Chapter 69: Life in the Martial World

"Don't you go thinking you're the only hardcore badass in this world! As if you're the only one who knows how to handle a blade and risk your life!" Hua roared, reaching out to snatch the knife from my hand.

Different people in the underworld operate by different rules; some are after money, while others are after saving face.

Guo Changxing was after money. Knowing that I had Uncle Yong, a major underworld boss, backing me, he was willing to make peace and build a connection. A guy like Hua, however, belonged to the latter category. Money meant little to him, but saving face was paramount. In the underworld, countless crime bosses have died at the hands of obscure, reckless punks. A figure of Uncle Yong's stature wouldn't fear Guo Changxing, but he would certainly steer well clear of loose cannons like Hua. If a guy like that truly snapped and killed someone without regard for the consequences, it might just be his ticket to notoriety and fame.

Knowing that this guy Hua had been holding a grudge against me all this time, I decided to take care of his issue while I was here today. Leaving it unresolved would mean keeping a thorn in my side that could prick me at any moment.

Just as Hua's fingers brushed against the knife handle, Wu Dahai made his move. Taking a swift step forward, he reached out and clamped his hand directly around Hua's throat. This sudden display of martial prowess left all the thugs in the room dumbfounded. Who could have imagined that the previously dull-looking middle-aged man possessed such deadly skills? Hua, completely unaware of the mortal danger of a throat lock, raised his arm to swat Dahai's hand away, only to have Dahai seize his wrist and snap it downward with brutal force. In an instant, the joints in Hua's left hand were dislocated, contorting his face in a grimace of agonizing pain.

He tried to struggle further, but Dahai increased the pressure of his right hand, cutting off Hua's breath until he could no longer make a sound. "Move again," Dahai said coldly, "and I'll crush your neck."

Ignoring Dahai, Hua glared directly at me, letting out a hoarse, rattling growl.

I tapped Dahai on the shoulder and said, "Brother Dahai, let him go. Let him speak."

The moment Dahai released him, Hua flew into a rage. "I thought you actually had the guts to let me take a stab at you! Bringing in some martial arts expert doesn't prove a damn thing—you're all talk! I don't believe this guy can follow you twenty-four hours a day. Just you wait until I get my chance!"

I pointed at the knife still resting in his hand. "Go ahead. Cut me. Brother Dahai, stand down. Like I said, I'm letting him take his shot."

Hua raised the blade and slashed directly toward my face.

I kept my eyes wide open, staring right at him.

Just as the blade was about to connect with my head, he violently changed the trajectory, aiming the edge squarely at my shoulder instead.

I immediately shot out a hand, grabbed his wrist with a tight grip, and shoved his arm forcefully upward. Seizing the momentum, I drove my knee straight into his groin. He let out a sharp cry of agony and doubled over. Moving swiftly, I wrenched the knife from his grip, grabbed his right hand, and slammed it flat onto the tea table. Raising the blade, I brought it down swiftly—a finger severed cleanly, flying off as a spray of blood splattered across the table. Hua's shrieks reached a piercing pitch.

"You're a fucking liar!" he screamed in fury.

Among Guo Changxing's men standing around us, reactions split into two extremes: some surged forward, eager to step in and avenge their cohort, while others turned pale with fright.

"If you had actually had the guts to slash at my head, I might have respected you as a real man," I said, raising the knife and tracing the blade over his remaining four fingers. "You swerved the blade toward my shoulder at the last second—do you call that fighting for your life?"

"I was wrong! I was wrong!" Hua broke down, sobbing hysterically.

"What did you say?" I crouched down to his eye level.

"Brother, I was wrong, I really am sorry, I yield! I was just running my mouth, I just couldn't swallow my pride, but I don't dare kill anyone! I really don't! I don't care about saving face anymore, I'll leave, I'll get out of here, just stop cutting!" he blubbered, tears and snot streaming down his face.

I lowered the knife and turned to Guo Changxing. "Brother Xing, have someone take him to the hospital. Tell them it was a factory accident; they might be able to reattach the finger."

