Future Masters in Modern Times

Chapter 8: An Underground Boxer in the United States

Prison Square was a sea of dark figures; all the inmates from Block B had gathered there. Among them were notorious murderers, bank robbers who had carried out疯狂 robberies, and train hijackers. No matter how ferocious or terrifying they had once been, they now stood there respectfully, their faces filled with fear, their gazes fixed on the not-particularly-tall figure ahead. This was their new boss—Zhao Wuji, a yellow-skinned Asian man. Zhao Wuji had been standing before them for a full half hour. During that time, he had not uttered a single word, merely gazing at them coldly, while an invisible pressure weighed silently upon their hearts. Finally, Zhao Wuji spoke. His gaze swept over everyone as he said in a detached tone, “First of all, I believe you’re all smart people. The prison administration supported my appointment as your leader precisely to put an end to your long-standing infighting. Of course, as your leader, I certainly won’t micromanage every little thing. As long as matters stay within certain limits, I won’t intervene—after all, friction between you is inevitable.” At this point, Zhao Wuji deliberately paused to observe their expressions. “But if you cross that line, don’t blame me for taking action—the prison has granted me that authority.” As silence fell over the room, Zhao Wuji raised his voice. “Do you understand?” “Got it, Boss.” Though their voices were out of sync, one by one they pounded their chests to assure Zhao Wuji. Zhao Wuji nodded. “It’s good that you understand. And now that I’m your boss, I also have a duty to help you solve some of your problems.” Having made demands of these criminals—who were usually so arrogant—Zhao Wuji naturally had to offer them some benefits in return. This principle, though simple, was incredibly practical. Sure enough, a look of delight involuntarily flashed across the prisoners’ faces; with someone looking out for them, life in this prison would be much easier. And so, Zhao Wuji concluded his first address, announcing that the inmates were free to leave on their own. Before long, the prison was completely empty. Kerry had been standing to the side the whole time, listening to Zhao Wuji address the inmates. Gradually, he got a strange feeling: Zhao Wuji standing there looked just like a military drill instructor. Having once served in the United States military himself, Kerry remembered his drill instructor—who was known as the “cream of the crop”—whose presence he would never forget. Zhao Wuji’s current demeanor bore a striking resemblance to that very presence. “Zhao, it’s hard to believe—they were as docile as lambs just a moment ago,” Kerry remarked with a touch of wonder. As he said this, a look of obvious awkwardness crossed his face. As prison officials, they couldn’t openly use overly violent methods; instead, they had to rely on Zhao Wuji and his so-called “leaders” to indirectly control the inmates and maintain basic order in the prison. It was, undeniably, a bit of an irony. Zhao Wuji sensed his awkwardness and gave a faint, cold laugh. “At least you’ve got someone like me under control. With that, those prisoners are naturally no problem, aren’t they?” Kerry shrugged his shoulders, then looked at the tall and straight-backed Zhao Wuji and asked in puzzlement, “Zhao, did you serve in the military before?” Zhao Wuji shook his head. “The prison should be well aware of that—you should have access to all my records.” “You’re right,” Kerry nodded, choosing not to dwell on the matter. Just then, a transport van pulled up at the prison entrance—it turned out that new prisoners were being brought in. The door opened, and a burly man with a crew cut stepped out; his features were distinctly Asian. His name was Cheng Jue, from China. He had arrived in the United States a year ago and joined the American underground boxing circuit. His record in the ring was nothing short of spectacular: out of a total of one hundred underground fights, he had won every single one, killing his opponents on the spot ninety times. During a police crackdown on the underground boxing ring, he killed more than a dozen officers on the spot. Only when faced with a barrage of police gunfire was he finally forced to retreat. After his arrest, he was transferred to Lobestan Prison. Armed U. S. escort personnel stepped forward, leading the shackled Cheng Jue to begin the handover procedures with prison authorities. Moments later, the handover was complete, and Cheng Jue was officially transferred to Lobestan Prison. Two prison guards, one on each side, gripped Cheng Jue’s arms as they passed through the prison’s multiple security checkpoints. All along the way, Cheng Jue surveyed this mysterious prison, silently marveling to himself that Lobestan Prison truly lived up to its reputation. With such tight security, he thought, not even a fly could escape! As for himself, he felt no regrets; the money he’d earned from underground boxing was more than enough to ensure his family would live comfortably for the rest of their lives. Besides, given his abilities, he was confident he could manage just fine in this prison. Amid the