The Way of Restraint

The people from Greenland Club were very arrogant.

This was Su Jie’s first impression of them.

To be fair, fighting itself was a brutal game, and arrogance was one way to boost one’s own momentum. Moreover, Greenland had brought his club members here today to negotiate, so it was only right to let Mingxia Sports’ fighters know how formidable they were—this would help drive up the price.

Greenland, the world’s second-ranked Heavenly King, had read the situation accurately. At present, China’s overall fighting level was difficult to rank globally, which meant it couldn’t generate cohesive fan loyalty or influence. With both major conglomerates investing in sports projects, only by making Mingxia or Hedao Group truly understand the terrifying strength of his club would they be willing to pay real money.

“This is Lant, a new fighter our club has trained. He hasn’t fought any matches yet—not very strong,” this bald-headed Heavenly King said to Xia Shang.

Xia Shang didn’t understand fighting, nor did he practice any martial art, but he could understand match results. He knew exactly where things stood and simply nodded.

“Begin.”

Huang Mulan acted as the temporary referee.

This small exhibition match wasn’t very formal, but precisely because of that, it allowed them to see the fighters’ true level.

“This Peng Haikun is very similar to a fighter I faced during a summer competition at Minglun Martial Arts Academy—Peng Haidong. Also from a Through-the-Back Boxing family. Could they be brothers?” Su Jie recalled an old memory.

This was from the early days when he was just learning. He had fought at least several hundred small exhibition matches. An ordinary person would have long forgotten, but he remembered every past event as if it were right before his eyes—every small detail of each movement, his mental state at the time, the surrounding environment—all crystal clear, allowing him to reflect at any moment, review the old to know the new.

This was the terrifying power of the “Living Dead” realm.

It wasn’t just an eidetic memory. He could also recall things he had forgotten, every bit and piece of his entire life, all surfacing in a flash, like lightning striking stone.

Maintaining at every moment the great clarity a person has in the instant before death.

Without such a wondrous function, how could anyone become “exceptional”?

That said, this Peng Haikun was far more formidable than Peng Haidong had been back then. He was renowned on the domestic competition circuit, with rich match experience.

The two faced off.

Peng Haikun knew that although this wasn’t an official match, it was more important than any major competition. Not only could he show off in front of the boss, but winning would also increase the boss’s leverage in negotiations.

He was completely alert, running through various tactics in his mind, building his emotional state, adjusting his breathing. Soon, he had fully entered combat mode.

Across from him, Lant showed no expression. He made no pre-match movements either—standing like a wooden stake, not even adjusting his breathing rhythm. This was clearly a novice who hadn’t experienced major competitions.

Seeing this, Peng Haikun felt somewhat relieved. As for provoking his opponent, he didn’t take it to heart.

After about ten seconds of facing off, Peng Haikun suddenly closed in, throwing a feigned punch.

But in that instant, Lant’s body seemed to sink slightly—just enough to dodge the punch—and his leg shot out, chopping diagonally at a forty-five-degree angle into Peng Haikun’s calf.

A chopping kick.

Among kicking techniques, there were whip kicks, sweeping kicks, chopping kicks, splitting kicks, stomping kicks, snapping kicks, and so on. Among them, the chopping kick had the greatest destructive power—like a broad axe chopping a tree, heavy and forceful. Many Muay Thai fighters demonstrated by using chopping kicks to break steel pipes.

However, chopping kicks weren’t fast. It was hard for opponents to get hit by them in a match. They were typically only used when the fighter was very confident.

But Lant’s chopping kick exploded out in an instant. He hadn’t moved at the start, then dodged the punch, completed his load-up, and unleashed—landing the strike in one go.

Crack!

Peng Haikun’s calf bone broke. The sound was audible. He collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain.

Defeated in one move. And seriously injured.

“Doctor!” Huang Mulan frowned. At her call, a doctor came in and carried Peng Haikun out on a stretcher.

A flicker of displeasure crossed Xia Shang’s face, but he quickly composed himself.

He raised his hand, not letting the second fighter step up. He could see that the second fighter, Ma Zhang, would certainly lose as well—there was no need to get him injured.

He also didn’t let Zhang Jinchuan go up.

In his view, Zhang Jinchuan was a student and a businessman. When it came to fighting, he was just an enthusiast—certainly no match for a professional.

“Mr. Xia Shang, how embarrassing,” Greenland, the bald-headed man, said with a laugh, though his face showed no trace of embarrassment. “We can cover all of your fighter’s medical expenses.”

“No need.” Although Xia Yi’s coach worked under Greenland and greatly respected him, he was deeply displeased at this moment.

“Lant has only trained in our camp for one year,” Greenland continued. “Now you’ve seen the results. If you adopt our training system, I guarantee your fighters will soon sweep all the championships in China and achieve good rankings in the European and American fighting markets.”

