Future Masters in Modern Times

Chapter 9: He Is Zhao

Outside the cell, the inmates were all muscular and stood nearly two meters tall. With their heads shaved bald, they looked even more menacing. It was time for yard time again; the cell door had been unlocked. Danny stepped out of the cell first to get some exercise and, before long, joined a group of inmates. A moment later, the iron door swung open with a “click,” and Cheng Jue stepped out of the cell, catching the attention of several inmates nearby. Was this a new face? As was customary, newcomers were in for a rough time right off the bat, and these menacing inmates gradually closed in on Cheng Jue. “Danny, is this the new guy from your cell?” a burly white man with a diagonal scar across his face asked Danny, glancing at Cheng Jue, who was surrounded by the other inmates. Danny nodded, a hint of apprehension flashing in his eyes. “Just watch—they’re in for a rough time this time.” ” Danny’s tone was full of contempt for these inmates. In his eyes, these inmates who mindlessly rushed in with the intent to bully others were bound to suffer sooner or later—just like this time. “Oh?” The inmate standing next to Danny looked puzzled. He widened his eyes and stared intently at Cheng Jue, as if trying to spot something unusual about him. Danny patted him on the shoulder and whispered something; the inmate’s eyes widened in surprise. Cheng Jue wanted to go to Prison Square outside the prison; he’d heard there were exercise machines there. Out of long-standing habit, Cheng Jue felt uncomfortable all over if he didn’t work out for a single day. He’d barely taken a few steps when he sensed someone approaching him, seemingly with ill intent. With a cold laugh, Cheng Jue kept walking. He certainly didn’t want to stir up trouble, but when trouble came knocking, the best approach was to fight back—and without holding back. A burly arm, covered in black tattoos, blocked his path. Cheng Jue looked up to see a muscular Westerner with a full beard glaring at him. The earring in his ear jiggled defiantly, and the skull tattoo on his chest looked menacing as he moved. “Kid, looks like you’re new around here?” the Westerner asked coldly, lowering his arm. “So what if I am?” Faced with these obvious troublemakers, Cheng Jue wasn’t about to hold back; he’d already planned to settle this with his fists. At least three inmates surrounded him, all glaring at him menacingly, while those further away looked on as if they were watching a show. In the minds of these guys, whose heads were filled with nothing but violence, they’d love for a spectacle like this to play out every day. In the monotonous world of prison, violence was the only spice in their lives, so naturally, they weren’t going to let this one slip by. “Know the rules? We’ve been here longer than you. For a newcomer like you, we’ve got a hearty meal lined up.” He and the other three inmates cracked their knuckles, their joints popping loudly. “Here’s your feast!” The Westerner led off with a punch, driving it straight into Cheng Jue’s abdomen. With that kind of force, an average person would likely suffer a stomach hemorrhage—it was clear this Westerner had no intention of holding back, striking with such brutal force. Cheng Jue had long been prepared. He spread his large hand wide and, just as the fist was about to strike his abdomen, clamped down on it firmly. The Westerner’s expression tightened, and his face turned grim. Feeling the grip of that palm, he was horrified to realize that Cheng Jue’s strength far exceeded his own. Seizing the opportunity, Cheng Jue applied a joint lock, leaning his body slightly to the lower left, and twisted the man’s fist in an arc. The prisoner’s face contorted, and his body trembled uncontrollably from the pain. In the blink of an eye, the man was pinned to the ground by Cheng Jue. Seeing him taken down, the expressions of the surrounding prisoners changed; they realized this man was not to be trifled with. But since they had already provoked him, they couldn’t back down now—otherwise, they would surely be the laughingstock of everyone. With that in mind, the three of them closed in, cutting off Cheng Jue’s retreat. Then, simultaneously, they kicked out, aiming for the vital parts of Cheng Jue’s body. The attack was fierce, and it looked as though they were about to strike Cheng Jue. The inmates watching the spectacle from the sidelines seemed to have guessed the outcome, but while they were right about the beginning, they were wrong about the end. A chilling, menacing aura filled the air. Cheng Jue, about to be struck, had a face as cold as ice—he was clearly furious. With a “thud,” Cheng Jue leaped high into the air and delivered a spinning kick that struck one of the attacking inmates squarely in the head, instantly knocking him to the ground, unconscious. This scene caused all the inmates present to turn their heads in astonishment—the martial arts skills of this man from the East