Dual wielding volcanoes, killing through the west

Compared to the ring fights back home, the underground boxing matches here are less pure. Although there are no strict rules here, it's actually quite rare for someone to die. But back home, once a death contract is signed, no one will hold back; if you're killed in the ring, you deserve it.

In theory, Lao Zhang is fighting a life-or-death battle every day, but he is not on the same level as the other challengers, so he seems to be handling things with ease.

Because he has seen so many, after just a few rounds, he can see through his opponent's power exertion posture and habitual movements, and then analyze the flaws.

For example, Zhang Renfeng observed that when his opponent, the blond-haired man, used a roundhouse kick and supported himself with his right leg, his body tilt was slightly different from when he supported himself with his left leg. He didn't even need to think throughout the entire process; for him, fighting was instinctive.

With a hint of smugness, he raised his head and said half-jokingly, "I'm also curious how you could not tell."

Winning the quarterfinals feels like a dream to the Chief.

Just a few days ago, he was a bottom-level boxer who had to make money by throwing fights. Suddenly, he turned his life around, went on a winning streak, and made it into the top four.

In the first few matches, he and Zhang Renfeng hadn't gelled well, and when they actually fought, his own interpretations often played a part, making each match a close call. After tasting success a few times and surviving the first round, the Chief had already switched to autopilot mode.

Just think of yourself as Zhang Renfeng's puppet. As long as you do all the actions he tells you to do, and then add a few more hits, it will be hard to lose.

Not even close.

Two more games... and $1000 will be in hand. The chief has never seen so much money in his life. Although it's still a long way from his goal of $20,000, it's at least a good start.

……

"Hey! You red-haired barbarian, stop right there!"

A somewhat unruly voice came from behind, causing the two to stop in their tracks. Turning around, they saw several henchmen, clearly Italian gang members, closing in and blocking their path.

The leader raised an eyebrow; though shorter, he asked in a disdainful tone, "Who said you could leave?"

"My match is over." The chief may have sensed the hostility in his tone, but because of his status and position, he chose to respond with a smile. "It just finished."

"The quarterfinals are over, and you're the last one in the top four, so of course you need to prepare for the next match." The leader of the underlings seemed to have been specially chosen; his eyebrows were very thick, almost forming a straight line under his forehead, which made his appearance somewhat repulsive. "Get back here now, you have five minutes to prepare."

……

Zhang Renfeng frowned. "Isn't this just going to be a series of matches? What's going on? Do you guys even know how to organize a competition? How can you finish one match and immediately schedule the next one?"

The man with the single eyebrow snorted with extreme disdain, glancing at him sideways. "Shut your mouth, you yellow-haired bastard. You have no right to speak. This is Saint Quintak, a city of civilized people. The fact that Mr. Angelo has opened up spots for you lowly people in this competition is already a great favor. You should be grateful."

"Five minutes. Fight if you want, or get lost. Consider it an automatic forfeit."

Zhang Renfeng's face darkened, and he was about to step forward when the chief spoke first, cutting him off, "Fine, I'll fight."

With a sly smile, the man with the straight eyebrows turned and left without giving the two a chance to retort.

……

"Finally, we've come to this." The chief's face was solemn, but he still managed to force a smile. "I knew it wouldn't be that easy."

Winning fairly and squarely within someone else's rules is easier said than done.

"Are you sure you want to continue? This is no joke." Zhang Renfeng's tone was very serious. "You just finished the last match, less than ten minutes ago. Your stamina hasn't recovered yet, and your reaction time will be correspondingly lower. According to the rules here, even if he beats you to death on the field, you can't say anything."

"There's no other way. I still have some strength left. I've come this far... I can't give up no matter what."

From those words, Zhang Renfeng gleaned a hint of gambler's intent, albeit with different stakes. Ultimately, however, the goal was the same: to win that enormous sum of $1000. To get to where he was today, the chief had paid a heavy price in time, effort, and a body riddled with hidden injuries; he had carried far too heavy a burden.

Even if it means gritting your teeth, you have to keep playing this game.

Zhang Renfeng had already sensed something was wrong, but it wasn't him who was actually going to the ring; it was the chief. He chose to respect the chief's decision.

"Don't go all out in the first round. It's okay if you fight ugly; just try to stall him." Zhang Renfeng didn't say anything more, just patted his shoulder and instructed, "Save all your strength for the second round, and take him down in one blow!"

----

"The exciting second match is about to begin! One side, having easily defeated their opponent in the second round, is riding high and about to enter a life-or-death battle. It's the tribal warrior from the Great Plains, the chieftain—!! Look at his broad physique, he's simply born for battle!"

