Chapter Thirty: The Admission Ticket

The driver seemed long accustomed to corpses. After offering a word of praise to Song Ren, he gestured toward the distance. Not far away, two men in suits approached simultaneously. With practiced efficiency, they stuffed the mangled body into a body bag and, without a word, hauled it away.

The driver, having gotten a clearer look, couldn't help but whistle, eyeing Song Ren up and down. "Tsk, tsk. Wouldn't have guessed it. You're quite something—to beat a man into that state with your bare hands. You’ve got talent."

Song Ren jumped down from the shipping container, only then noticing the silent, desolate wilderness surrounding them. Not far ahead stood a rather large villa. Its interior was brightly lit, shining like a pair of eyes wide open in the wilderness. Several paths led toward it, each guarded by two men in suits. A brief glance was enough for Song Ren to judge that these men were likely well-trained experts carrying concealed firearms. By their posture, they appeared to be security guards or bodyguards.

The driver clicked on a flashlight and spoke again, "Follow me."

Lu Zhengyang finally couldn't hold back anymore. "Where are we going?" he asked. "Weren't we supposed to participate in the underground boxing matches at the Fushang Building? Where is this? Why bring us here?"

The driver stopped and looked back. "You didn't think the top-tier matches were something you could just walk into, did you? Even if you are death-row inmates from Stanley Prison, don't dream of entering without a ticket. No one supports an unknown challenger. You still lack a stage to truly showcase yourselves to the big spenders—that is, an entry ticket to the top-tier ring."

Having said this, the driver prepared to lead them away. Just then, two men in suits emerged from a side path. One of them called out, "Wait."

The driver frowned. "What is it?"

The two men walked over, bypassed the driver, and stood directly before Song Ren.

"Something you need?" Song Ren asked.

No sooner had he spoken than one of them seized his shoulders by surprise. The next moment, the man forced his body down while delivering a violent knee strike. Song Ren’s expression shifted, but his reaction was swift. He used his elbow to block the knee, only to be struck by a heavy, forceful kick to his chest from the other man.

He stumbled back three or four steps, and when he finally steadied himself, his chest felt as if it were on fire. A stifling sensation gripped his lungs; that kick had been truly merciless. Beneath his lowered eyelids, a murderous glint flickered. Just as he prepared to retaliate, the driver barked, "Stop it! Zheng Qizhi, what are you brothers doing?"

Song Ren halted, his face dark and unreadable. The two men in suits had already backed off. Only up close could one see that their features were identical; they were twins.

Zheng Qizhi adjusted his cuffs. "It’s Mr. Guo’s intention. This guy killed one of the candidates he bought from Stanley Prison without authorization. Mr. Guo wanted us to come over and say hello, to get to know each other."

The other brother wiped the sole of his shoe, as if disgusted by what he had just kicked. "We were just helping him warm up. Surely that doesn't break any rules."

The driver’s face was grim. "This once, and never again."

The Zheng brothers exchanged a glance, chuckled, and turned to leave, never bothering to look at Song Ren again.

Song Ren watched their retreating backs, his eyes cold. "Who were those two?" he asked softly.

The driver glanced at him. "Zheng Qizhi and Zheng Qixiong. They are Mr. Guo’s personal bodyguards. Mr. Guo is one of the VIPs for the top-tier matches. You’d best not take that kick to heart—just consider it a bite from a dog. This level of incident doesn't count as breaking the rules, and it’s not convenient for us to interfere."

Song Ren made no comment, merely memorizing the twins' names in his mind.

...

Inside the detached villa, a large wall in the main hall was covered with LCD screens displaying surveillance footage. Six impeccably dressed men and women sat in the room. Any one of them, if placed outside, would be a figure capable of shaking the foundations of the city.

There was Guo Can, the appliance king; Liu Jinxiong of the steel industry; Luo Youyi, a leader in shipbuilding; and real estate tycoon Xu Jiaqi. The two women were Tong Peipei, the widow of the late newspaper magnate Wen Zhaoren, and Zhu Bao'er, daughter of the legendary Sir Zhu.

The six of them sat in the hall, leisurely sipping red wine. In the corners of the room, security personnel in suits stood silently in the shadows. It is often said that the wealthier people become, the more perverse they grow, and there is, in truth, some merit to this. Money satisfies most material desires, so the wealthy inevitably develop specific psychological fixations, especially for things that stimulate their hormones—such as bloody, violent underground boxing.

They wouldn't personally step into the ring to taste the adrenaline as Song Ren did, but that didn't stop them from deriving unprecedented excitement from it. It was precisely because of the attention of these big spenders that the underground matches at the Fushang Building flourished. The lower and middle levels relied on bets and brawls to draw attention, while the upper and top levels used high-stakes death matches and weapon duels to keep the big spenders invested.

Even powerful VIPs occasionally graced the place. This was the main reason the Fushang Building could remain in business; its existence was tied to too many interests and high-level concerns. To take down a place like the Fushang Building without the intervention of the most powerful figures would be nearly impossible.

At that moment, the appliance king, Guo Can, sat on the sofa, drinking with a gloomy expression. He had barely finished half his glass before he smashed it to the floor, his face filled with suppressed rage.

"What a waste of space. He died on the way here before he could even step into the ring. And I actually thought that serial dismemberer from back then was something special."

Was that it? Damn it!

As a top-tier VIP of the Fushang Building, a big spender like Guo Can always selected a few challengers he had his eye on. For this round, he had chosen three: the Muay Thai master Basong, the karate expert Shinkawa Tatsuya from the East, and finally, the dismemberment killer Xu Shao, whom he had specifically picked from the list of death-row inmates at Stanley Prison.

He had come today to see just how fierce this particular card in his hand really was. Instead of seeing the killer's ferocity, he had seen the killer himself dead. The money lost was trivial; the real issue was the loss of face in his social circle.