were astonishingly masterful. Seeing that the trio’s attack had been reduced to just two men after Cheng Jue had taken out one—and that these two were, to put it mildly, no longer a threat—Cheng Jue raised his arm to block the attack, then closed in and violently rammed into them with his side, knocking both men to the ground. Though the fight seemed to last a while, it all happened in the blink of an eye. The four men who had seemed so fierce just moments ago now lay motionless on the ground—Cheng Jue was the sole victor. “An underground fighter!” someone exclaimed in shock and disbelief. The expressions of the onlookers all changed—they were well aware of the terror associated with underground fighters, and a master of the underground ring was, above all, a killer. Faced with such a formidable opponent, no one wanted to cross him. Cheng Jue watched the scene before him with a cold gaze. In truth, he hadn’t gone all out during the fight; the men lying on the ground were, at most, temporarily unconscious. As a Black Fist fighter, he had excellent control over his strength. “Let’s go, let’s go.” With the brief fight over, the inmates present voluntarily dispersed; no one wanted to stir up trouble again. “Cheng!” A somewhat eager voice rang out. Danny and a few inmates nearby moved closer, apparently hoping to get on his good side. “Cheng, you’re a real fighter. Those guys used to be Mafia enforcers—a lot of people here have been beaten up by them. You’ve really avenged them this time.” Danny said to Cheng Jue with a broad smile, then pointed to the men beside him and introduced them: “This is Jack, this is Cass, and this big guy is Tyson. Well! Not that boxing champion.” Danny joked as he introduced the two white men and a black man who was a full head taller than them. After the introductions, all three nodded at Cheng Jue in a gesture of goodwill. The Black man among them said, “Cheng, you’re really strong—we’re all impressed. I wonder if you’d be interested in joining us.” In prison, inmates often form cliques; their goal is to stick together to avoid being bullied, since a lone wolf doesn’t last long behind bars. However, these were still individual actions that hadn’t escalated to the point of disrupting the prison’s balance, so the prison authorities turned a blind eye to such situations and never intervened. Seeing the hopeful look in Danny’s eyes, Cheng Jue Lue gave it a moment’s thought and agreed. He wasn’t stupid; in the dangerous environment of prison, if he wanted to survive, he couldn’t rely solely on himself—unless, of course, he possessed absolute power, just like Zhao, who had risen to prominence so forcefully. And this small group was a good option right now, so Cheng Jue agreed to join them. With the powerful Cheng Jue joining their ranks, Danny and the others were in high spirits. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, no one would be foolish enough to dare pick a fight with them from now on. “Cheng, where are you headed now?” Tyson asked, somewhat puzzled. Cheng Jue stretched his limbs, glanced at Tyson’s somewhat overly muscular build, and tilted his head toward Prison Square. “I’m heading to Prison Square to work out. It’s my routine—I can’t skip a single day.” Hearing Cheng Jue’s matter-of-fact tone, Danny and the others finally understood the source of his strength, and they were all secretly amazed. After parting ways with Danny and the others, Cheng Jue descended the makeshift staircase on the second floor of the cell block. The staircase was made entirely of steel, and with each step, Cheng Jue’s feet produced a series of dull thuds. Several prison guards stood at the bottom of the stairs, coldly surveying the surrounding inmates. When they saw Cheng Jue coming down, they merely glanced at him before turning their attention elsewhere. Cheng Jue walked down the stairs and crossed the prison hall, which was brightly lit by incandescent lights on the ceiling. He then entered a dim, deep corridor; sunlight filtered in from the end of the corridor, and beyond it lay the outdoors. The prison building was surrounded by barbed wire, with separate paths—one for inmates and one for guards—divided by the fence. After exiting the building, Cheng Jue headed toward the path designated for inmates. The path was narrow, only a few meters wide. From ahead came a constant stream of curses caused by the crowding. Cheng Jue walked on by himself, making no effort to get into another altercation. The path was 50 meters long; after walking it, Cheng Jue arrived at Prison Square. Along the edge of the square stood dilapidated benches with peeling paint, where inmates sat laughing boisterously. Scattered throughout the square were facilities such as a basketball court and a fitness area. However, most of the time, these areas were monopolized by certain inmates. Countless inmates were scattered in small groups across the grounds, enjoying their once-daily outdoor recreation. Cheng Jue got straight