Chapter Twenty-One: Taking Off One's Pants First Is a Bit Strange

Yang Meng pointed at his own nose. “You two have been arguing here for ages—have you even asked the person involved for his opinion? I haven’t said a word, but you just keep going, don’t you? Aren’t I your target? Then, obviously, it’s my decision that counts! Let me ask first: Have either of you prepared compensation money?”

“Compensation?” Zhao Hai was taken aback, but quickly came to his senses. “Oh, I get it. You mean the money you extorted from Hammer under the pretense of ‘unpaid wages for migrant workers’? You expect me to prepare compensation for you? Keep dreaming!”

Long Teng, who had been silent, gave a cold smile. “I believe Secretary Duan has already informed you: I’ve prepared your medical expenses.”

Yang Meng laughed at this and pointed at Long Teng. “I like dealing with people who come prepared. As for paupers like these, I’d be embarrassed to even fight them. Come on, you’re the one I’ll pick!”

“Who are you calling a pauper?” one of Zhao Hai’s lackeys cursed.

Yang Meng glanced at the lackey. “It’s always the little eunuch who gets anxious before the head eunuch does. Do you think I don’t want an appearance fee? Look at Young Master Long here—he does things properly. Compared to him, what are you if not paupers? Come, Young Master Long, set the terms. Are you all coming at me together?”

“You’re too arrogant!” Long Teng sneered with his usual pride. “Don’t lump me in with these small fry. I’m a legitimate third dan in traditional karate. Today, I’ll settle this with you on the ring!”

Yang Meng looked as if he’d suddenly understood—so Long Teng did have reason for his arrogance!

Karate, the national art of the Eastern Isles, has many schools, each with different rules for dan rankings and belt colors. But traditional karate uses the universally recognized dan system, with ten ranks in total—from first to tenth. Third dan might not sound high, but only karate masters who have made significant contributions to the art can attain fourth dan and above, and there are age restrictions. That’s why most world champions are second or third dan.

Only now did Yang Meng notice the many trophies in a prominent spot nearby—many of them won by Long Teng himself. He was even a national champion?

No wonder he was so confident.

“Wait!” As Yang Meng was about to follow Long Teng, Zhao Hai, who had been standing aside, grew anxious and quickly tried to intervene.

Long Teng stopped at Zhao Hai’s words, snorted coldly, and glared at him. “Zhao Hai, watch your tone when you talk to me! I’m giving you face here. I don’t want to provoke you—not because I can’t! Go ask your brother Zhai Dacheng—would he dare speak to me like that? Would he dare bring so many people to my turf looking for trouble? Do you really think you street toughs are so impressive? I could make it so there’s no place in the world for you. Believe it or not?”

Only then did Zhao Hai realize he was not facing some nobody, but the eldest son of the Long Group—a famed figure in all of Handong City.

This guy was a true scion of the Long Group, but he had no interest in the family business. From a young age, he loved martial arts and fitness. But unlike the typical rich wastrel who only spends his family’s money, he had turned his hobby into a business. The Long Rhythm Gym might just be a fitness club, but it was a veritable golden goose.

If Handong City had a “do not provoke” list, Long Teng would definitely be on it. He was in that rare position: wealthier than anyone stronger than him, and stronger than anyone wealthier.

Realizing he’d spoken amiss, Zhao Hai hurriedly said, “Young Master Long, don’t get me wrong. Since there’s a ring here, I just meant that I’d like to settle things with him in the ring according to the rules. We didn’t come here to make trouble—my brothers are just here to support me.”

“You? On the ring?” Long Teng looked Zhao Hai up and down with undisguised disdain.

Zhao Hai pointed at Yang Meng. “Young Master Long, I may not have had systematic training like you, but to be honest, I’ve been through plenty of fights. Dealing with a kid like this is no problem. How about this: we don’t want trouble with you, but we do have a score to settle with him. Let me test his mettle in the ring first.”

Long Teng frowned, about to refuse, when Duan Bowen stepped forward. “Young Master, I think Mr. Zhao’s proposal has merit. But I wonder if Mr. Yang agrees?”

Long Teng looked at Duan Bowen with suspicion. He couldn’t understand why Duan Bowen would suggest this—after all, they’d grown up together, and this wasn’t his usual style. Yet, knowing Duan Bowen, he was never one to speak without purpose. So he chose silence and looked to Yang Meng for his answer.

Long Teng had only seen videos of Yang Meng in action, not the real thing. Duan Bowen, however, had witnessed it up close—twice. The shock of it was something no video could convey. Long Teng was acknowledged as formidable, but for some reason, Duan Bowen felt he wouldn’t be a match for Yang Meng. For Long Teng’s safety, he hoped to see the fight himself first.

