Chapter 133: Stepping In to Fight!

"Bi Haichao, you!"

Zhang Heifa was furious. He and Bi had never seen eye to eye, and now, even with the Association President’s token in hand, Bi still refused to show him any respect. Feeling his face flush with humiliation, he was about to lash out, but Bi’s underlings immediately closed in, ready to strike the moment he made a move.

"Heifa, wait a moment," Ye Wushang interjected. He understood that Bi Haichao detested those he deemed "connected" like himself. Furthermore, since Bi was a sworn enemy of Zhang and had no love for Ye either, it would be difficult to get his cooperation in handing over the master craftsmen. Ye didn't want to trouble Jiang Hongwei, so he decided to handle it himself.

"Tell me about this Bi Haichao," Ye said. "I'm in no rush; it can wait until he finishes his boxing match."

Zhang spat on the ground and curled his lip. "Boxing match, my foot! He knows nothing but clumsy, amateur moves, yet he thinks he's the best in the world and spends his time hunting for boxers to fight. He claims he'll give a reward to anyone who can beat him. Ever since I’ve known him, he holds a match every three days and loses tens of thousands each time. He’s obsessed with it—losing money and getting beaten up. The man is sick in the head!"

Tu Ye chimed in, nodding. "I’ve heard as much. Bi is obsessed with boxing, especially against skilled opponents. He doesn't respect anyone except those stronger than him. The better they are at fighting, the more he respects them."

Ye Wushang fell into deep thought. If that was the case, he could win Bi’s respect by taking his place in the ring. He didn't care to befriend the man, but as the manager of this place, Bi would know which craftsmen were the most skilled and meticulous. While the President’s token could force Bi to comply, a man acting under duress might sabotage the work, especially given his hostility toward Zhang.

*Thwack!*

A sharp sound echoed as Bi Haichao took a blow to the face. Blood sprayed, and he stumbled back, finally collapsing onto the canvas. The muscular man stepped forward, placed a foot on Bi’s chest, and shook his head.

"Bi Haichao, you're pathetic," the man sneered. "In terms of strength, I’m at least five or six times stronger than you. In terms of footwork, I’m a hare and you’re a tortoise—there's no comparison. Even in technique, you’re just flailing about. We could fight ten more times, and the outcome would be the same. Pay up. Fighting someone like you is a bore and a waste of time!"

The crowd erupted, cheering for the muscular man, Wang Gang, while jeering at Bi Haichao. Though this was Bi’s territory, in the ring, the winner was king. They worshipped strength, not status. Bi, beaten and humiliated, wished he could disappear into the floor.

"Brother Wang is indeed talented—the best fighter I’ve ever met," Bi said, his voice strained with embarrassment. "Losing to you, I admit defeat, I..."

Just as Bi was about to raise his hand to surrender, Ye Wushang stepped forward with a smile. "The match isn't over yet. How can you concede so easily?"

Tu Ye and Zhang Heifa rushed forward, terrified. Bi was already half-dead, and if Ye Wushang incited more trouble, they wouldn't just lose their chance to borrow the craftsmen—they might not make it out alive. Despite knowing Ye’s skill, they felt he should have remained low-key.

Before they could stop him, Bi Haichao snapped, "Ye, what the hell do you mean? I’m vomiting blood, and you say the match isn't over? Are you trying to see me beaten to death? Don’t think that token makes you untouchable. If you push me too far, I’ll kill all those craftsmen so you won't get a single one!"

Ye Wushang remained unfazed. "You misunderstand, Mr. Bi. I mean, why bother fighting this third-rate boxer yourself? I’m here to borrow the craftsmen, but I'm not in a rush. If you don't mind, I can take your place."

Bi was stunned. Tu Ye and Zhang Heifa realized what he was doing: he was trying to win Bi over by fighting in his stead. But Wang Gang was no pushover.

"Mr. Ye, think carefully," Zhang warned. "Wang Gang is a three-time Sanda champion. He’s on a fifty-match winning streak, and every opponent ends up in the hospital. Bi was only left with a bloody nose today because he’s with the Black Dragon Society; anyone else wouldn't be so lucky."

Wang Gang laughed, glancing at Ye with mockery. "A pretty boy like you thinks he can fight me? My rules are simple: either you pay a hefty fee, like Bi here, or you're a powerhouse. You're a weakling who looks like a stiff breeze could knock you over. Go home and sleep."

The crowd roared with laughter, treating Ye like a fool. Bi Haichao, however, saw an opportunity. Helped up by his men, he nodded. "Fine. Let him take my place. But mark my words: if you lose, you won't get a single craftsman, no matter whose token you have. You’ll go back the way you came. Do you dare?"

Bi didn't particularly care for Ye, but the main issue was that the craftsmen were involved in his private, illicit side deals. If they were taken away, his secrets might leak.

"Agreed," Ye said. "But if I win, you will personally select the best craftsmen for me. Furthermore, you will tell me exactly what you’ve been doing with them behind everyone’s back."

Bi’s expression shifted. "Selecting the men is fine, but what is that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Ye replied. "I brought the President’s token, and you still refuse. Do you expect me to believe there’s nothing fishy going on?"

Ye turned toward the ring stairs. A true expert would have leaped onto the stage, but Ye chose the stairs—a subtle mockery of Bi’s own posturing.

"Wait," Wang Gang said, looking at Bi. "I fight you for the money, Bi. Why would I fight this kid? We haven't agreed to this."

Bi took a deep breath. "Wang, you’re the expert, I respect that. I know fighting a nobody is beneath you. But as a favor to me, fight one more round. I’ll quintuple the price—twenty thousand, and you can take it and go."

Wang Gang’s expression softened. "Fine. For the money, I’ll play with this kid. Since you don't like him, I’ll stick to my usual routine: I'll leave him half-paralyzed and send him to the hospital. Whether he survives is up to his own fate!"

"Roar!" The crowd went wild. Watching Wang Gang crush a "weakling" was even more entertaining than a balanced fight. They shouted for him to beat Ye until he was unrecognizable, their jeers filling the arena.