Police Chen Shu

Ten years ago, in the capital of Yun Province, in an underground boxing gym.

The light was dim, with only a few creaking and swaying chandeliers barely illuminating the boxing ring. The surroundings were not completely dark, but the only difference from complete darkness was the countless pairs of shining eyes under the boxing ring.

The air here was filled with a mixture of sour sweat, cheap tobacco and alcohol. It was so stuffy that ordinary people who had just come in would immediately feel uncontrollable suffocation when they took a breath.

The boxing ring in the center of the boxing gym was surrounded by four iron pillars, and the iron pillars were surrounded by iron wires as thick as thumbs, forming a net. The iron pillars and wires were rusty, and if you looked closely, there were still many bloodstains on them.

The boxing ring was filled with crazy people. They grabbed bottles of wine and shouted recklessly, cheering for the heavy blows of the boxers they bet on, and then they cursed loudly and unceremoniously because of the boxers' occasional mistakes and beatings.

In just a few seconds, they can go back thousands of years and greet people from their ancestors to their descendants.

Of course, some people don't have this historical cultivation, so they directly assert that the boxer's son has no asshole. Although the words are unpleasant, if you count carefully, they only curse two generations. In the underground boxing gym, such a restrained way of speaking can be regarded as a gentleman.

On the second floor a little further away, some middle-aged people in decent clothes, holding cash or betting tickets in their hands, gathered in groups of three or five, staring at the boxing ring intently, and the communication between them was also quiet and fast, for fear of missing even a second of the intersection between the two boxers on the field.

In the inner room separated by a wall, a bald fat man wearing a black leather jacket, biting a small cigar that was much thinner than an ordinary cigar, looked at the screen coldly.

The thin man won, which was an upset, and he made a lot of money.

The strong man won, the odds were extremely low, but he could still make some money.

The dealer basically would not lose money unless he encountered a cop who broke the game or he went out to gamble.

The whole boxing gym, with so many people, at this moment, all their minds were on the boxing ring.

Bang!

The two boxers on the boxing ring pounced on each other like fighting dogs, and both sides were desperately hitting each other's heads with their fists.

Obviously, this energy-consuming fighting style was not suitable for the thin man. Within half a minute, the thin man could only passively retract his fists to block in front of him and was beaten by the opponent.

When being beaten, the thin man was hit on the chin by the opponent's right hook, which was not standard but obviously powerful. Under the lights, the thin man spurted out a stream of saliva from his mouth, and then his body slid down softly against the ropes.

The atmosphere in the arena suddenly boiled up, and the cheers from the whole hall were endless.

The strong man raised his hands triumphantly, like a victorious general in ancient times, facing the audience outside, and circled around the edge of the boxing ring.

When passing in front of the thin man, the strong man still maintained a flamboyant attitude, but the thin man, who had recovered, slightly opened his half-closed eyes, and then kicked the middle-aged boxer in the crotch.

The middle-aged boxer with a strong body fell hard on the boxing ring, his head hitting the ground, and he was unconscious.

Then, the thin man pulled the ropes behind him and slowly stood up.

The noise on the boxing ring was first like a broken sound system that was stuck, quiet, and then suddenly burst into the most peak and fierce noise of the night.

Screams, curses and cheers mixed together to form a huge sound wave.

"Damn! Cheating! Cheating!"

"This guy lost! You dare to sneak attack!"

"You bastard, you still have the nerve to stand on the stage?"

The audience, who were red-eyed with gambling, waved their bottles and cash frantically. Glass bottles kept flying over the iron cage into the boxing ring, banging at the feet of the thin man who was still standing on the stage.

Some debris hit the thin man in the gap, but he did not dodge, just stood there stupidly, gasping for breath.

The shaky thin man did not raise his hands like the victorious boxers in the past, enjoying the cheers and worship that the winner should have.

He just looked down at the sturdy boxer who was defeated by him and lying motionless on the ground through his eyes that had already turned red, with a lonely expression, as if he should be the loser.

The thin man even forgot to wipe the blood that soaked half of his head.

At this time, a middle-aged referee wearing a white shirt, black suit and flowered tie appeared from nowhere. He stepped over the boxer lying on the ground without even looking at him, trotted to the thin man, and raised the thin man's left hand.

The thin man, who had already overdrawn his strength, was led to a crooked shape by the referee with a traitor's hair, but his eyes were still firmly fixed on the boxer lying on the ground, wondering why the other party had no reaction at all, and why the organizer didn't carry him down for treatment.

Until he was taken away from the boxing ring by the crowd like a moon surrounded by stars, the thin man still didn't notice the stretcher on the scene.

In the next room, the bald fat man smiled slightly, exhaled a long smoke ring, and a trace of satisfaction and appreciation flashed in his eyes.

"Boss, will judging him as the winner affect the reputation of our boxing market?" A subordinate standing behind the bald fat man asked in confusion.

"When it comes to black boxing, what rules are there? No matter what methods he uses, whoever stands to the end is the winner." The bald fat man explained sternly, but he was thinking in his heart: Stupid, you don't even use your brain to calculate, how much can we earn from this upset?

"Bring him here." The fat bald man tilted his head slightly and ordered.

"yes."

The young man left quickly, and a few minutes later, he returned to the office with the victorious thin man.

The thin man's eyes were wandering. The blood stains on his head and body had been wiped clean, but he was still shirtless and wearing the shorts he wore during the game. There were a few red spots on his shorts.

"Call the boss!" The young man standing on the side yelled at the thin man with a stern attitude. Obviously, this newly victorious boxer was nothing in their eyes, just a poker card on the gambling table.

"It's okay, it's okay. The young man just finished playing the game and hasn't recovered yet, haha."

The fat bald man was amiable. He stood up and walked to the thin man, pulled him to sit down, and said in a friendly manner: "I remember that the name you registered is, Masked Knight? It's a bit like our Jianghu."

The thin man was noncommittal and said nothing.

The bald fat man doesn't care about the thin man's attitude. No matter what, if he can make money for him, he is a noble person and should be treated well.

Although this kind of person can only help him earn a few months' money at most, but that's still money, isn't it?

Why is it said to be a month? The strong man lying on the ring now is the explanation.

It's one thing for audiences to be bored and dislike old boxers. And if the boxer himself cannot accept his failure, whether it is physical or psychological, that is another matter.

"Xia Ke Xia Ke." The fat bald man seemed to be curious about the nickname of the thin man, and he was still thinking about what he thought was a unique explanation. "Your black boxing is actually a form of robbing the rich and giving to the poor."

"Huh?" The thin man turned his head slightly and glanced at the shiny head sitting next to him, his face full of doubts.

Seeing that he had finally attracted the opponent's attention, the fat bald man grinned and said, "Look, most of these people who come here to bet on boxing don't have much money. They are lazy, lazy, and not very smart. Just let them go." How much money can you make if you work seriously in society?

As he spoke, he knocked on the coffee table with his fingers, and once again spoke sternly and righteously: "Only we can provide them with a small and generous way to make a comeback."

After a pause, the banker who had made a lot of money in the black market boxing swallowed his saliva and said decisively: "And it is absolutely fair and just."