Police officer Chen Shu

Chapter 810 The Knight's Knighthood (Part Two)

On the coffee table in front of the sofa, there was a bundle of red banknotes tied with white ribbons. The banknotes were still new, and the smell of ink was unseen but clearly perceptible.

The skinny man glanced at the money on the coffee table, then looked at the bald fat man without saying a word.

The young man's silence aroused his inexplicable curiosity. The bonus of ten thousand yuan was nothing to him, but for these people who had fallen so low that they had to fight in underground boxing matches, it should have the effect of a stimulant.

The bald, fat man tapped the monitor with the finger holding a thin cigar and laughed, "You played very well. Look, people are cheering for you."

The skinny guy glanced at it.

The massive 49-inch ultrawide monitor displayed live footage from a dozen or so video surveillance cameras above the boxing gym. Even after the match was over, people remained gathered in small groups, drinking, singing, and even shouting insults.

Some people were so agitated that they even picked up their bottles and smashed them on the ground.

The scene was chaotic and disorganized, but the skinny man's gaze only lingered on the monitor of the boxing ring for a moment before he looked away.

The man he had knocked down was still wearing those thin, blue boxing gloves, lying alone on the boxing ring, motionless, with some extra items on his body.

The lighter the boxing gloves, the stronger their penetrating power, and the more likely they are to kill someone.

"Young man, for your first time boxing, that's quite impressive." The bald fat man laughed heartily, patting the skinny man on the shoulder. "That groin kick of yours was truly decisive, and the follow-up headbutt was also excellent. I can almost hear the sound of that kid Dogg's nose breaking as I sit here. Hey, I thought you were going to lose."

"Boss, Dogg's jaw is broken," the young man standing behind the bald, fat man reminded him with a light laugh.

"Chin? Haha, a chin can break? Not bad, not bad, it's good that it's broken, otherwise there wouldn't be much to see in this match." The bald fat man chuckled, not caring at all whether it was the nose or the chin, the important thing was that it was broken.

The skinny guy sighed inwardly. At that moment, he was actually a little scared. He even thought he was going to be beaten to death. In desperation, he even used a kick to the groin.

Perhaps he had been so caught off guard by the previous blows that his opponent had become complacent in his defense, or perhaps he thought the game was over. As a result, the skinny guy, who had recovered, suddenly kicked him in the groin, crippling him completely.

The skinny man seized the opportunity. Taking advantage of the moment when the other man was in pain and stiff, he bent down slightly and used the top of his head as a hammer to directly hit the other man's exposed nose, his big nose.

The blood from his nose sprayed into the air with a "whoosh."

"He stood here for over a month. You beat him, very good, really very good. It's just that the result was a bit disappointing." As he finished speaking, a shadow of gloom flashed in the bald fat man's small, smiling eyes: those gamblers who lost everything had nowhere to vent their anger without broken arms and legs.

The skinny man didn't speak, but his eyes finally turned to the purpose of his participation in the competition: the cash on the coffee table.

The bald, fat man keenly noticed the change in the young man opposite him. He laughed heartily and stuffed ten thousand yuan in cash into the skinny man's arms.

The skinny man hesitated for a moment before accepting it; it was what he deserved. As he opened the door to leave, the boxing gym owner's tempting voice came from inside.

"Next Wednesday night, someone from Shuitou is coming over for a sparring match, unarmed, commission-based. Are you coming?"

Two common ways underground boxers make money.

The first type is similar to tonight's match pay, where you get paid for each match you fight, or for two matches you get paid for both. This type of prize money isn't high, but neither boxer will go all out; at most, there will be injuries, but rarely anyone will die.

The second type is commission, where the boxer's income is directly linked to the bookmaker's odds, and the income is far higher than a salary system. Because gambling is involved, there is a possibility of fixed fights, but the vast majority are fights to the death, with a very high rate of maiming and death.

"Ahem, the bonus and appearance fee will still be paid, um, doubled."

Seeing that the silent, skinny man was about to leave the office, the bald, fat man decisively said, "Even if you lose, you still get paid, 5000!" His right hand, which was gripping the doorknob, tightened involuntarily. After a long while, a muffled reply came.

Stepping out of the boxing gym, the street was pitch black. Due to its narrow location, the alley was neither clean nor bright, except for a few dim streetlights.

For some reason, the streetlight, which was not very bright to begin with, shone directly on the skinny man's face, making him dizzy.

The skinny guy habitually found a corner spot and squatted down. In the dark, he stared silently at the entrance of the boxing gym with his eyes, which were red and purple from being beaten.

Next to the main entrance was a small gatehouse with a staff member sitting inside. After the guests came out, they retrieved their cell phones, which they had temporarily stored inside when they entered the boxing gym, by showing their wristbands.

After a long time had passed and all the guests and staff had left, the skinny man still hadn't seen the middle-aged man who had been defeated by his fists.

I originally thought that the guys who opened the ring would at least throw that guy onto the street, just like in the movies, where two people lie down and throw the battered loser out of the boxing gym at the last minute before closing time.

The skinny man thought for a moment, then got up and walked to the entrance of the boxing gym. He pushed the iron gate, and the rattling of the large iron lock made a bit of a noise in the middle of the night, but no one cared.

With a strong pull, the gap between the two doors was large enough for the skinny man to lean out and squeeze in.

He went to the boxing ring with practiced ease. The middle-aged man was still lying on it. The skinny man checked the man's breathing and finally felt relieved.

The skinny man gave a soft shout and dragged the man to the entrance of the boxing gym. The iron gate was locked, and they couldn't get out.

With a determined look, he grabbed the dusty fire axe that was lying in the corner behind the door and smashed the rusty door open with a few bangs.

As soon as the door opened, a night breeze blew in.

Feeling much better after holding in anger all night, the skinny guy felt much better.

You can't just leave someone at the entrance of the boxing gym. Who knows, the guys running the gym might feel they've exposed their location and just deal with the middle-aged man or abandon him.

The skinny guy was conflicted. He had just been beaten like a punching bag by this person that night, and now he couldn't bear the guilt, so he dragged the person to the side of the road.

He rubbed his still sore shoulders, gave a wry smile, and finally dragged the person out of the alley. Just in case, he deliberately dragged him a little further from the alley entrance, then gently put him down and leaned him against the wall.

The skinny man took out his phone, glanced at the house number at the intersection, and immediately called the police, saying that someone had fainted on the roadside and looked like they were seriously injured, and he hoped they could come as soon as possible.

"Officer, I have another lead to report."

As he spoke, he glanced at the underground boxing gym hidden in the alley and ultimately decided not to report her.

After hanging up the phone, the skinny man lowered his head and thought for a moment. He then took out the cash he had taken from the bald fat man, pulled out a thousand or eight hundred yuan, and stuffed it into the middle-aged man's shorts.

Having done all this, he seemed to be freed from the oppressive atmosphere of the black market boxing, glanced at the still unconscious middle-aged man, and left.

After walking a distance, I turned back and glanced at the alley entrance. It was quiet and peaceful, as if nothing had happened.

After waiting a while, the distant wail of police sirens sounded, and the skinny man breathed a sigh of relief, finally able to leave with renewed vigor.

(End of this chapter)