Guo Changxing nodded, gave a few low instructions to a couple of his subordinates, wrapped up the severed digit, and had them carry Hua away. Once they were gone, Guo looked around the chaotic, wrecked room and smiled bitterly. "Brother, this is twice now. The first time was easy enough to smooth over, but after this little stunt, you've practically smashed my rice bowl. You cut off my subordinate's finger right in front of my eyes while I stood by and did nothing. How am I supposed to command respect and lead men after this?"

"If I hadn't done this, he would have brought you a massive disaster sooner or later," I replied.

Guo sighed. "Forget it. People in our line of work rely on our brothers to build a reputation just to earn a living, yet in the end, countless so-called bosses are dragged down to their graves by this very fame and loyalty. They just don't understand that fighting and building a reputation aren't meant for causing trouble and throwing your weight around—they're meant for earning an honest, secure living. Once you've secured that livelihood, unless someone comes to smash your rice bowl, there's no reason to make mortal enemies. It's such a simple truth, and yet they just don't get it. Between this arcade and the few dozen slot machines we place around town, they pull in three or four thousand yuan a month. Is that really so little?"

"So in the end, you have to learn to stay out of it," I said with a smile.

Guo pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to me and another to Wu Dahai. "Stay out of it? Absolute nonsense. When I used to read martial arts novels about how once you step into the pugilist world you're no longer your own master, I didn't think much of it. Only when you actually enter this world do you realize how true it is. You probably have no idea what Hua was up to. After the incident last time, not only was he telling the other guys that I was spineless and had no future following me, but he even went behind my back to badmouth me to Brother Tianci. He told him I was getting too old and losing my edge, and that if this business operation were handed over to him, he'd know how to collect on outstanding debts. He was constantly running his mouth about wiping out whole families. Brother Tianci praised him to his face for having guts, and then turned around and called me, telling me to deal with him. I was actually planning to give him one last chance... Oh, whatever, forget it. Hopefully, this serves as a lesson to him."

"Are these machines really that profitable?" I asked.

As soon as those words left my mouth, Guo Changxing's expression—which had remained quite polite up to that moment—changed instantly. Even the way he held his cigarette shifted slightly. He narrowed his eyes and asked, "Brother, they're profitable alright, but are you thinking of stepping into this game yourself?"

"If I really wanted to step in, would that mean we'd have to go to war?" I smiled.

"No single person can earn all the money in the world," Guo said. "There are four arcades like this in just this village alone, and thirty to fifty across the entire township. Even if I wanted to fight everyone off, I couldn't. I'm just warning you as a brother: when it comes to these street fights and minor scuffs, I can give you face. But when it really touches on everyone's livelihood, you better consider whether your friendship with Uncle Yong is deep enough, and how much effort he's willing to put into backing you. If you don't have the strength and yet you want to eat from this bowl, before I even make a move on you, others will swallow you whole."

"Cutting off someone's livelihood is like killing their parents; I understand that principle. Don't worry, since you've given me face, Brother, I'm not so clueless as to come and steal your business. I was just curious—card games at least involve playing against other people. But with these gambling machines, a person is playing against a machine. Can a human ever beat a machine? Are there really enough fools willing to throw their lives away?" I asked.

Touching upon a professional topic, Guo smiled. "These machines can all be adjusted, and everyone knows it. But everyone also knows that the machines operate on set payout odds. After swallowing a certain amount of points, they have to spit a portion back out. Everyone who comes to play hopes they'll be that lucky person. The parlors are also full of vultures who hang around all day without placing bets, just watching every machine and every seat. When they see a machine swallow a mountain of points without anyone playing it anymore, they jump right in to gamble for a chance at the payout."

Wu Dahai offered an awkward laugh. "I used to be one of those guys."

Hearing this, Guo chuckled as well. "He might win nine times out of ten, but that one time he doesn't, he'll end up spitting back out everything he won in the previous nine rounds. Walk away when you're ahead? When it comes to gamblers, how many of them can actually stop before every last coin is gone?!"