Chapter 29: Liang Feng

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Cao Yang stepped into the octagonal cage. His opponent, Liang Feng, was already standing in the center, and the two men were sizing each other up.

In terms of build, Cao Yang stood more than half a head taller than Liang Feng. In a regulated match, they would not even be in the same weight class.

But this was an underground fight with no rules. As long as one man could knock the other down, nothing else mattered—not even physical disparity.

A voluptuous beauty wearing nothing but a bikini climbed into the ring. She held up two placards, one bearing Cao Yang’s name and the other Liang Feng’s.

She swayed her hips and circled the cage, raising the signs high so the spectators could see the fighters’ information and place their bets.

Cao Yang’s record was simple: a name, a height, a weight, and a record of zero wins and zero losses. He was a complete newcomer.

Liang Feng, on the other hand, had fought ninety-nine times, winning ninety-two and losing seven. This was to be his hundredth fight.

It was said that all seven of his losses had been for business purposes. He would step into the ring, fight for a while, and then voluntarily concede. Not once had he actually been beaten unconscious. Everyone knew the man fixed fights, and more than a few people had been furious because of it.

Tiexiong and Jim, for instance, were among his victims. Whenever they bet on Liang Feng to win, he lost. Whenever they bet on him to lose, he won. He did not even bother to make his performances convincing.

The two men knew they had been set up by the Guangxi native, but there was nothing they could do.

In the ring, making someone win might be difficult, but making him lose was easy.

They were not the only ones. Several other wealthy patrons had also hired supposedly formidable fighters to face Liang Feng, betting on his defeat. Without exception, they had all ended up as suckers.

“Cao Yang! Come on! Kill that bastard!” Tiexiong shouted from below, waving his arms. His excitement made it obvious that he had placed a heavy bet on Cao Yang.

Jim, standing beside him, was far more composed. He smoked and drank leisurely, waiting in silence for the fight to begin.

The spectators and wealthy patrons around the cage were busy placing their bets as well. Most of them backed Liang Feng. Aside from those few fixed fights, he had hardly ever lost.

The newcomer called Cao Yang might have looked tall, powerful, and solidly muscled, but in the eyes of these patrons, he was utterly insignificant. A man like him was nothing. The last time, someone had brought in a two-meter-tall Russian who looked like a bear, and Liang Feng had nearly beaten him to death in the ring.

A bell rang. Betting closed, and the arena fell silent.

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The glamorous woman walked between Cao Yang and Liang Feng and shouted, “Begin!”

The instant her voice fell, Cao Yang sensed danger closing in.

In his haste, he shifted his head to the left. Liang Feng’s fist skimmed past his cheek.

“So it’s started?”

Only then did Cao Yang understand what the staff had meant by the lights coming on. These people played far more viciously than anything he had ever seen on television.

But he had no time to dwell on it, because Liang Feng’s attacks came one after another.

When his punch missed, Liang Feng immediately followed with a kick aimed straight at Cao Yang’s groin. If it connected, the consequences would be devastating.

Cao Yang dared not be careless. Covering himself with one hand as he retreated, he thrust out his right foot and drove his knee into Liang Feng’s ankle, forcing Liang Feng to retreat two steps and neutralize the attack.

A faint smile appeared at the corner of Liang Feng’s mouth, as though he had gained a measure of respect for Cao Yang’s skill.

Without giving Cao Yang a moment to catch his breath, he sprang into the air and lunged forward, driving his knee toward Cao Yang’s chest while bringing his elbow toward Cao Yang’s forehead.

It was a vicious move, attacking high and low at the same time. Against most people, it would have been a killing blow.

But Cao Yang was not most people. His reflexes were extraordinarily fast. Just as Liang Feng’s elbow was about to reach his forehead, Cao Yang spun like a top and slipped effortlessly out of its path.

At the same time, he clenched his right fist and slammed it into Liang Feng’s knee.

A number of people in the stands shouted for Liang Feng to finish him off. Only Tiexiong and a handful of gamblers who had risked small stakes on a big payoff were yelling for Cao Yang to kill Liang Feng.

A bodyguard standing beside Xida, the leader of the Guangxi gang, saw Cao Yang meet Liang Feng’s knee with his bare fist. He smiled and shook his head.

Cao Yang was finished. After this exchange, the outcome would be decided.

Yet things did not unfold as he had imagined. Cao Yang’s fist collided with Liang Feng’s knee, and Liang Feng felt as though he had struck a steel plate rather than a fist.

The tremendous force sent him staggering backward several steps. He stared at Cao Yang in disbelief.

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Liang Feng shared the bodyguard’s opinion. When he saw Cao Yang meet his knee with a fist, he had been certain that victory was his.

The strength in a man’s legs was far greater than that in his arms, and the kneecap was far harder than the bones of the fingers. His kneecap, combined with his body weight and the speed of his descent, brought three immense forces to bear. How could Cao Yang’s fist possibly withstand them?

In Liang Feng’s imagination, Cao Yang’s hand should have shattered on impact.

But reality was different. Cao Yang merely shook his hand and smiled.

“Not bad.”

It was praise. Cao Yang had never lost a fight in his life, and no one had ever managed to hurt him. Yet Liang Feng had made him feel the faintest trace of pain.

To Liang Feng, however, those words sounded like mockery. Though furious, he no longer dared to attack recklessly. He studied Cao Yang with caution, mixed with a trace of bewilderment.

He could not quite make sense of this young man. Logically, anyone capable of forcing him backward had to be a trained fighter—and not merely a trained fighter, but an expert.

Yet if Cao Yang truly was an expert, he would never have foolishly met Liang Feng’s knee with his hand. With that kind of strength and physique, Cao Yang could have used almost any other method and left him seriously injured by now.

The exchange had amounted to two and a half moves. Cao Yang had remained on the defensive throughout. Now that Liang Feng had stopped attacking, Cao Yang was in no hurry either. He intended to watch carefully and learn.

The two men stared at each other inside the cage. Three minutes passed without either making another move.

They could endure the stalemate, but the spectators below could not. One after another, they began cursing and shouting for the fighters to hurry up and kill each other.

Tiexiong was the loudest of them all. He sprang to his feet, shouting at the top of his lungs. He was practically missing only a loudspeaker.

Cao Yang cast him an unhappy glance. On the way here, Tiexiong had told him that Liang Feng was an heir to the Southern Shaolin school of Buddhist boxing.

But now that Cao Yang had seen him fight, what part of this was Buddhist boxing?

Cao Yang had never seen genuine Buddhist boxing himself, but Liang Feng’s attacks clearly resembled Muay Thai—a style Cao Yang had seen in movies.

Just as his attention wandered, Liang Feng seized the opportunity. He sprang forward once more.

This time, he drove both knees toward Cao Yang while striking with his left elbow and right fist, using all four limbs in a three-pronged assault.

Cao Yang bent swiftly at the waist, his body becoming a fading blur as he slipped past the incoming knees. At the same time, he imitated Liang Feng’s technique, driving his right elbow into Liang Feng’s side.

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