“Mr. Greenland, we also have the best coaches and training systems right here,” Zhang Jinchuan spoke up. He could see that Xia Shang was actually quite unhappy. At times like this, as a “subject” trying to please the boss, there was only one way.

Originally, he had considered stepping up himself for fun, but now he changed his mind and pushed Su Jie forward instead.

“This is my fighting coach. He’d like to have some fun with your club members.” Zhang Jinchuan said, “Mr. Greenland, I’m very fond of betting—especially when it comes to fighting. How about I put up one million US dollars, betting that my coach here can take on two of your club’s fighters at once? If I win, I only need Mr. Greenland to pay me one hundred thousand US dollars. What do you say?”

“What?” Greenland seemed not to have heard clearly. “Mr. Zhang Jinchuan, could you repeat what you just said? I didn’t catch it.”

“Very simple. One against two, odds of one to ten.” Zhang Jinchuan emphasized again. “I’m the one giving one-to-ten odds. If I lose, I pay you one million dollars. If you lose, you only need to give me one hundred thousand. My coach will take on two of your fighters.”

At this, Greenland understood. Displeasure appeared plainly on his face, and the fighters under him were even more enraged. If not for the ongoing business negotiations, they might have started a fight.

Xia Yi, Huang Mulan, and Zhu Qing were also extremely surprised. At the same time, they couldn’t understand Zhang Jinchuan’s behavior. Even among fighters with a large skill gap, winning two-against-one was extremely difficult.

Especially with fighters from Greenland’s club. Take Lant just now—although he was a newcomer, he had undergone enormous amounts of training and sparring, and was ready to make a stunning debut.

Xia Yi, in particular, deeply understood how terrifying Greenland’s dojo was.

She hadn’t even signed with them—she only trained on the periphery.

And they trained people to the point of breaking.

The fighters Greenland had brought were all core signed members, absolutely world-class in ability.

Su Jie said nothing. He simply walked directly to the center of the training area, stood still, and remained calm and composed. He was very stoic, not speaking—faithfully carrying out his duty as a bodyguard.

Of course, this was also his personality: resolute, unadorned, naturally not one for idle talk.

This demeanor, as Xia Shang observed it, first and foremost conveyed reliability. Xia Shang had met far too many braggarts. Facing someone so taciturn and cool-headed, he wouldn’t say he appreciated it, but he certainly found it unusual.

Seeing Su Jie step forward, Greenland spoke: “Lant, Barto, both of you go.”

 Lant, who had just broken Peng Haikun’s calf with a chopping kick, walked up to Su Jie. From the side came another fighter with pitch-black skin, his whole body like black iron. Judging by his presence alone, this Barto was even more formidable than Lant.

“Foreigners really are pragmatic,” Zhang Jinchuan said to Xia Yi in Chinese. “If this were our martial arts community, even for a million US dollars, anyone with a shred of pride wouldn’t agree to two-on-one. But foreigners don’t care about that—or about saving face. They just want to pocket that million dollars first.”

“Aren’t you just handing them money?” Huang Mulan said, clearly dissatisfied. “This won’t increase our leverage in the negotiation—it’ll just waste your million dollars for nothing.”

“You think Su Jie will definitely lose?” Zhang Jinchuan laughed. “I never fight a battle I’m not sure of. How about we make a bet too?”

“I won’t bet with you. I don’t have the habit of gambling. I’m looking at this from a professional perspective: fighting is fighting, bodyguarding is bodyguarding. Even world-class special forces soldiers have a wide range of skills, but inside a ring, they aren’t necessarily a match for professional fighters. Different specialties for different pursuits.” Huang Mulan’s tone was icy.

Xia Shang said nothing, a faint smile on his face.

He didn’t care about the process—only the result.

Zhang Jinchuan knew that Xia Shang was now doubting him as well. If Su Jie lost, he would lose serious standing in Xia Shang’s estimation.

Even though he had earned Xia Shang’s favor, in the development history of Mingxia Group, many who had been favored had been demoted because of small mistakes that cost them points.

Working for the boss of a major conglomerate was like “accompanying a ruler beside a tiger.”

“Begin,” Huang Mulan faithfully carried out her duties as referee.

The moment she finished speaking, Lant and Barto moved.

Their speed was noticeably higher than before. They attacked from left and right, pincering Su Jie, cutting off all his escape routes. They wanted to finish quickly and get that million dollars in hand.

The two seemed to have practiced coordinated attacks often—their teamwork was excellent.

Barto advanced, throwing punches at Su Jie’s head, while Lant stomped, jumped, kicked, and chopped. His signature chopping kick was already on its way, targeting Su Jie’s calf.

Su Jie didn’t move. He didn’t fight back either.

Thud! Thud!

Barto’s fist landed squarely on his head. Lant’s chopping kick landed cleanly on his calf.

The sight of the impact sent a jolt through the onlookers’ nerves. Then, the sound of breaking bones reached everyone’s ears.

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