"And his opponent was just determined by drawing lots. Unexpectedly, it was..."

"The reigning champion of the Santa Quintak Boxing Championship, the Cuban Crocodile—!!"

The crowd paused for a moment, then erupted into a deafening roar of cheers. Whistles, clapping, stomping—they used every means at their disposal, and the chief felt his eardrums buzzing.

The former champion naturally holds a different status in the eyes of the audience. The moment he appeared, the crowd automatically parted, and the Cuban crocodile calmly clapped with each of his fans, a contemptuous smile on his face as he looked at the chief.

He had a very well-proportioned physique and didn't seem to be the type with explosive power, but the iron rings on his ten fingers made Zhang Renfeng wary.

"First, psychological tactics...?"

The previous champion's supporters are undoubtedly more numerous than the chief has accumulated over the past few matches, so arranging for him to appear directly gives them a head start. Before the fight even begins, his momentum is already somewhat weakened.

The Cuban crocodile took off his coat, revealing a muscular physique. He closed his eyes slightly, stretched his shoulders and neck a couple of times, and gave the chief a cold smile.

"Just wait to die, Red Barbarian." He stuck out his tongue and licked his lips. "This time, even your friends can't help you."

"Is that so?" The chief gently placed the hat on the ground, still smiling as he replied, "I can only say that you don't know him very well yet."

Chapter 238: It's not that I want to participate, it's that...

"Coward, stop running!!"

"We paid money not to watch you dance, do we have to wait until the next round to really fight?!"

"Go ahead and hit him, you red devil! I've bet my entire $10 on you!"

……

Cuban Crocodile truly lives up to its name, resembling a ferocious crocodile, delivering an extremely powerful aerial spinning kick.

The chieftain couldn't dodge completely; his cheek was instantly grazed by a heel, leaving a bloody gash. Angry or bloodthirsty expressions flashed across his vision, and a barrage of curses assaulted his senses, but he inwardly groaned.

In terms of tracking, hunting, and archery, he is indeed a master among men, but hand-to-hand combat is not his forte. At his current level, reaching the round of 16 would be about enough; any higher would be against professionals who would not lose to an amateur.

Even if Zhang Renfeng could ensure that he could see through his opponent's weaknesses and devise a brilliant tactic within one round, he would still need the stamina to execute it in the second round. At this moment, the chieftain simply didn't have the extra stamina to exchange blows with him and could only retreat and stall for time. Even so, the Cuban Crocodile's attacks were still extremely fierce, and he couldn't avoid many of Zhang Renfeng's knees and elbows.

Grit your teeth and tough it out!

Perhaps it was just my imagination, but this round felt like an eternity, incredibly long and agonizing.

"Hold on...it's almost over, hold on!"

His inner voice cried out, and after what seemed like an eternity, he finally saw the host raise his hand and slowly raise his gun.

"boom!"

In these barbaric times, there are no bells in the boxing ring; the sound of gunfire is the only sound. The chief breathed a sigh of relief. The first round was finally over. Thanks to his efforts, his stamina had been depleted less than expected, and he was in good condition. He could sound the horn for a counterattack in the second round.

He subconsciously relaxed his stance.

"Thump—!!"

A vicious punch suddenly came from the side and struck his unguarded temple.

“…Buzz…”

Suddenly, a buzzing sound came from his ears. For a fleeting moment, the chief's consciousness was disconnected and detached from his body. When he reconnected, he only saw the ground slowly approaching him. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't feel his lips or tongue. All he could hear was the whistling wind and the mocking smile on the face of the Cuban crocodile that flashed through his vision.

The hard, cold stone pavement struck his jaw.

"oh-----!!"

The next moment, the crowd erupted in a tsunami of cheers, celebrating their champion's latest victory. The Cuban crocodile, meanwhile, calmly raised his hands, a smile on his face, accepting the cheers and congratulations. The host secretly breathed a sigh of relief, took the Cuban crocodile's right hand, and prepared to announce the winner of this round.

No one paid any attention to the chief lying on the ground. In such situations, no one cares about the mental and physical well-being of the defeated.

Except for one person.

"Wait a moment----!!"

Zhang Renfeng slightly used his inner energy to instantly drown out the cheers of the hundred or so people. He slowly stepped forward, breaking away from the crowd, and questioned, "Is your cheering so worthless? For a cheater who broke the rules?!"

"This guy! He attacked right after the gunshot rang out, throwing that punch. He sneakily attacked his opponent when he had already heard the gunshot, lowered his stance, and stopped defending!"

"We just finished the quarterfinals and didn't even have ten minutes of rest before being forced to play a series of matches against you, and then resorting to such despicable means to win. Is such a dirty victory something you should be proud of?"