clanging of shackles, Cheng Jue finally reached the deepest recesses of the prison. Then came a series of procedures; once they were all completed, his shackles were removed, and two prison guards escorted him to his cell. “Let’s go!” Although Cheng Jue looked exceptionally fierce, in the eyes of these guards, that meant nothing, so they spoke to him rather rudely and shoved him from behind—but Cheng Jue didn’t budge an inch. The two guards exchanged a glance, drew their batons, and struck him hard across the back. Cheng Jue felt his blood boil; the rage within him was nearly impossible to contain. His long career in underground boxing had made him hot-tempered and bloodthirsty, and the veins on his forehead were clearly bulging. “Hold it in!” Cheng Jue forced himself to suppress his emotions. Before the batons could strike again, he took a heavy, deliberate step forward. “Who do you think you are? Just because you’ve killed a few people, you think you’re something special!” The two guards’ eyes were filled with contempt, and they sneered incessantly. They had seen countless serious criminals who, upon arrival, had acted as if they were invincible, only to be beaten half to death shortly afterward—their suffering as miserable as it could possibly be. The guards didn’t bother wasting time on these inmates—other prisoners would naturally take care of teaching them a lesson. That’s why the first few days in prison were the hardest for new arrivals—some even committed suicide because of it. But once they got through that initial period, life became much easier. Seeing Cheng Jue step forward on his own, the two guards lowered their batons; for them, it was essential to quell a new inmate’s arrogance. And so, with Cheng Jue leading the way and the two guards following behind, they walked in silence as they escorted him to Zone B Prison. Yard time had already ended, and aside from the guards patrolling outside the cells, there was no one else around. Passing through the labyrinthine prison complex and walking past cell after cell, they finally arrived at Cheng Jue’s cell—a two-person cell. With a “click,” the heavy cell door swung open, and one of the guards pushed Cheng Jue inside. “This is your cell from now on. Be smart—maybe Zhao will go easy on you because you’re Asian,” the guard remarked offhandedly as he left. They’d given all sorts of advice to new inmates more than once, but few ever listened. After the guard left, Cheng Jue looked around at his surroundings. There was another white man in the cell who had been watching him since he walked in. When he noticed the thick calluses on Cheng Jue’s hands and the well-defined muscles visible beneath his prison uniform, he felt a sense of apprehension and decided not to try to show off in front of this newcomer. After a while, the white man sat up on his bed and took the initiative to say hello. “Hey, Asian guy, I’m Danny. Robbery. Been locked up here for two years.” Cheng Jue glanced at the inmate named Danny and said coldly, “Cheng Jue. Murder.” ”Danny looked as if he’d expected as much and was relieved he hadn’t provoked him. Although he wasn’t weak himself, facing a fierce man who was likely stronger than him, he wisely chose to keep the peace. Danny was indeed a smart guy; people like him usually do pretty well in prison. Although Cheng Jue was reserved and not very talkative, he found himself talking at length with Danny under the latter’s relentless verbal barrage. Upon learning that Cheng Jue had once killed more than a dozen police officers with his bare hands, Danny felt even greater fear toward him and was relieved that he’d made such a wise decision earlier. “Cheng, you’re truly terrifying. Are all of you Easterners that formidable? Zhao was like that, and so are you.” Danny expressed his uncontrollable astonishment and awe toward Eastern civilization. This was the second time Cheng Jue had heard someone mention Zhao, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit puzzled. “Zhao? Who is he?” Danny suddenly sat up straight, fear flickering in his eyes, yet his tone was not without admiration. “Zhao is the current boss of our Zone B.” Seeing Danny like this, Cheng Jue’s curiosity grew even stronger. Zhao? Just what kind of person was he? “Cheng, while I admit you’re impressive, you’re still a long way from Zhao Wuji’s level. Please forgive me for saying this, but have you ever seen anyone who could…” With a look of awe, Danny told Cheng Jue everything he knew about Zhao Wuji. Cheng Jue, however, was now plunged into a state of profound shock… To smash a person’s head into their chest with his bare hands—and not just one, but four! To effortlessly kill a coach from the Siberian Training Camp on the spot! My God! Having spent years on the United States underground boxing circuit, Cheng Jue understood the implications better than anyone else. Could such power really come from a human being? With such terrifying strength, no wonder he’d become the boss of Zone B. If this Zhao were to fight in the underground circuit, he’d undoubtedly be the international underground boxing champion. How could an Asian possess such power? Cheng Jue had never realized his curiosity could run this deep.