Ba Yi said that his ancestor once shot and killed two tigers with a single arrow and was then chased by a brown bear.
That was true marksmanship, hitting two tigers with one arrow.
Because the brown bear was slow and not very agile, it couldn't harm his ancestor. Seizing the opportunity, his ancestor shot two more arrows…
"Before I was born, the ancestral hall still had the skins of the brown bear and the tigers. But they were lost when the invaders came.
My ancestor said that fighting is about targeting weaknesses, and this applies to animals too. The brown bear's weakness was its slow speed and its nose, so my ancestor used his intelligence."
"Your ancestor was indeed brave, resourceful, and worthy of my admiration," I said, giving a thumbs up.
"Of course, in a hundred miles around here, my ancestor was the only such legendary figure in a hundred years."
Ba Yi's smug expression made me want to hit him.
Hitting him felt as satisfying as hitting my little brother.
"So why didn't you inherit your ancestor's wisdom? Even your expression is pure stupidity."
"Bro, I'm going to sleep. See you tomorrow."
Seeing that I had killed the conversation, Ba Yi ran off.
I chuckled and decided to go downstairs for a run to stretch my long-unused muscles.
As I opened the door, I saw Wrench about to knock.
"Just in time, let's go exercise together," I said, locking the door.
Wrench frowned, looking troubled. "Liu Eleven wants you to go to the gym."
"Oh? The gym... this place really has all kinds of entertainment facilities!"
"Everything but conscience."
I paused for a moment and followed him downstairs. "He's not inviting me to work out out of the goodness of his heart, is he?"
"You guessed right. His two top men, his right and left hands, want to spar with you."
"Top men… isn't that you?"
Seeing my surprised look, Wrench sneered. "How could it be me? People like us are just his lackeys. Any day, we could be tied up and thrown into the Mekong River to feed the sharks."
"So who are they? Seems like he's pretty cautious, placing spies and bodyguards everywhere."
Hearing this, I got interested and wanted to meet these top men.
Whether friend or foe, martial artists always want to spar with strong opponents.
"One is a local, and the other is Thai. Both are skilled fighters.
Sometimes they aren't in the area. They just got back this morning and heard about you, so they're itching for a fight.
I've sparred with the local one before. We fought for a long time without a clear winner, and I almost got my leg broken…"
If Wrench could hold his own against him, no wonder Liu Eleven valued him.
In this hellhole, having a skill and value was key to survival.
"The Thai guy doesn't fight often?"
"Not really. At least I haven't seen him fight. He doesn't talk much, doesn't interact with us, and only takes orders from Liu Eleven."
We chatted as we walked to the gym.
Soon, we reached the red building full of entertainment venues.
The first floor was a casino with slot machines and baccarat.
The second floor was a brothel with women selling their bodies.
Patrons included the camp's henchmen and some piglets who earned a bit and came to indulge.
The warlords and higher-ups played for free.
The third floor was a KTV, rumored to sell drugs, and they forced female piglets to take them until they foamed at the mouth.
The fourth floor was a bar with strip shows and orgies.
The fifth and sixth floors were VIP gyms, off-limits to ordinary piglets.
Only Wrench and piglets with special value could come to work out.
When we reached the sixth floor, Liu Eleven and his two top men were sitting on mats, chatting.
There were seven or eight other henchmen in security uniforms working out.
In one corner, a middle-aged man in black trousers and a white shirt was lifting dumbbells.
He seemed to be a higher-up.
When Liu Eleven saw us, he immediately stood up and introduced, "Mao Dinglun, Paitun, this is the Chinese kung fu guy I told you about."
Mao Dinglun, his left-hand man, a local.
He was about 1.73 meters tall, with slightly yellow skin, deep-set eyes, and well-defined muscles.
They had no surnames, only names.
They added the prefix "Mao" or other words to their names.
Paitun, his right-hand man, a Thai.
He was about 1.75 meters tall, dark-skinned, fierce-looking, and had rough muscle lines.
He was rumored to be skilled in Muay Thai.
"Hello, Chinese friend," Mao Dinglun stood up and politely extended his right hand to me.
Paitun just gave me a disdainful glance and went to lift weights.
What an attitude. If you ignore me, I'll ignore you too.
"Hello, Burmese friend," I said with a smile, extending my left hand and lightly gripping his right hand.
"Huh?"
A handshake was supposed to be friendly, but he tried to secretly test my strength.
Ha, such tricks wouldn't work on me. Besides, I had already anticipated his move.
I pinched his thumb, pressed lightly, and then quickly withdrew my hand.
"Mr. Mao Dinglun, you are very enthusiastic," I said, clasping my hands in a polite gesture.
He was stunned for a second, then returned the gesture, smiling. "You have excellent inner strength, Chinese friend. Would you like to spar with me?
I love Chinese kung fu, especially after seeing your video of defeating that black guy with one blow. I am deeply impressed."
With such flattering words, how could I refuse?
Not for his sake, but out of courtesy.
"Please instruct me!"
I smiled and accepted his challenge.
"Little Bottle, this training suit is for you," Liu Eleven generously handed over a set of blue Muay Thai training clothes.
"Thank you, supervisor."
I quickly changed out of my trousers and shirt into the workout shorts and vest.
When I turned around, I noticed Liu Eleven staring at me with an indescribable look.
It made me very uncomfortable.
Damn, he's acting weird. That look was too perverted.
I'm a man, for crying out loud!
That lecherous look should be reserved for voluptuous women, not me.
Feeling creeped out, I hurried to the center of the gym and stood on the foam mat.
The gym was spacious, about 300 square meters.
Sparring for a few minutes here would give us enough room to move.
Mao Dinglun, already dressed in black workout shorts and a vest, stood across from me.
"Mr. Mao Dinglun, do we have any rules for this spar? I'm not sure, please instruct me!"
I was worried about not holding back and possibly killing him.
After that handshake, I was 80% confident I could beat him within ten moves.
On the other hand, he might have been pretending to be weak to test me.
"I don't know," Liu Eleven said. "He's not pretending to be weak, he's just very confident. He's not going to be able to beat me."