Chapter 40: The Martial Artist

On the fighting stage, a host dressed in a fishnet bunny costume was introducing the details of the top-tier boxing match in an enthusiastic tone.

"Tonight's boxing match will be a trial by blood for the newcomers."

"Among all the matches, excluding weapon fights, this is the most anticipated 'Contending for the Deer' battle!"

"There will be a total of seven fighters stepping onto the stage tonight, consisting of three formidable champions who have advanced from the mid-tier ring."

"Then there are the Zheng brothers, who fought their way through the lower and mid-tier rings in just three days."

"And finally, two special fighters with 'mysterious' backgrounds!"

"As everyone knows, a Contending Battle is a seven-way melee, usually held for fresh blood entering the top-tier ring."

"The rules of the ring are very simple—the winner takes all."

"As long as you defeat the other newcomers in this match, you qualify to instantly claim five victories."

"Achieve a cumulative total of eighteen victories within twenty matches, and you can become the champion of the top-tier ring, enjoying a share of the Fushang Building's dividends."

"Currently, the only known top-tier champion is Boxing King Leung Sing."

"Tonight's Contending Battle is about to begin."

"Now, let us welcome the seven fighters of tonight's Contending Battle to the stage."

As her voice trailed off, several figures of varying heights gradually emerged from the shadows beneath the stage.

They were: Zhang Shicheng, the number five champion of the mid-tier ring, who successfully defended his title with a pair of iron fists and was known as the Iron Hand.

Baron, a black fighter who made a name for himself with Brazilian jiu-jitsu in the mid-tier ring, having snapped the bones of six opponents across ten matches, possessing a formidable ground game and holding the number eight spot.

And another champion was the number nine champion of the mid-tier ring.

Though not very tall, he was packed with muscle.

Beneath the sleeveless shirt on his right shoulder, a bulging muscle was tattooed with a black flood dragon churning the sea, its tail wrapping entirely around his upper arm.

He was also the crowd favorite of the mid-tier ring, He Ping, nicknamed the Tyrannosaurus.

It was said that this Tyrannosaurus took no more than ten rounds to beat someone down, having once reduced an opponent to a stomach hemorrhage in just three rounds, leaving him unable to even walk off the stage.

Nearly half of the audience of over a hundred for this round of the Contending Battle had come specifically to chase after him.

Aside from the three champions who chose to ascend to the top-tier ring, there were the Zheng brothers, who clean and simply fought their way straight through the lower and mid-tier rings to reach the top in one breath.

Zheng Qizhi and Zheng Qiong.

As soon as the brothers stepped onto the stage, their gazes locked onto Song Ren, their eyes brimming with blatant hostility.

Then came the two special fighters referred to as "mysterious."

Regulars of the top-tier ring basically knew that "mysterious" meant criminals, whose identities were simply inconvenient to state publicly.

Song Ren and another Muay Thai fighter, whose arms and calves were wrapped in linen bandages, successively leaped onto the boxing ring.

The seven fighters each stood in a corner.

Before the match even began, the atmosphere in the arena was already growing heated.

The Tyrannosaurus, He Ping, wiped his head and spat to the side:

"Damn it, I stayed in the mid-tier for so long without running into a single person who could actually fight."

"And yet the moment I ascend, the opponents I bump into happen to include the two of you."

Iron Hand Zhang Shicheng's face darkened. He Ping, the number nine champion of the mid-tier ring, was a well-known monster in that bracket.

If this guy hadn't been hogging the number nine ring as a gatekeeper, he would have ascended long ago.

The same went for Baron; they had both waited until the Tyrannosaurus gave up the number nine championship a few days prior and chose to ascend before they had a chance to reach the top-tier ring.

Otherwise, who knew how long they would have had to wait.

They just hadn't expected that right after ascending, their very first match would be a Contending Battle, and that monster would be among their opponents.

Including Baron, the two lower-tier champions of the mid-tier ring harbored deep resentment toward He Ping's gatekeeping antics.

Yet in a one-on-one fight, they genuinely couldn't beat this guy.

The two exchanged glances and simultaneously cast their gazes upon the Tyrannosaurus He Ping, their eyes full of profound meaning.

