Chapter 83: The Underground Arena (V)

Just as the images of Tan Xue and the other woman appeared on the television, in another room, a man who looked young from behind, was lounging in a massive armchair. He frowned, snuffed out his cigar in the ashtray before him, and beckoned to someone behind him.

"Young master, do you need something?"

A man dressed in a thin black suit approached and bent down close to him.

"What’s going on?" The young man pointed at the TV screen, at the somewhat frightened Tan Xue and Li Youlan.

"Oh, those are two women who want to be Red Labels. Probably for the money, but I’m not too sure. They’re certainly seductive, heh heh!"

"Idiot!" The young man slapped the obsequious black-suited man so hard that the man's grin twisted into a grimace. "Tell them outside the Red Label is canceled."

Viyata’s knees were trained through countless bouts with tree stumps, as hard as steel. If he pressed down now, Liu Tian would be as good as dead.

At that very moment, a sudden figure appeared. As Viyata descended, a foot landed sharply on his lower back, redirecting his movement entirely.

Viyata, after all, was skilled in martial arts. He rolled on the ground to steady himself, but did not get up. Supporting himself with one hand, he lifted his head and fixed his eagle-like eyes coldly on the newcomer.

The man was not very old—perhaps twenty-five or twenty-six—dressed in a tailored suit with an elegant but unfamiliar watch on his wrist. He was slightly lean but not frail, his cropped hair neat, and although handsome, he bore none of that soft, pampered air. He stood there, face clouded with irritation. It was Chu Dong, who had been dragged here straight from work.

At that moment, the gong sounded, marking the official end of the match. Someone came up to carry away the unconscious Liu Tian for medical attention.

"Name!" Viyata spoke in halting but understandable Chinese.

"Your grandpa," Chu Dong spat. If not for the man's formidable skills, Chu Dong would have spat mouthwash straight in his face. Internal squabbles among countrymen were one thing, but a foreigner coming here to bully his people was intolerable.

"Grandpa?" Viyata repeated in his strange accent, rolling his eyes.

"That’s right, be a good nephew and say it again," Chu Dong grinned, utterly unruffled by the looming danger.

"Die!" Viyata's Chinese was even worse than his English, but he wasn’t stupid—he knew Chu Dong was mocking him, even if he couldn't articulate it. Letting out a strange cry, he charged at Chu Dong.

"Wait a minute," Chu Dong had barely made his entrance when, in the other room, the young man watching the screen stopped the black-suited man, who was still clutching his face. "This just got interesting. Stay for now; don’t go out."

Fight?

As if he could win. That cocky Liu Tian had nearly been beaten to death; if Chu Dong tried, he’d just add another tragedy to the pile.

Run?

The four ropes weren’t an issue, but the people outside were. Besides, Chu Dong doubted he could outrun his opponent.

In his desperation, he reached out his hand and shouted, "Stop!"

Viyata, having already locked onto Chu Dong, wasn’t worried about him running. He was already gathering strength, but Chu Dong's shout made him freeze, stifling the punch so hard it nearly made him cough up blood.

"Speak," Viyata managed, one word at a time.

"There are many kinds of martial arts, you know?" Chu Dong gestured as he spoke.

Viyata thought for a moment and nodded.

"You know about 'listening to the wind to find your target'?" Chu Dong closed his eyes and suddenly threw a punch.

Viyata scratched his head, not really understanding.

"I mean, we both fight with our eyes closed, okay?" The foreigner was remarkably dense—if his Chinese wasn’t enough, even sign language didn’t help. Chu Dong was getting exasperated.

"Oh, I get it." Viyata finally understood, nodding with a smile. In his mind, he thought, "With your skills, I could kill you easily, as long as you don’t run."

"Fine, we’ll fight like this to show our abilities. I’ll close my eyes first." Chu Dong closed his eyes, took a few steps, then turned and stood in place.

"Interesting," Viyata grinned, showing his white teeth as he imitated Chu Dong and closed his eyes.

"Good. Begin." Chu Dong called out, squinting through a narrow slit in his eyes to watch Viyata slowly approach. He was amused—this guy was truly gullible. If he’d challenged Viyata to a contest of self-destruction earlier, the man would probably be a eunuch by now.

He unbuttoned his jacket, took it off, and held it in his hand, keeping his eyes on the approaching Viyata.

Around them, the crowd roared wildly. As long as there was a spectacle, they were happy. Chu Dong’s dramatic entrance had reignited the patriotic fervor that had only just begun to subside. The distance wasn’t far, but no one could make out what Chu Dong and Viyata were saying; they just saw Chu Dong gesturing for ages before Viyata closed his eyes.

The gong sounded, and even the organizers didn’t have time to open the betting again—the fight had begun.

Chu Dong stood still. When Viyata was within two meters, he flicked his jacket aside.

Viyata’s skills were the real deal—his reaction was lightning fast. Before Chu Dong’s jacket hit the ground, Viyata leapt up and kicked it into the air. At the same time, he realized he’d been duped. Movement meant someone was nearby, but wearing only shorts, he never imagined Chu Dong would use such a trick. Landing, Viyata quickly threw a few punches around himself, wary of an ambush.

Unexpectedly, Chu Dong hadn’t moved at all. He waited until Viyata, after a few probing kicks, was sure he was safe, then quietly shifted his feet, making not a sound.

Viyata frowned deeply. He had known where Chu Dong was just a moment ago, but after spinning in place several times, he’d lost all sense of direction. Still, he had a trump card—he flared his nostrils, sniffed hard, and smiled.

"Damn it, is his nose really that good?" Chu Dong, who’d planned an ambush, stopped in his tracks and scraped his foot on the floor, making a noise. Otherwise, the man’s sense of smell might cost him his life—this was at least a way to confuse him.

Sure enough, upon hearing the sound, Viyata lunged forward, but his distance judgment faltered because Chu Dong had quietly advanced a bit. Before Viyata could throw a punch, Chu Dong’s hands split apart, aiming directly at his eyes.

Attack first, lest Viyata realize Chu Dong hadn’t closed his eyes at all—and if he did, Chu Dong would be in real trouble. Chu Dong had already calculated everything: even if Viyata figured it out, he’d make sure he couldn’t open his eyes.

Viyata was caught completely off guard. He had never imagined that the man he saw as a mere mouse for a cat-and-mouse game could pose any threat. Agreeing to fight with eyes closed was just for extra amusement. But he paid the price for his arrogance. Chu Dong’s outstretched fingers hung in the air, and Viyata, without hearing a sound, drove his most vulnerable eyeball straight into them. Just as he was about to strike, his fists snapped back as he clutched his eye in unbearable pain.

Chu Dong’s fingers had never been trained—at most, he’d played piano for a few months. They were no harder than anyone else’s. The impact nearly sprained them. Clutching his nearly broken fingers, Chu Dong cursed, "Damn bastard, did you have to use so much force…"