to use it to get the militiamen accustomed to cavalry charges in advance.
If they encountered a cavalry charge in the future, even if they still couldn't stop it, at least they wouldn't break so easily.
And what had just happened showed that Wu Shuangren had not only learned to ride, but had become quite skilled at it.
He had progressed so quickly partly because Wu Dongrong was a good teacher, but also because of Match for One Person.
All he had to do was mount a horse, equip the Trait, and have a mounted fight with Wu Dongrong, and he would naturally "unlock" mounted combat techniques.
As with learning saber techniques and footwork, the Trait gave him a "personal demonstration," and Wu Shuangren's horsemanship improved by leaps and bounds!
By the time the "cavalry charge training" ended, it was dark.
Wu Shuangren ate dinner with the militiamen.
The militiamen did not disperse afterward. They rested for a while, then assembled again.
Five ladders had been set up outside the side rooms where they lived. The militiamen divided into five groups, and five men climbed onto the roof by the ladders, then stood at the edge of the eaves with their backs to the ground below.
Under the eaves, the remaining militiamen stood in two rows, reaching out and linking arms with one another, ready to catch the men above.
This was the new "trust training" Wu Shuangren had added.
"Your comrades are below you. When you go to the battlefield and face the enemy, you must trust your comrades and leave your backs to them. Believe that your comrades will catch you!"
Wu Shuangren stood in the courtyard and shouted.
"Fall backward!"
At his command, some fell backward without hesitation, dropping from the eaves and landing safely in their comrades' arms.
Others hesitated, while some didn't dare fall and kept turning around to look below.
Wu Shuangren rushed over and cursed them out!
Under his stern orders, all five finally fell from the eaves and were caught by the men below.
Then the next group of five climbed onto the roof.
"Shuangren's method really is quite ingenious."
Watching the militiamen train, Liao Yu couldn't help saying to Wu Dongrong, "The bond between comrades has to be forged on the battlefield, through facing life and death together. But his method lets these soldiers experience that bond beforehand. Brilliant!"
Wu Dongrong nodded in agreement.
As the two spoke, they suddenly heard hoofbeats.
They turned and saw a Mo Family guard riding toward them.
"Commander Wu, a letter for you!"
63 West River Gang
The eleventh night after the Fist Academy opened.
Tonight, Mo Zhengxing had decided to start charging admission: two wen per person. The price of a private room had also risen to thirty wen.
He had planned to keep admission free for a while longer, but business was booming!
Many people had lined up outside the Fist Academy early, and fights had even broken out over people cutting in line.
If they didn't start charging admission, it would only make trouble more likely.
Although the admission fee upset some people, it was only two wen. Some who liked betting on bouts paid for tickets without hesitation.
In the end, every seat on the first floor was still filled, and people packed the standing room as well. Two hundred and thirty tickets were sold, and all twelve private rooms sold out.
They could actually have sold more, but Mo Zhengxing chose to limit the number of people to prevent trouble from overcrowding.
A quarter past the hour of the dog, all bets had been placed, and the first bout began.
In a private room on the second floor, a man in a brocade robe sat by the window, watching the match below with a sinister look in his eyes.
He rolled two walnuts in his hand. Behind him stood a stocky man with long arms that nearly reached his knees.
The man in brocade was Chen Xiao, the West River Gang's second-in-command.
For a gang to call itself the West River Gang in West River Market, its strength was naturally nothing to scoff at.
River transport, illicit salt, and gambling dens were the West River Gang's main sources of income. The gang had a monopoly on all the gambling dens in West River Market!
So when he heard that the Fist Academy was taking bets and doing good business, Chen Xiao, the West River Gang's second-in-command, brought men over.
"What's the background of this Fist Academy's owner?"
Chen Xiao asked.
A servant in a blue robe was also in the private room. He said respectfully, "Master Xiao, there wasn't much time, and this group keeps its lips sealed. I couldn't find out much, but from their accents, they should be from Yi Province."
"Outsiders?"
Chen Xiao rolled the walnuts in his hand and sneered. "They don't seem to know the rules very well."
The servant behind him nodded repeatedly.
"Then let's see how much these outsiders weigh, daring to come to West River Market to make a living."
Chen Xiao smiled as he spoke.
In the ring below, a fighter was knocked down and failed to get back up for a long time. He lost the match as more than a hundred people counted down in unison.
The referee announced the result, and cheers rang through the venue, though some people cursed furiously.
At the height of the commotion, Chen Xiao rose, stood by the window, and called out:
"Playing house with padded gloves, and you call this martial competition?"
Driven by his internal skill, his voice carried throughout the venue, drowning out the clamor.
The crowd gradually fell silent, and everyone looked up at Chen Xiao.
"I say you're taking the audience for fools!"
Chen Xiao's words rang out as he slammed his palm heavily against the railing by the window.
The railing on the second floor shook!
Mo Zhengxing emerged from the back hall and looked calmly at Chen Xiao. "May I ask who you are, sir?"
Chen Xiao said proudly, "West River Gang, Chen Xiao!"
At the West River Gang's name, a stir ran through the crowd below.
Mo Zhengxing narrowed his eyes. He naturally knew the West River Gang's name; it was one of the strongest local powers.
Though he had anticipated possible conflict with the local powers, he hadn't expected it so soon, or that they would run into the fiercest one right off the bat!
"So it's the second-in-command."
Mo Zhengxing cupped his hands toward Chen Xiao. "The contests at my Fist Academy have always been different from others. The gloves are meant to keep the fighters from getting hurt as badly, so everyone can see more bouts. Whatever form a contest takes, a contest people enjoy watching is a good one!"
Neither servile nor overbearing, he also used his internal skill to project his words.
The vast majority of those present actually agreed with him.
They didn't care whether the fighters wore gloves or what the exact rules were, as long as the bouts were entertaining and satisfying to watch.
But cowed by the West River Gang's fearsome reputation, no one dared make a sound.
"Cut the fucking crap!"
Chen Xiao's eagle-like claws gripped the railing, and the fir wood groaned. "Today, you either shut down and get lost, or..."
He jerked his head, and the man behind him whose hands reached his knees stepped forward. "Let everyone see some real skill!"
Chen Xiao had never come to reason with them tonight.
Mo Zhengxing's expression shifted. He also knew that words alone were useless.
"Then name your terms, Second Master. My Fist Academy accepts!"
Mo Zhengxing called out.
His resolute words won him considerable goodwill, and many people silently cheered him on.
"Good!"
Chen Xiao smiled and pointed at the man beside him. "Send someone into the ring to fight my man barehanded. There are no restrictions. Whoever's still standing in the ring at the end wins."
Mo Zhengxing said, "What if we win? And what if we lose?"