Aside from prohibiting weapons, a Contending Battle placed no other restrictions on the fighters, including group beatdowns.

This was precisely the main reason why a single Contending Battle could instantly grant five victories.

The difficulty was exceedingly high, while the level of bloodshed was exceptionally brutal.

The Zheng brothers had changed into close-fitting attire suitable for combat. Staring at Song Ren, they spoke with deep meaning:

"We brothers said it when we last met, didn't we?"

"We told you to wait for us, and that we'd come find you to beat you to death."

"We keep our word. We said we'd beat you to death, and we definitely will!"

"Now, we've come here to fulfill that promise."

Song Ren first swept his gaze across the entire arena before finally returning his look to the Zheng brothers.

Hearing those words, the corners of his mouth instead curled into a slight smile.

He extended his left hand toward them, then slowly straightened his index finger from his clenched fist and gently beckoned upward twice:

"Come on, then."

The Zheng brothers instantly turned crimson with rage.

Having crawled their way up from the very bottom, they had tasted too much bitterness. Only by finally attaching themselves to Master Guo did they finally get a chance to soar.

What they hated most was being looked down upon.

From their very first encounter, Song Ren's disdainful attitude had constantly mocked the two of them.

If they didn't beat him to death today, they swore they wouldn't walk this earth as men!

The final Muay Thai fighter, sensing that everyone else in the arena seemed to be ignoring him, immediately grew somewhat displeased.

He kicked off his cloth shoes, planting his bandage-wrapped feet firmly on the canvas.

He, too, carried a murder charge on his back, having fled to this place and been bought off by a wealthy backer.

The fierce tenacity in his bones was no less than anyone else's.

Standing in the top-tier ring, his standard had naturally been put to the test; there was no telling how many banana trees his legs had kicked in half.

Furthermore, Muay Thai was acclaimed as the strongest striking martial art in the standing category, also known as the art of eight limbs.

He possessed absolute confidence in his own technique.

In a slightly stiff tone, he provoked everyone: "Since the winner takes all, it seems this victory belongs to none other than me."

Upon hearing this, the hot-tempered He Ping pointed straight at his nose and cursed: "F*** your mother, you Thai bastard. Did you eat athlete's foot or something? Why does your mouth smell so bad?"

"Belong to none other than you? Once the match starts, I'll beat you right into a state of 'none other than you'!"

The Muay Thai fighter's gaze turned fierce, yet he remained silent.

He merely reached out to the others, gave a thumbs-up, rotated it around toward everyone, and then slowly turned it downward.

At that, most of the fighters on the stage glared over instantly.

This Thai bastard was far too arrogant!

Right now, the Contending Battle had not yet officially begun, but the gunpowder in the air was growing thicker by the second.

Even the audience could feel it; many of the seemingly refined onlookers could not help but tug at their slightly tight collars.

A dry-mouthed sense of anticipation had already taken hold.

Under such a scene, Song Ren was affected to a certain extent as well. Amidst the infectious emotion, he took a deep breath.

Then he steadily stepped forward.

There is a saying in Southern boxing: train your bridges hard and your stances solid, and only then can you fight a steady battle!

Previously, in Stanley Prison, he still had to restrain himself somewhat; it was impossible to unleash his full strength and beat people to death in there.

But here, on this boxing ring, he could completely let go of his restraints and act without inhibition.

Dead bodies were commonplace in the ring to begin with, let alone right here.

The Fushang Boxing Ring, renowned for its bloodshed and brutality.

Song Ren let out a long breath, the light in his eyes fading as his pitch-black pupils grew as still as stagnant water.

Martial arts was not about writing essays or calligraphy.

Displaying restraint only existed in friendly sparring sessions.

In an underground ring filled with hostility, showing mercy was undoubtedly a crime.

Song Ren silently planted his horse stance, dropping his shoulders and elbows, suppressing the surging foul air in his chest, and finally spoke calmly:

"Gentlemen, please enlighten me!"

In a VIP room on the third floor.

Tong Peipei, who had long been eagerly awaiting this Contending Battle, upon witnessing Song Ren's stance—especially the instant those few words slipped past his lips—

A certain word abruptly, and with tremendous force, slammed straight into her heart—

A martial warrior!