Chapter 67: The Entrance of Cheng Qianfeng

The pounding of the drums erupted, and the entire stadium fell into a solemn hush. The audience grew silent as the leaders of both factions finally made their entrance.

Long Tianyun strode forward, draped in a blood-red cloak, his chest bare to reveal his sculpted pectorals and taut abs—a figure worthy of a bodybuilder’s envy. Behind him followed his son, Long Yaoyang, full of vigor, a hint of arrogant recklessness flickering in his eyes, emanating an imposing presence.

In contrast to Long Tianyun, Wang Jisheng appeared humble and unremarkable, clad in a black Zhongshan suit, standing tall with an air of stern dignity. His son, Wang Haiyang, followed, taking his seat with composed formality. The father and son sat motionless, inscrutable as a still lake.

Thus, the two heavyweights of Binhai City took the stage, ascending to the central viewing platform. The martial contest of Binhai City was now officially underway.

The previously silent stadium burst into a wave of cheers.

Once both sides were seated, Long Tianyun glanced sharply at Wang Jisheng, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he spoke:

“Wang Jisheng, I heard your boxing hall was wrecked a few days ago. Is the situation severe? Will it affect today’s martial contest? If things are dire, I’ll give you a chance to surrender now—save you some embarrassment in front of the crowd.”

It was Long Tianyun who’d orchestrated the destruction of the boxing hall through Cheng Qianfeng, and now he brought it up only to insult and provoke.

But Wang Jisheng remained unperturbed—for Master Lin had already made arrangements for everything.

“Long, I hear there’s a betting ring outside. Since you’re so confident, do you dare make a wager with me?”

“Oh? What sort of wager?”

“Simple. I’ll stake my entire fortune—three billion—on Jisheng Society. And you? Do you dare match me?”

Wang Jisheng lifted his teacup and took a leisurely sip.

“Hmm?” Seeing Wang Jisheng so calm, Long Tianyun’s brow furrowed; a thread of unease crept into his heart.

Yet, after decades ruling the underworld, how could Long Tianyun be cowed by such a thing? He waved his hand and laughed heartily:

“Hahaha! Fine, I’ll match your three billion—and up it by five hundred million. If someone’s offering me free money, how could I refuse?”

Before the real contest even began, the two leaders were already locked in a war of words, the tension between them palpable.

Long Yaoyang naturally refused to be outdone. With a sneer, he taunted:

“President Wang, you’re truly going all in. I just wonder, when you lose both the match and the wager tonight, what will you do when you’re reduced to a stray dog?”

“Heh, you needn’t worry about that, Young Master Long. Better think about how you’ll cough up thirty-five hundred million. After ten years of accumulation, seeing it all lost in a single night—your expression will be priceless.”

Wang Haiyang crossed his legs, unfazed, his retort brimming with bravado.

For a moment, the atmosphere between the two sides was electric, reaching its peak.

In the rear of the central platform, the city’s elite watched the blazing confrontation, each with their own thoughts.

Old Master Feng smiled and was the first to speak, mocking:

“Who would’ve thought Wang Jisheng would risk everything—even his coffin money? If he loses, it’ll be a tragedy.”

“Grandfather, I hear Dragon Hall hired a master. Ten days ago, when he issued the challenge, he crippled all the top fighters of Jisheng Society. Tonight, Jisheng Society is doomed!”

Feng Jing, standing by, chimed in, dropping a bombshell.

The revelation left the city’s dignitaries stunned and whispering among themselves. Many had placed large bets with the Tian family’s betting ring.

“I wagered a hundred million on Jisheng Society. It’s all gone now—down the drain.”

“Same here. What a loss! Wang Jisheng should’ve known his limits instead of putting on airs!”

“We’re not the worst off—the Tang family is. They’ve spent over a decade supporting Wang Jisheng. If he loses everything, that decade of effort will be for nothing!”

Those who had placed their hopes on Jisheng Society were crestfallen, sensing disaster.

The Tang family and their vassals whispered among themselves, blaming Wang Jisheng for his recklessness and dragging the Tang family down with him.

It was public knowledge in Binhai City that Jisheng Society was a vassal of the Tang family.

For Wang Jisheng to risk thirty billion without the Tang family’s consent was to bury their years of hard work in a single stroke.

Tang Henian, sensing things were going awry, grew uneasy and asked:

“Father, Wang Jisheng is being reckless. Should I go and have a word with him?”

Amid the murmurs, Old Master Tang remained composed, leaning on his cane, and replied calmly:

“Trust the men you use, and use only those you trust. I have faith in Jisheng; you should show the composure of a family head.”

“But, Father—”

Old Master Tang waved him silent. Tang Henian dared not disobey, and fell quiet, though anxiety gnawed at him.

...

“The Binhai City martial contest now begins! Dragon Hall’s Cheng Qianfeng, to the ring!”

The loudspeakers echoed through the stadium. Long Tianyun signaled his son with a glance; Long Yaoyang bowed and left to arrange for their fighter.

Moments later, a tremendous crash erupted.

Boom!

The door at the entrance tunnel beneath the stands was suddenly blasted outward as if from an explosion, flying across the floor and skidding for over ten meters in two broken pieces.

That was a solid five-hundred-pound steel security door!

It had been kicked off its hinges in one blow—who could possess such strength?

The entire audience held their breath, eyes fixed on the entrance.

One second...

Two seconds...

Three seconds...

On the fourth second, a shadow flickered in the entrance’s gloom and then, with a leap, soared twenty meters into the air.

The figure plummeted to earth like a cannonball.

With a deafening roar, the person landed atop the steel door at the center of the ring; the solid steel shattered beneath his feet, exploding into fragments.

Even the flagstone platform radiated out from him, spiderweb cracks spreading from the impact.

Such terrifying power—it was almost inhuman!

A wave of shock rippled through the crowd, their cries rising in a cacophony.

The figure lifted his head, revealing his face with intimidating arrogance.

Wang Jisheng’s eyes narrowed—wasn’t this the same Cheng Qianfeng who had demolished all his fighters at the boxing hall?

“Long Tianyun, I didn’t expect you to play your trump card from the start.”

Long Tianyun snorted with satisfaction, casting a mocking glance at Wang Jisheng.

“Heh, I simply don’t like to waste time. Besides, a contest between true masters is worth watching. Sending weaklings into the ring is pointless. I’m curious, Wang Jisheng—who will you send to die?”

Wang Jisheng’s expression darkened, his fists clenched tight.

Long Tianyun was brazenly trampling over him, showing no respect at all.

“Boss, let me go! I’ll fight him to the death if I must—give Master Luo a chance!” A burly, bald man beside Wang Jisheng shrugged off his jacket, revealing a chest crisscrossed with scars, his muscles knotted with resolve.

His tone was full of tragic heroism, as though he would never return.

“Xiaodao, stand down.”

“Tsk tsk tsk, fight to the death? You think a weakling like you could even scratch Master Cheng? Don’t be ridiculous—even Luo Qiankun would be instantly defeated! You’d best prepare for a crushing defeat, Wang Jisheng!”

Long Yaoyang, certain of victory, was insufferably arrogant.

“You—” Xiaodao seethed with rage but was powerless in the face of such overwhelming strength.

The ranks of Jisheng Society fell into a deathly silence; Wang Jisheng’s face was ashen, speechless with fury.