to the point and headed for the fitness area. It was crowded with inmates, and there were often large groups gathered around each piece of equipment. Cheng Jue walked around for a moment before stopping at the barbell rack. At that very moment, a white man—not particularly muscular—was struggling to lift the barbell, drenched in sweat. “James, you can’t do it—get off already!” ” The inmates around him burst into laughter. The inmate named James turned pale with anger and angrily dropped the barbell. Cheng Jue stepped onto the weight platform, catching their attention. “Hey, kid, you want to lift that barbell too?” Their eyes were full of contempt; they clearly didn’t believe Cheng Jue could lift it. Cheng Jue ignored their mockery, took a step forward, gripped the barbell with both hands, lowered his center of gravity slightly, and then lifted it effortlessly. The inmates who had been mocking him just moments ago immediately fell silent, feeling a bit foolish. They muttered something under their breath, shot Cheng Jue a wary glance, and slunk away. Cheng Jue watched them walk away, gave a dismissive smile, and spat forcefully on the ground. Just then, a man walked onto the square—it was Zhao Wuji. Wherever he went, he was greeted with respectful salutations. Zhao Wuji nodded and continued walking, then his gaze settled on someone in the workout area. The man’s skin tone, identical to his own, made Zhao Wuji feel a deep sense of familiarity. The man was currently performing clean and jerks with the barbell, one after another, his entire body drenched in sweat. “Quite interesting,” Zhao Wuji thought with a smile. Piqued by his curiosity, he set off toward the man and soon stood before him, watching as he lifted the barbell again and again. Cheng Jue felt the heat radiating from his entire body, which was quite invigorating. It had been a long time since he’d worked out this hard; his body had almost gotten out of shape. Suddenly, he noticed someone standing in front of him. The man had an Asian face, wasn’t particularly tall, had ordinary features, and looked quite unremarkable overall. Cheng Jue looked at him and felt a sense of familiarity deep within. “Hello,” Cheng Jue said in Chinese, his voice slightly hoarse as he fixed his gaze on Zhao Wuji. He longed to hear those incredibly familiar sounds—his mother tongue—come from Zhao Wuji’s mouth. Zhao Wuji saw that Cheng Jue had been lifting the barbell but had suddenly stopped, and then—to his surprise—had actually said “Hello” to him, and in Chinese at that. He couldn’t help but chuckle a little. Seeing the hope in Cheng Jue’s eyes, Zhao Wuji didn’t disappoint him; he responded in his native language as well. Cheng Jue felt a strange mix of emotions. He never would have imagined he’d run into a fellow countryman here. Seeing Zhao Wuji standing there, he assumed the other man also wanted to try lifting the barbell, so he stepped aside. “You give it a try,” Cheng Jue said, wanting to let Zhao Wuji take over for the rest of the session. Zhao Wuji found it a bit amusing—asking him to lift the barbell? “Never mind, you go ahead,” Zhao Wuji shook his head, not intending to step up. Cheng Jue instinctively assumed Zhao Wuji lacked confidence; after all, judging by his build, he didn’t look like a powerlifter. “It’s okay, come on up and give it a try!” Cheng Jue didn’t even realize when he’d become so enthusiastic—could it be because he’d run into a fellow countryman in this prison? “All right!” Zhao Wuji really didn’t want to discourage Cheng Jue, but since he couldn’t refuse, he had no choice but to step up. He walked over to the barbell, bent down, and reached out to grip the cold bar. Zhao Wuji glanced at Cheng Jue and thought to himself, “I hope this doesn’t scare him.” ” Cheng Jue, who was waiting for Zhao Wuji to lift the barbell, suddenly felt his pupils contract as a storm of emotions churned within him. “This… this is…” Zhao Wuji didn’t grip the barbell with both hands; instead, he lifted it effortlessly with just one hand. He even twirled it a few times as if it were a wooden stick. “Hmm, still too light,” Zhao Wuji thought to himself. Ignoring Cheng Jue, who was utterly stunned, Zhao Wuji did something that nearly caused Cheng Jue to stumble. He actually loaded all the weight plates on the floor onto the barbell, then grabbed it, bounced it once in his hand, and—still using only his right hand—hoisted the barbell, continuing to juggle it as if it were weightless. All the inmates present were stunned, including Cheng Jue; it was hard to fathom the scene before them that defied all science. It wasn’t until much later that the inmates erupted into a burst of enthusiastic cheers: “Boss, you’re the strongest man in the world…” “……” Zhao Wuji set down the barbell, walked over to Cheng Jue, and asked, “What’s your name?” Cheng Jue replied blankly, “Cheng… Cheng Jue.” Zhao Wuji nodded and left the gym, leaving Cheng Jue muttering to himself, “He… is our boss… Zhao?”