The referee entered the ring, the two fighters exchanged friendly greetings, and with the sound of the whistle, the boxing match began.
In the first round, both fighters were cautious and tentative, but sensing the black fighter's explosiveness and agility, Lao Gui increased the speed of his punches.
The attacker landed a powerful blow to the Black player's face and chest, gaining the upper hand and scoring a point.
In the second round, Lao Gui continued his fast, ruthless, and fierce fighting style, but Yan Zheng's brows began to furrow slightly.
The Black athlete was more agile this round than in the previous one, dodging was very precise, and he was even able to launch a successful sneak attack.
In the third round, Lao Gui was already at a disadvantage. The black fighter had clearly mastered Lao Gui's footwork and movements, and Lao Gui had begun to defend himself.
In the fourth round, the black fighter began to weaken Lao Gui's stamina and undermine his confidence, punching him repeatedly until he was almost unrecognizable.
The referee went up and pulled the black player away, asking Lao Gui if he could continue. Lao Gui's eyes were already closed, but he still stubbornly nodded.
Finally, after enduring three minutes of the fourth round, during the break, Yan Zheng wanted to go up and make Lao Gui admit defeat, but the translator stood in front of Yan Zheng and waved the contract.
Yan Zheng felt a little down. This kind of underground boxing wasn't something you could just give up and stop. They would beat you until you couldn't get up, and they wouldn't hesitate to kill you.
Because this is not just a competition, but gambling, a game of risking your life for money. If you want to break the contract, you might as well just die in battle.
In the fifth round, Yan Zheng closed his eyes and listened to the battle between Lao Gui and the black fighter, the sounds of blows hitting flesh, the sounds of running and jumping, and the sounds of each landing and dodge.
Yan Zheng's ears were constantly twitching; he had already used the skills he had learned in the army to fight in the field, listening to the wind, the rain, and the details.
My mind also conjured up images of the two fighting, punching and kicking, etc., and how kicking is allowed in underground boxing.
Yan Zheng closed his eyes even tighter. This black athlete had some martial arts skills and kicked Lao Gui right in the face.
Old Gui hadn't expected the other party to use their foot. His eyes were already swollen shut, and after being kicked in the face, he fell backward.
As he lay on the ground, he suddenly felt a weight on his body. It turned out that the black athlete had pressed all his weight onto him, rendering him unable to move.
The referee's counting voice rang in his ears: "One, two, shree, four, five..."
At the same time, the boss shouted in his ear: "Stand up!"
Old Ghost bit his tongue, grabbed the black athlete's head, and pressed down hard on one of the athlete's shoulders.
Before the Black athlete could react, the referee's counting rang in his ears: "One, two, shree, four, five, six..."
The Black athlete put all his strength into struggling, and eventually the two of them rolled around. The referee had no choice but to call it a minute's break.
It was the final round. Yan Zheng stood up. He wanted to go to the front of the stage to cheer. Even if Lao Gui lost, as long as he heard his voice, he would definitely stick with him until the end.
Sure enough, the black fighter started with a reckless fighting style, while Lao Gui's stamina was basically exhausted, and his punches were weak.
Although three minutes may seem short, it felt like an eternity to Lao Gui, who was completely getting beaten up on stage.
Yan Zheng spoke up: "Brother, there's one minute left. Hang in there. You may lose, but you can't lose your life."
Upon hearing Yan Zheng's voice, Lao Gui's spirits lifted. He realized that his skills were only above average, while Yan Zheng was truly number one.
One minute had passed, but the referee still hadn't called a stop. Yan Zheng was furious and pointed at the referee, yelling, "You dog! If my brother dies because of you, I'll make you pay with your life!"
The translator relayed the stern words to the boss, who frowned and nodded silently. The referee quickly stopped the enraged black athlete and raised his hand.
Yan Zheng jumped onto the competition platform and nudged Lao Gui: "Brother, can you still get up?"
Old Ghost took a deep breath, but trembled all over in pain; breathing really could hurt.
With Yan Zheng's help, Lao Gui stood up. Yan Zheng pointed at the translator and told him to come over. The translator glanced at the boss and quickly ran over.
Yan Zheng simply said, "Tell your boss that if you win the first match, he'll help me cure him; if you win the second match, he'll give me two identity documents."
The translator raised an eyebrow, quickly ran downstairs, whispered a few words in the boss's ear, and the boss laughed heartily: "Chinese people, indeed, value relationships."
With a wave of his hand, two people went up and helped the old ghost down. Yan Zheng watched the old ghost's back, his fists clenched.
The boss whispered a few words in the translator's ear, and the translator nodded quickly, took the card to place a bet, and the number on the card matched the number on Yan Zheng's body.
Yan Zheng's opponent this time was a white player with a fair and handsome face and a pair of bright blue eyes.
They wouldn't use their looks to deceive their opponents and then take advantage of their carelessness to win in one fell swoop.
Yan Zheng imagined such a scenario, and it was because of this imagination that Yan Zheng felt at ease.
Only those who lack strength would try to act cute at the start of a battle. Yan Zheng laughed, a truly radiant laugh.
The white athlete was bewildered by Yan Zheng's laughter. Had his attempt to act cute been successful? If so, then he should blink his eyes more frequently.
After exchanging greetings, Yan Zheng moved as soon as the referee blew his whistle. He didn't give his opponent a chance to probe and punched him directly in the eye.
They delivered seven or eight consecutive blows to the person trying to act cute, leaving them with no choice but to cover their face with their hands.
However, the blows landed on his chest and side, forcing him to stumble backward until he collapsed onto the ropes, completely unable to muster any strength.
The white athlete finally realized what Yan Zheng's smile meant; his attempt to act cute had failed him.
For five consecutive rounds, Yan Zheng steadily gained the upper hand. He didn't want to go all out; life was hard-won, and they weren't true mortal enemies.
In the final round, Yan Zheng still focused on critical hits, but the force of his attacks was noticeably weaker, although he still looked formidable.
One reason is that I still have another match to play and need to conserve my energy; the other is that the white players are basically powerless to fight back.
Three minutes had passed, but the referee resorted to his old tricks again. Yan Zheng gritted his teeth and rushed forward, lifting the referee up and about to throw him off the stage.
Seeing that things were not going well, the referee quickly grabbed Yan Zheng's hand and raised it high. The boss and the white player's boss exchanged a glance and then looked away.
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