The Cuban crocodile stood not far away, hands in his pockets, watching Zhang Renfeng raise his arms and shout as if he were a joke. In response to his questioning, he first picked at his ear, then spat at him, revealing his teeth and laughing with utter contempt.

He smiled, and his loyal followers followed suit, laughing along with him.

"Get out of here, you yellow-skinned bastard, get the hell away from me!"

"Who do you think you are to criticize the champion?!"

"We didn't see him cheat at all, you're talking nonsense!"

……

Even before the Cuban crocodile could speak, the people's gazes towards him were filled with disgust and impatience, and some even spoke up to defend their champion. In that instant, Zhang Renfeng understood: they only wanted to celebrate the champion's victory, and they didn't care much about other things, such as whether the victory was clean or whether the attack occurred before or after the shooting.

……

"Ha...haha..." Pete shook his head upon seeing this, chuckled twice, and whispered to the cashier beside him in a slightly boastful tone, "See? What's the use of being able to play? We created the chessboard, so naturally we set the rules."

“I see… These long-time viewers have all placed heavy bets on the champion. In a sense, it’s only beneficial for them if the champion wins.” The cashier suddenly realized, “Simply sending the Cuban crocodile to fight him is such a brilliant move.”

"Who can stand being pointed at and cursed like that by a foreigner? Even if they saw the Cuban crocodile breaking the rules, they'd say they didn't." Seeing that the situation was under control, Pete took another big bite of apple, crunching loudly, and waved his hand. "It's time for this farce to end."

----

"Get lost, you yellow-haired bastard, and bring your lousy boxer with you." The man with the single eyebrow led several thugs, slowly flanking them from the side. "Nobody wants to listen to your nonsense anymore. If you dare utter another word, I'll smash all your teeth and make you swallow them!"

"We still have another game to play, so get out of here!"

"Get back!"

"Get back!"

"Get back!"

……

At first, one or two scattered leaders shouted, but it quickly spread and became a collective shout from everyone in the crowd.

Pete has been running underground boxing matches for years; these matches are inherently exciting and infuriating. Nothing is easier than manipulating an excited crowd; just get them started, and they'll naturally follow suit, becoming his mouthpieces.

From the players to the referees to the audience, they're all my people. Why should you play with me?

Amidst a chorus of curses, Zhang Renfeng hoisted the chief onto his back and placed him on an open ground not far away. He slowly stood up, looked at the Cuban crocodile, and said, "I demand a rematch."

"Hahahahaha——!!!"

Everyone laughed, but this time, Zhang Renfeng also laughed, a pure laugh without a trace of extra emotion.

"What rematch? You're not even qualified." The man with the single eyebrow raised the corner of his mouth, looking at him with the eyes of someone looking at an idiot. "From now on, Mr. Pete has changed the rules. This is a competition to select the hero of this city. Someone like you, an ungrateful wretch, has no right to participate in the boxing match!"

In the crowd, Pete, confident of victory, raised his glass and, quite sarcastically, toasted Zhang Renfeng.

“It’s alright,” Zhang Renfeng said calmly. “I’m not the one participating.”

"Who's participating?" the one-browed man sneered. "Do you have any other friends with different skins?"

----

"Thump—!!!"

With one step, the earth cracked open.

Zhang Renfeng channeled the force into his heels, stomping his foot so hard that it created a spiderweb of cracks in the stone-paved ground, instantly silencing the shouting crowd. He bent down, his ten fingers like hooks, and clamped down on a huge boulder, his arm muscles taut, holding it firmly in place.

"it."

Lower your waist.

Shoulder up.

Throw it!

"boom----!!!"

The contestant drew an arc in the air and smashed the Cuban crocodile into a pulp.

Chapter 239: I'm not a chess player, I'm a boxer!

The mockery on people's faces turned into fear. Seeing this scene, there are probably very few people in the world who could remain unafraid.

Zhang Renfeng sighed inwardly: This was the result he wanted to achieve from the very beginning.

He stormed into the place, displayed his strength, caused a ruckus, attracted Skinny Pete, and then pried information about Angelo out of him. He knew this routine all too well, because he had already done it once in Scar Village, where he had given the tavern staff a good beating in order to lure Tuku out as quickly as possible.

Seeing the chief making money by fixing fights, Zhang Renfeng had an idea and chose a relatively gentler approach. For him now, with other paths to take, the Pete connection wasn't that important anymore; he was only staying at the venue to give the chief a helping hand.

Unexpectedly, things still turned out this way in the end.

Everyone says all roads lead to Rome. Zhang Renfeng didn't know where Rome was, but he was sure it wasn't the way to get there.