With everyone looking at him, Yang Meng grinned. “I don’t care who I fight as long as the compensation is ready. Even if you all come at me together, I have no objection—so long as you can pay. But it seems you’re broke, aren’t you?”

“You…” Zhao Hai wanted to curse, but one glance at Long Teng beside him made him swallow his words. He took a deep breath, pulled out his car keys, and said, “A 2017 BMW X5! If you win, it’s yours.”

He waited, expecting to see Yang Meng’s face light up with surprise, but Yang Meng just looked at him with disdain.

“What? Not satisfied?” Zhao Hai stared at him.

Yang Meng nodded without hesitation. “Of course not. I want cash, not a car.”

Zhao Hai laughed bitterly. “You really think this car is already yours? What do you even want it for? You could get half a million for it at a used car market, no problem!”

“Half a million?” Yang Meng was taken aback.

“Pauper—never seen that much money before, have you?” Zhao Hai hadn’t forgotten Yang Meng calling him a pauper earlier.

But Yang Meng only shook his head. “Having to sell it for cash is too much trouble. You’d better step aside. Young Master Long, how much did you prepare? Surely it can’t be less than this street punk?”

“Who are you calling a street punk?” Zhao Hai was losing it.

Yang Meng slapped his own forehead. “Sorry, my mistake. You’re not a street punk—you’re a big-time thug.”

Zhao Hai ground his teeth and spat out, “You’re dead, boy! I’m going to kill you!”

“Pauper, come back when you have the money. Young Master Long, when do we start? My time is valuable, you know!” Yang Meng completely ignored Zhao Hai’s threats. After today’s attempt to buy a motorcycle, he knew he was short on cash and needed to earn more—otherwise, he’d be paralyzed by indecision the next time he went shopping.

Long Teng was about to speak when Duan Bowen stopped him again. “Mr. Yang, how about this? If you beat this gentleman, I’ll help you sell the car and guarantee you get the cash.”

Long Teng frowned. “Bowen, what are you up to?”

Duan Bowen shot Long Teng a look and then smiled at Yang Meng. “Mr. Yang, this is a fine car. I know you like motorcycles, but in terms of safety and comfort, this is much better. You could drive it yourself.”

Yang Meng pulled a cigarette from his pocket. “Haven’t you heard the saying? Four wheels carry the body, but two wheels carry the soul.”

Duan Bowen, unruffled, flattered him, “Mr. Yang, you truly have depth.”

Yang Meng couldn’t keep up the act anymore. “Depth, my foot. I don’t even know how to drive!”

Duan Bowen almost burst out laughing, but finally said, “In that case, let’s do it this way. Mr. Zhao is determined to stand up for his friend, and you want this matter settled—otherwise, you wouldn’t have agreed to meet here. If you beat him, I’ll give you half a million and keep the car myself. Is that arrangement acceptable?”

“That works!” Yang Meng agreed without hesitation, though he still had some concerns. “But, Secretary Duan, what if he tries to renege?”

Duan Bowen’s expression shifted, showing a side he never revealed when dealing with Yang Meng. “Believe me, Mr. Yang, he won’t dare.”

Yang Meng gave him a thumbs-up. “Impressive.”

“You flatter me, Mr. Yang. The locker room is over there—shall I show you where to change?” Duan Bowen offered.

Yang Meng shook his head. “I said I’m short on time. Let’s make the money and get out. Where’s the ring?”

Duan Bowen quickly arranged for a girl to escort Yang Meng and the others to the ring.

Long Teng and Duan Bowen walked together at the end, finally able to exchange a few words. “Bowen, what are you doing? I’ve seen the video you sent me. Sure, I’ve never seen that kind of fighting style before, but it’s nothing exaggerated. I’ll admit he’s skilled, but I’m confident I can beat him!”

Duan Bowen glanced at Yang Meng’s back ahead of them. “Long Teng, we grew up together—would I set you up? I just have a feeling this Yang Meng isn’t as simple as he looks. You represent the Long family; you can’t afford to lose, no matter what. Let Zhao Hai test the waters for you first.”

But Long Teng didn’t appreciate Duan Bowen’s concern. He muttered, “You worry too much. Why take this guy so seriously? If he can’t even beat Zhao Hai, wouldn’t that be a joke?”

Long Teng wasn’t just guessing. Yang Meng and Zhao Hai were already in the ring. Zhao Hai had stripped off his shirt, showing off his impressive physique.

But it clearly had no effect on Yang Meng. “Strange. Why do people always take their shirts off before a fight? Oh, right—if they took off their pants first, that would be really weird.”