When the iron door clanged shut behind him, Johnny smelled rust mixed with rotting flesh. The ground was slick; although the bloodstains from the previous match had been washed away, the stench of blood still lingered in his nostrils.
The underground bare-knuckle boxing ring was hidden deep within a warehouse at the New York shipping terminal. It had long since been converted into an arena, with exceptionally bright lights concentrated mainly on the octagonal cage, while the surrounding spectator stands had only dim lighting to ensure visibility.
Johnny stood outside the octagonal cage, his upper body bare, wearing only a pair of tight shorts on his lower half.
Underground bare-knuckle boxing had its own rules. To ensure entertainment value, all superficially dangerous elements were first eliminated. As for what remained, no one cared.
The cage was surrounded by people.
Front-row gamblers slapped their chips on the iron table, the clatter of plastic overriding the host's roar: "Red corner, Broken Leg A Bao! Muay Thai background, twenty-seven KOs in three years! Blue corner, the newcomer! Bet on red or blue?"
A Bao rotated his shoulders inside the cage, his rippling forearms wrapped in snake tattoos. An old scar, four fingers long, ran from his left eyebrow to his jaw.
He grinned at the audience, his gold tooth glinting, then his gaze fixed on Johnny, who had just entered the octagonal cage. "New guy? I'll break your legs and use them for firewood later!"
Johnny did not respond.
The rubber floor was sticky with dark brown stains, and his toes felt the dampness as soon as they touched the ground. Fortunately, the temperature here was also high, so the water evaporated quickly, and the puddles gradually shrunk and vanished amidst the clamor.
The referee, a bald man with a gold chain around his neck, clapped both their shoulders: "Understand the rules? Only one person standing can leave the cage."
Immediately after, the referee opened the iron door of the octagonal cage and walked out, then turned to close the cage door. He picked up a chain from nearby and wrapped it around the entire door, locking it securely.
Johnny watched this scene without speaking.
"Ready? Go!"
Ding-dong—!
The moment the bell rang, A Bao charged like an enraged bull.
Johnny retreated half a step, his lead hand striking like a venomous snake's tongue, a jab aimed directly at his opponent's nose. This was the most basic Jeet Kune Do probe, faster than nerve reflexes.
But A Bao's arm was quicker than he expected; his forearms crossed to block, and the jab landed on his elbow, making Johnny's tiger's mouth tingle.
"Damn it, what are you trying to prove, acting like a master?"
A Bao spat, delivering a side kick towards Johnny's knee.
Johnny lifted his knee to block, the impact as hard as an iron block. His opponent's shin was as tough as if it were bound with steel plates.
"Hiss~ That hurts! Is this Muay Thai?"
He seized his opponent's kicking ankle, using the momentum to push it to the right. As A Bao's balance shifted, Johnny's rear straight punch was already aimed at his face.
This punch should have hit the jaw, but A Bao suddenly ducked, and the punch grazed his ear, hitting the iron mesh with a dull 'thud'.
Johnny's pupils contracted slightly. Was this the intuition of an experienced fighter?
A Bao seized the opportunity to knee Johnny in the abdomen. Johnny sucked in his stomach and leaned back, his back hitting the cage post hard, his ribs aching.
The stands erupted.
"A Bao! A Bao!"
Someone threw a beer can at the octagonal cage's steel mesh, and foam splashed onto Johnny's feet.
He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, tasting iron.
A Bao, thinking he had the upper hand, roared and lunged, delivering a flurry of punches to Johnny's head.
Johnny ducked under the punches, his lead hand chopping at his wrist. A Bao winced and pulled back his hand, and Johnny's knee strike was already connecting with his abdomen.
He used seventy percent of his strength for this blow, partly to leave himself some leeway, and partly to gauge his opponent's resistance to strikes.
A Bao retreated to the cage edge, clutching his stomach and gasping, his eyes growing even more vicious.
"Playing dirty, huh?"
He pulled something from his shorts pocket. Johnny's pupils constricted—it was a razor blade, tucked into the wrapping on his knuckles, glinting coldly under the lights.
Damn it! How did he get that in?
The referee didn't intervene.
The rules of underground boxing were "no leaving the cage until you're down." What's a hidden blade compared to that?
A Bao charged again, this time his moves aiming for blood.
Johnny dodged three heavy punches, the fourth grazing his left shoulder. He smelled the metallic tang of the blade.
Johnny suddenly crouched, wrapping both hands around A Bao's right arm, which held the blade. He used his shoulder to ram into his ribs, leveraging the impact against the cage corner.
A Bao lost his balance, and Johnny's hand had already seized his wrist, twisting it against the joint.
A Bao shrieked, and Johnny seized the opportunity to pull out the blade. Johnny lifted his leg, delivering a precise side kick to his elbow.
With a'snap', the crisp sound of bone dislocation mixed with the gasps of the audience.
A Bao knelt, clutching his arm, his forehead pressed against the iron mesh, blood dripping from his chin onto the rubber floor.
Johnny stood upright. He heard his own rapid heartbeat, mixed with the boos and scattered applause from the audience.
The referee remained silent. Johnny knew very well that it wasn't over yet, as his opponent wasn't dead.
A Bao, still kneeling on the ground, struggled to his feet, his gaze even more sinister.
"You didn't finish me off when you had the chance, and you'll regret it!" A Bao's eyes were filled with cruelty and madness, but Johnny merely watched him, expressionless.
Killing? I've killed more people than you can imagine.
Johnny's expression didn't even twitch. If A Bao knew that the man in front of him was a ruthless killer, he probably wouldn't have uttered such harsh words.
The reason Johnny didn't finish him off earlier was simply to gauge his mastery of Jeet Kune Do. Life-and-death combat was an entirely different matter from sparring.
"Alright, the warm-up is over. Now, it's time for you to die!"
Johnny rotated his neck left and right, then looked at the sinister-eyed A Bao. "Cherish your last moments."
With that, Johnny stepped forward. A Bao retreated, knowing clearly that this guy's skill was in his legs, and his fists were merely a feint.
Sure enough, the next second he kicked, but Johnny immediately took a step back, just dodging the sweep of his leg.
Muay Thai is famous not just for its fists, but also for its elbows and legs. Skilled practitioners can even kick a steel pipe bent or explode a durian.
So, how could Johnny possibly use his vulnerable parts to go head-to-head with his opponent's hardest parts?
After retreating half a step to avoid his opponent's sweep, Johnny immediately closed in. At this moment, A Bao prepared to launch another combo, but Johnny wouldn't give him the chance.
Johnny directly used his arm to lock A Bao's leg, preventing him from making any further moves, while simultaneously hammering his left fist into A Bao's armpit.
This area is naturally a vulnerable part of the human body; no amount of training could toughen it. So, each punch made A Bao see stars from the pain.
Immediately after, Johnny slightly lifted his right foot, delivering a low sweep that brutally kicked A Bao's ankle.
Crack!
The sound was incredibly clear; A Bao's ankle was directly dislocated by Johnny's kick.
"Ah!"
The intense pain made A Bao scream, but in the next second, Johnny directly used his right hand in an upward palm strike, forcefully pushing it against A Bao's chin.
Crack!
A Bao's jaw instantly went limp, forming a grotesque angle. The sudden force and this specific angle left him no way to dodge. Johnny's palm strike shattered his jaw.
A Bao instantly lost the ability to speak, unable to make any sound other than a scream.
But Johnny's attack did not stop.
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