Amid the chorus of boos, the burly man whose fingers Wang Baole was still twisting trembled all over, eyes wet with tears. The pain of having your fingers bent like that was like a drill boring straight into the heart of your nerves. It drove him to the brink of madness.
That kind of pain was hard to describe. It felt as if every bit of strength in his body had drained away, leaving only the agony concentrated in that one finger. Wave after wave of it crashed through him like a tide, making his scalp tingle and leaving him with just one thought—
Why do humans even have fingers…
The experience filled him with a deep, bone-deep hatred. But he didn't dare show any of it. His whole body moved with Wang Baole's pull, terrified that the slightest jerk might make Baole snap his finger clean off.
Inside, he was cursing to high heaven. On the surface, he gritted his teeth until they almost shattered and hurriedly begged for mercy.
"Let go, let go— it hurts, it hurts… I—I admit defeat!!"
"Admitting defeat means you're a good boy," Wang Baole said, satisfied. He wasn't the type to press his advantage too far—at least, he didn't think so. Heart thoroughly soothed, he loosened his grip. Under the big man's resentful glare, he walked off the ring.
Inside, he felt lighter than air. It was as if all the torment he'd suffered under the main sparring dummy had finally found an outlet. The sense of release made him feel the Fight Club was truly… a wonderful, beautiful place.
"Losing to my ultimate move isn't your fault," he sighed to himself, full of lofty melancholy. "If you have to blame someone, blame me—for being too strong."
The fat fellow had clearly forgotten the screams he'd let out himself when he was the one having his fingers twisted. Right now, steeped in the joy of payback, he had conveniently erased the tragic part of his "training" from his memory.
If looks could kill, Wang Baole would have been pierced by a thousand arrows on the spot. Only then, maybe, could the big man have truly vented his hatred for that finger-lock.
No sooner had Baole stepped out of the ring than the surrounding onlookers let out an even louder wave of boos and jeers. He, of course, automatically tuned it all out.
Feeling fired up, he eagerly went looking for his next arena. Before long, he found one he liked, watched for a bit, and then strode forward.
His opponent this time was an arrogant-looking youth. When he noticed Wang Baole stepping up to challenge him, his expression turned cold.
"Report your name!" the young man snapped.
Wang Baole blinked. He'd just seen this youth fight earlier and knew the guy was fast, nimble, and slippery. If the kid decided to run, chasing him down would be tiring. Best to trick him into coming to him instead.
So at the young man's demand, Baole's eyes flickered. He plastered a simple, honest smile on his face, cupped his fists, and bowed.
"My name is—"
He didn't even get to finish.
The young man's eyes flashed, the corner of his mouth tugging into a scornful smirk as he suddenly sprang forward. With a sharp swish, he closed the distance in an instant, fist already arcing down toward Wang Baole.
Trying to trick me?
Wang Baole's eyes lit up. Instead of dodging, he took a heavy step forward, his whole body surging like a moving mountain as he charged straight into the youth's attack.
He roared as he lunged.
"Come on then! Fight me head on if you've got the guts!"
The youth sneered. His steps seemed disordered, yet they carried a subtle rhythm. In a few ghostly movements, he slipped past Wang Baole's bulk and appeared behind him.
"So fat, and you still came to give me free Spirit Stones. I almost feel bad," he drawled, mocking. As he spoke, his right fist shot toward Baole's back.
Before the punch could land, a sudden suction burst from inside Wang Baole's body. The pull dragged at the youth's arm and center of gravity, stalling him mid-motion. His eyes went wide in shock.
In that split-second of hesitation, Wang Baole spun around. His right hand surged with an even stronger suction as he grabbed out. He caught the youth's finger cleanly, the corners of his lips lifting in a smug grin as he jerked the hand upward.
At the same time, he bellowed:
"Kneel!"
A scream tore from the young man's throat. His legs turned to water, and the unrivaled agony galloped up his arm in time with that shout. It felt as if his whole body was being commanded by the pain. Before he could think, his knees hit the ground with a hard thud.
"Let go! It hurts—it hurts so much!!"
"I hate cheats the most," Wang Baole growled, eyes bulging. "Hurry up and admit defeat. Call me daddy!"
The young man was on the verge of losing his mind. He opened his mouth to curse, to spit back all the resentment piled up inside him—but Wang Baole twisted a fraction harder.
His next words broke into a higher, broken scream.
"Daddy! Daddy, I was wrong! I admit defeat!!"
Wang Baole felt his whole being relax. He let out a hearty laugh, released the youth's hand, and strolled off the stage, already scanning for his next training partner.
Behind him, the youth clutched his finger, glaring daggers into Baole's back, teeth grinding audibly. But there was nothing he could do. The sense of humiliation and unwillingness boiling in his chest only grew stronger.
This match, too, had drawn plenty of eyes. And as more people watched not just this, but several of Wang Baole's consecutive fights, some of those "repeat viewers" began to look… odd.
"Did this fatty come here specifically to bend people's fingers?"
"This is too vicious. He goes straight for the fingers every time…"
Under this growing bubble of attention, Wang Baole moved on to his third match, his fourth, his fifth…
The more he fought, the more excited he became. His moves grew smoother; his timing more precise. At first, he needed a bit of time to find an opening and catch someone's hand. But soon, no matter who he faced, as long as they made a move on him… in the blink of an eye, he'd catch their fingers.
