Chapter Forty-Five: A String of Upsets

On one side, a lumbering elephant charged headlong; on the other, a nimble little mouse waited for its chance to break free. The small man stomped his foot heavily on the iron cage behind him, borrowing the force to hurl himself forward at full speed.

It was like a dump truck on the highway ramming into a small hatchback—everyone watching assumed there could be no suspense about the outcome.

Yet, just as the two bodies were about to collide, something unexpected happened. The little man suddenly slid low, his slight frame swiftly slipping between the big man’s legs, darting right through the gap beneath his opponent’s crotch. Not only that, but as he escaped, he seized the opportunity to reach up with his left hand and grab.

A sharp, cracking sound, like eggshells breaking, echoed through the cage, making the would-be rescuers outside clench in sympathetic pain.

By the time the little man somersaulted back to his feet, the burly opponent had already crashed heavily into the iron bars behind. His face twisted in agony, drool streaming uncontrollably from his lips, his massive body convulsing as if electrified. The result was obvious: with a single, decisive move at the critical moment, the little man had turned the tables completely.

This outcome stunned everyone, especially those who had just bet on his victory—they leapt from the stands, cheering ecstatically.

“He… he actually won…”

“What did you expect? In a fight to the death, victory and defeat are often decided in an instant. Trading blows like sparring partners—those people never truly intend to kill.”

“Third Brother, are you saying this kid came here to kill?”

Sun Fugui was clearly surprised—people really couldn’t be judged by appearances.

“I was speaking figuratively, but that kid certainly has a ruthless streak in him…”

What Feng Jingzhe did not say was that, from the moment he first saw the boy in the ring, he felt a strange sense of familiarity. In his past life at the orphanage, he’d had a companion who radiated the same fierce energy. That boy had once stabbed the headmaster and ended up in juvenile detention. Later, Feng Jingzhe joined the army, but never managed to find out what happened to him. Years later, he learned the boy had been sentenced to death for murder—and the victim was none other than the former orphanage headmaster. The reason: several girls in the orphanage had been found to have suffered abuse, and the late headmaster was the prime suspect.

But that was a story for another time. After this first deadly bout, more and more people began to place their bets. This time, though, the wagers were not all on the small man; from the second round on, bets could be placed on either fighter.

Now, facing off in the ring with the little man was a tall, well-built youth whose muscles were evenly defined—a disciple from one of the city’s martial arts academies, by the look of him.

Many fighters at the gambling house were students from the various academies of Chang’an. As the saying went: “The poor study, the rich practice martial arts.” In these times, those who could afford martial training usually came from well-off families. They fought here both to gain real combat experience and to earn some extra cash.

Of course, some poor youths fought as well, forced to risk their blood and sweat just to continue their martial studies.

Both the tall and the short man were cautious, especially after witnessing the previous match. The tall youth no longer dared to underestimate his opponent.

With a forward stance and a straight punch, the tall one finally struck first, knowing that the longer he waited, the more time his adversary would have to recover. The little man, still avoiding a frontal clash, moved with agile footwork, adopting a hit-and-run strategy—the optimal choice for now.

A sweeping kick lashed out. The little man dodged again, but before he could regain his footing, a hook from the tall youth came flying at him. With no other choice, he raised his arms to shield his head and took the blow head-on.

The difference in strength became immediately apparent.

A single, seemingly ordinary hook sent the little man staggering. Even his once-nimble steps faltered.

“Hm… this isn’t right…” Feng Jingzhe seemed to realize something and sighed inwardly.

Sure enough, emboldened by his success, the tall youth pressed his advantage with a downward elbow strike. The slight little man, already much smaller and weaker, was knocked flat on the floor, his arms already bruised and nearly useless.

“A perfect chance…”

Seeing this, the tall youth was overjoyed, not allowing his opponent a moment to catch his breath.

He raised his leg, ready to smash down on the little man’s chest. His master had always warned him: in sparring, hold back your moves but not your strength—let alone in a real fight like this. If that kick landed, the little man’s ribs would surely be shattered.

The heavy leg came down. Instead of rolling aside as expected, the little man crossed his arms protectively over his chest.

“Heh… Let me break your hands first—then we’ll see how you surrender…”

With a sickening crunch, the tall youth’s heel came down hard on the little man’s arms, the sound of splintering bone echoing in the air. The small body arched reflexively in pain.

“Still not giving up? Don’t blame me, then…”

The tall youth raised his foot for another stomp, but in that instant, the little man, seemingly too weak to resist, clamped the youth’s leg tightly in his armpit. The sudden resistance threw the tall youth off balance—and that tiny, nearly imperceptible flaw was all the little man needed.

From the ground, he lashed out with a move known as “the rabbit kicks the eagle.” His right leg shot up fiercely, and with the opponent’s leg still trapped, the tall man’s guard was wide open. Once again, that all-too-familiar cracking sound rang out.

Before the stunned eyes of the crowd, the little man snatched victory from the jaws of defeat once more.

“Ha! He did it! Two wins in a row—Third Brother, you’re amazing!” Sun Fugui threw his arms around Feng Jingzhe, his ten taels of silver now multiplied fivefold. This was a stunning upset!

Feng Jingzhe was equally astonished. He had observed every move the little man made and, he had to admit, even he had been fooled. The kid had but one trick: feign weakness, then deliver a deadly blow. Even that unsteady step had likely been an act.

He wondered what strategy the little man would use in the third match. Feng Jingzhe found himself growing more and more intrigued.

As expected, another flurry of paper scraps rained down from the stands—the gamblers’ wails filling the air. After two rounds, the house was raking it in.

The tall youth was soon carried away by several helpers, clearly badly hurt by that last kick—Feng Jingzhe could see from afar that the boy was foaming at the mouth.

Just then, several young men burst into the arena. They wore no masks, and the anxious panic on their faces marked them as the youth’s family or friends. After confirming the extent of his injuries, they turned to the ring with eyes full of murderous intent.

Yet the injured were quickly taken for treatment, and for tonight’s tournament, this was no more than a minor incident.

The bell rang out once more and the iron cage doors swung open again. This time, a hulking brute with exaggerated muscles climbed onto the stage, exuding a fierce aura. The little man, arm hanging limply, fixed his sharp gaze on his new opponent, sizing him up.

Just when everyone expected the little man to keep up his mobile, defensive, counterattacking style, he suddenly defied all expectations and launched the first attack…