And in the spaces between those clean catches was a chorus of agonized howls echoing through the club.
"Ahhh—let go!!"
"It hurts, it hurts so much!!"
"Rabbit, you shameless bastard! If you've got any guts, stop going for my fingers!!"
"Please, let go—I was wrong, Daddy, I was wrong, I surrender…"
The once "normal" Freefight Club had, thanks to Wang Baole's arrival, become… something else entirely.
As the screams piled up, more and more people started paying attention to him. Outcries and exclamations spread through the crowds, pulling even more spectators over.
"This is too shameless. Way too shameless!"
"That fat rabbit doesn't look weak at all. Why is he so obsessed with finger-locks? And what's with making people call him daddy?!"
"Damn it, he doesn't even spare women's fingers…"
As complaints and curses rang out on all sides, Wang Baole strutted down from yet another arena, hands clasped behind his back. Under the burning glares of the crowd, he showed not the slightest guilt. He just puffed out his chest and started looking for his next "partner."
But by now, he'd caused quite a stir. Many arenas, upon seeing him approach, immediately shut their doors. Fighters inside went pale and closed their matches on the spot.
This annoyed Wang Baole deeply.
Luckily, his mood didn't stay sour for long. Before he could get too frustrated, his Fight Club identity token chimed softly—someone had sent a challenge.
He perked right up and hurried back to his arena.
When he arrived, several hundred people were already gathered around. Many were very familiar faces: the youth from before, the big man from his first fight, and others he'd already "trained."
All of them glared murderously at him the moment he appeared.
"Oh, it's you guys," Wang Baole called, completely unbothered. "Don't rush, don't rush, I'll take you one at a time. I really understand how you're feeling."
Laughing, he waved and stepped back onto the ring. The instant he returned to his arena proper, the youth who'd once been forced to call him "daddy" had already launched himself forward.
"Rabbit! I challenge you!"
This time, the young man's eyes were bloodshot with indignation. He exploded with speed, shooting straight toward Wang Baole. In his mind, last time hadn't counted—he'd been caught off guard. This time, he was determined not to let those fingers be seized again.
A few breaths later, his screams rang out over the arena.
"Daddy, I was wrong, I surrender!!"
Wang Baole, still twisting the youth's fingers, looked genuinely moved.
He felt this young man was very bright. Knowing when to yield meant he could live longer. With a satisfied nod and an approving look, Baole released him.
The youth had barely stepped off the stage when he suddenly clenched his jaw, spun back, and charged in again, eyes blazing red.
"Again!" he shouted.
His pride simply couldn't accept this. The pain was excruciating, yes, but he was a Battle Department student of Ethereal Dao College—surely he could take his revenge.
This time, he changed his approach, avoiding any hand techniques. He attacked solely with kicks.
But he had still underestimated Wang Baole.
It wasn't long before his arm was pulled off-line, his hand caught, and his fingers… found.
Another piercing scream followed.
"Daddy, I was wrong…"
Even Wang Baole was stunned by this point. This guy was way too much like his own past self. Again and again, after admitting defeat and walking off, he stumbled back in, eyes red, breathing like a wild beast ready to bite.
The crowd around them grew thicker and thicker, until well over a thousand people ringed the arena. Almost every one of Wang Baole's previous victims stood within it, teeth clenched, hatred boiling in their eyes.
"Shameless. Absolutely shameless!!"
"This fat rabbit only knows how to bend fingers! Someone get up there and beat the hell out of him—I'll pay one Spirit Stone!"
"In fact, anyone who can peel off his mask and show his face, I'll add another Spirit Stone on top!"
The more they cursed, the more attention they drew. The noise was deafening.
The youth, too, did his part to fan the flames—his repeated cries of "Daddy" only added more fuel to the fire.
By the end, all ten of his fingers were purple and swollen. Only then was he finally carried off the stage like a dead fish.
Soon after, others stepped up—men, women, young, old… they took turns as his "training partners."
Eventually, when a petite girl wearing a cute cat mask also had her fingers bent and ran off crying, the crowd completely exploded.
"I can't stand this anymore! He even went after my adorable Cat Goddess's fingers! That beast!"
"Which expert is going to go up there and smash this fat rabbit? I'll throw in a Stone too! And if you rip off his mask, I'll double it!"
Looking at the sea of furious faces outside his arena, Wang Baole's heart suddenly skipped several beats.
He hurriedly shut down the ring, coughed lightly, and straightened up. If he fled in panic, it would look a bit embarrassing. So he slapped his belly and spoke loudly, voice full of lofty boredom.
"That's enough for today. I won't fight anymore. The opponents are too weak. Boring."
Under the renewed howls of rage from the crowd, he calmly called out, "Return."
The platform sank, taking him back down into his private chamber, cutting off the roar outside.
"This club is an amazing place."
Back in the small room, Wang Baole let out a sigh of relief. His excitement surged back almost instantly. Grinning, he tucked his rabbit mask into his arms, broke into a half-trot down the corridor, and soon stepped out onto the first floor again.
The moment he emerged, he heard angry shouts echoing from the hall.
"Where's that rabbit? Come out if you've got the guts!"
"Damn fat rabbit! Show yourself if you're a man—we'll settle it right here!"